On a wind-swept morning in Brandon, the corner where 10th Street meets the riverwalk looks almost irreverently ordinary: a late-morning coffee crowd, a flurry of dog-walkers, delivery bikes threading between parked cars. Look closer and the scene reads like the end of a long, deliberate campaign. The brick building that anchors the block—once a bank, then a shuttered office—now hums with a bakery, a carpentry co‑op, an after-hours study hall and 24 modest rental apartments. Its transformation is the work of Amaya Desjarlais, a Métis entrepreneur whose Prairie Commons has become the most visible example of a new, place-based development strategy in Westman.

Desjarlais did not arrive in Brandon as a conventional developer. She grew up on a mixed farm north of Neepawa and spent a decade in Winnipeg and Montreal working with non-profits and municipal planners. "I wanted to come back with tools that could do more than build assets," she says, folding her hands over a laminated list of tenant names. "I wanted to build relationships—between housing, work, and training—in ways that stay in the ." That intent shows in the buildings program: ground-floor enterprises that feed tenants with jobs and skills, a second-floor maker space with subsidized rent for local artisans, and a partnership office where Brandon University and Assiniboine Community College coordinate short courses.

The specifics matter. Prairie Commons operates on a blended-finance model that draws on community bonds, municipal grants, and patient equity from local investors. Desjarlais declined to specify total capital raised, but she describes a mosaic of small commitments that together bought time and autonomy. "When youre a small town, the money you can marshal is modest," she explains. "So you design for that. You seed a bakery with a microgrant, teach bakery students to manage inventory, and the next year they hire two tenants as apprentices." The result is a tight feedback loop: residents who need stable housing also gain access to steady work and training steps that lead to better-paying positions elsewhere in the region.

Prairie Commonss tangible outcomes are deliberate and local. The site generates roughly 60 jobs across hospitality, trades and administrative roles. Fifteen microbusinesses have taken root in the building since the first coffee shop opened two years ago. The municipal storefront vacancy rate on the block has dropped, and anecdotal foot traffic—measured by local merchants and community volunteers—has noticeably increased. "We measure success by the people who stay and the businesses that hire from the neighbourhood," Desjarlais says, not by glossy lease posters or celebrity ribbon cuttings.

Her approach is as much social architecture as it is construction. One program in particular, called "From Hands to Jobs," pairs carpentry apprentices with older journeypersons who have retired to Brandon. The program is run out of the maker space and has produced custom furniture sold in the buildings storefront; profits cycle back into bursaries for apprentices. "Its a way to anchor skills and memory," says Thomas Greyeyes, a retired carpenter involved in mentoring. "Were not just making furniture—were reconnecting young people to local trades, and to pride in work."

Desjarlaiss work has not been without strain. Early resistance came from skeptical municipal officials concerned about long-term maintenance of heritage façades and the risk of subsidized spaces depressing market rents. Fundraising was a scramble in the first year, and balancing affordability with operational remains a daily negotiation. "You learn to live with tension," she says. "You keep the math honest and the doors open."

Beyond the block, Prairie Commons has become a template for other Westman municipalities grappling with housing shortages and economic leakage. Desjarlais consults with community groups in Dauphin and Virden, and last winter she worked with the city to draft a zoning overlay that makes mixed-use conversions easier to finance. "Its not a blueprint you copy exactly," she notes. "But the ideas—mixed revenue streams, local training, patient capital—translate well in smaller markets."

The human dimension is what gives the project resonance. Neighbours will tell you the buildings bakery has hosted impromptu literacy nights for newcomers; a tenant on the second floor, formerly working in seasonal agricultural labor, now manages supply for a small catering . "I think about my mom a lot," Desjarlais says. "She raised me to be useful in my community. My job is to make sure other people have a chance to be useful too."

As Westman faces demographic shifts, rising housing costs and the need for diversified local economies, initiatives like Prairie Commons suggest pragmatic optimism. They show how modestly scaled investments—paired with attention to skills and relationships—can ripple outward. Desjarlaiss work will not solve every structural challenge, but in a region accustomed to leaving things as they are, her project is a rare exercise in intentional change: incremental, rooted and, above all, human-centered.