The Weight of Tariffs: How Trump’s Policies Are Crushing Lesotho’s Garment Workers
In the shadow of the majestic Maluti Mountains, a quiet crisis unfolds every morning at 7 a.m. in Maseru, the capital of Lesotho. Here, in this small, landlocked kingdom surrounded entirely by South Africa, hundreds of women gather outside clothing factories, their faces etched with hope and desperation. They’re not just waiting for a job—they’re waiting for a lifeline. But since Donald Trump imposed sweeping global tariffs in April 2025, those lifelines have become increasingly scarce. And this is the part most people miss: these tariffs aren’t just numbers on a policy document; they’re the difference between feeding a family and going to bed hungry.
Take Moleboheng Matsepe, for example. Once a full-time seamstress stitching sports leggings for the California-based brand Fabletics, she lost her job in 2023. Initially, she managed to scrape by with three-month contracts, but since September, work has dried up completely. At 48, she’s the sole breadwinner for five family members, now earning a meager 50 maloti (£2.23) a week from occasional laundry jobs. “The pressure is too much,” she admits, her voice trembling. “We can’t even sleep at night.”
Lesotho’s garment industry, once a beacon of hope in a country with a staggering 30% unemployment rate in 2024, has been on a rollercoaster ride. At its peak in 2004, it employed 50,000 people, buoyed by the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA), a 2000 U.S. law that granted tariff-free access to the American market for thousands of African goods. But AGOA, which requires periodic renewal by the U.S. Congress, expired in September 2025 amid a government shutdown, leaving Lesotho’s economy in limbo.
Today, the industry employs around 36,000 workers, predominantly women, in a country of 2.3 million people. A third of these workers sew clothes for U.S. brands like Levi’s and Gap, earning as little as 2,582 maloti (£115) a month. But here’s where it gets controversial: while these wages are low by Western standards, they’re a lifeline in a nation where jobs are scarce. So, when Trump’s tariffs threatened to slash exports, it wasn’t just businesses that suffered—it was families.
Trump’s “reciprocal” tariffs, announced in April 2025, were based on the trade imbalance between the U.S. and its partners. In 2024, Lesotho exported $237 million worth of goods to the U.S. but imported only $2.8 million. Had the original 50% tariff been implemented, Lesotho’s exports would have been decimated. Even the reduced 15% tariff has sent shockwaves through the economy, prompting the central bank to downgrade its growth forecasts for 2025 and 2026 to a mere 1.1% and 0.9%, respectively.
The human cost is even more devastating. A government survey in August revealed that 400 workers had been laid off, and five out of 15 clothing companies exporting to the U.S. were operating at just 5-30% capacity. Three had shut down entirely. At Ever Successful Textiles, once a bustling hub of activity, only 80% of its 470 sewing machines are in use, and the workforce has shrunk from 650 to 550. The company’s order forms tell a stark story: while U.S. orders bring in $5 (£3.71) per piece, South African orders fetch a paltry 5 rand (£0.23).
Lesotho is pivoting to the South African market, but it’s a tough trade-off. As Trade Minister Mokhethi Shelile explains, the country still relies on U.S. dollars to import electricity, buy machinery, and maintain the loti’s peg to the South African rand. “We’re walking a tightrope,” he admits. And this is where it gets even more contentious: while some argue that diversifying markets is the way forward, others believe Lesotho’s survival hinges on retaining its U.S. trade ties.
On December 10, a glimmer of hope emerged when the U.S. House of Representatives’ Ways and Means Committee voted to extend AGOA for three years. Trump’s administration, however, has only backed a one-year renewal. Shelile is cautiously optimistic that the three-year extension will pass Congress by January, but even then, the 15% tariff remains a hurdle. “We need it cut to 10%, like Eswatini, Ethiopia, and Kenya, to stay competitive,” he insists.
Meanwhile, the women of Maseru continue to wait outside factory gates, their hopes hanging by a thread. Mapuseletso Makhake, 48, hasn’t worked since a two-month contract packing Reebok clothing in late 2024. With a 15-year-old daughter, a 19-year-old son, and a sick, elderly father to care for, she’s struggling to afford basics like sanitary towels and school fees. “My heart breaks every time,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “I wish my husband were still here to share this burden.”
The question remains: Is it fair for a small nation like Lesotho to bear the brunt of global trade policies crafted by world powers? And what does this say about the human cost of economic decisions made thousands of miles away? Let’s discuss—because this isn’t just Lesotho’s story. It’s a mirror reflecting the global inequalities we often choose to ignore.
