Mobile money agent Mirembe Tracy laments that her business in Uganda's bustling capital Kampala was paralysed when the government shut the internet during last week's fiercely contested general election.
All withdrawals were disconnected, she tells the BBC, adding that she gets nearly all of her income from withdrawal commissions.
Without it, her income dropped to zero.
In one week I can earn up to 450,000 [Ugandan] shillings (£96; $130). That money is what I use to pay rent. Losing it was a total loss, she says.
For two days either side of the election, there was nothing she could do but stay at home - she could only sell prepaid airtime credit, which she says does not give a commission.
Uganda's communications authority ordered the nationwide shutdown to ensure peace, protect national stability and prevent the misuse of communication platforms during a sensitive national exercise. The opposition said it was a move to cover up voter fraud and stop its agents from sharing the results from polling stations.
Either way, it brought many aspects of modern life to a halt.
Online businesses that rely on mobile money transactions were most affected by the blackout, with some coming to a standstill while others reverted to cash-based transactions.
Kampala is famous for its ubiquitous boda boda (motorcycle) taxis, with many operators earning their income through online ride-hailing apps.
The co-founder of SafeBoda told local media that the platform's entire server was down during the internet suspension, with many riders forced off the road and other businesses that depend on the service deprived of their income.
Namukwaya Olivia, who sells traditional cultural clothing and depends heavily on Instagram, TikTok and WhatsApp to reach customers, says she did not make any deliveries during the period.
She tells the BBC that many of her customers ask for pictures before deciding on what to buy.
We could not send pictures, we could not receive orders, and we could not make deliveries, the businesswoman says.
She adds that the effect of the shutdown was immediate, and made it difficult to cover basic costs.
We couldn't pay rent during that period, she says. Even now, things have not fully recovered because customers still struggle to access us online.
Journalist Ngabo Amon says his smartphone, a work tool for him, became largely useless. You have a phone, but there is nothing to do with it, he tells the BBC.
Everyday life transformed into anxious stretches of waiting for the internet to be restored.
Some households reverted to watching television for entertainment. People bought what they could afford, went back home and just watched, because there were no other options, Ngabo explains.
Some young people found it difficult to cope. Ronnie Mwesigwa, 20, says he lost contact with friends and had no access to online entertainment.
I couldn't communicate with anyone, and even gaming was gone, he says. It was not a good situation. He turned to content already stored on his phone, only viewing his gallery.
President Yoweri Museveni won the vote by a landslide to extend his 40-year-rule and has accused the opposition of seeking to overturn the results through violence.
Bobi Wine, his closest challenger, maintains the results are fake and has cited ballot stuffing.
According to a report by the African Union (AU) election observation mission, the internet shutdown limited access to information, freedom of association [and] curtailed economic activities. It also notes that the shutdown created suspicion and mistrust in the election process.
Caroline Mutai, a Kenya-based journalist who went to Uganda to cover the elections, describes how the shutdown made it nearly impossible to send back material to her newsroom.
The experience was traumatic, highlighting not only the immediate economic toll on individuals like Mirembe and Namukwaya but also the broader implications for communication and freedom of expression in Uganda.
