A Testimony of Redemption
From Orphan to Overcomer
A journey through loss, trauma, and abandonment—into purpose, hope, and redemptive love.
A journey through loss, trauma, and abandonment—into purpose, hope, and redemptive love.
At nine years old, her world collapsed. Both parents gone. Just like that.
Death doesn't care about age. It doesn't wait until you're ready. One moment, she was a child with a family. The next, she was an orphan—a word that felt too heavy for such small shoulders to carry.
Her aunt took her in. It should have been a refuge, a safe harbor in the storm of grief. Instead, it became another nightmare. The abuse was relentless—physical, emotional, psychological. Day after day, the trauma deepened. The scars multiplied.
"I learned that family doesn't always mean safety. Sometimes, the greatest pain comes from those who should protect you most."
For four years, she endured what no child should ever endure. Four years of wondering if anyone cared. Four years of losing herself piece by piece.
At thirteen, she made a desperate choice: escape. She ran. With nothing but the clothes on her back and wounds too deep to see, she fled into the uncertainty of Kampala's streets.
She thought the church would be different. A sanctuary. Safety. God's house.
Running from her aunt's home, traumatized and desperate, she found herself at a church. Surely here, among believers, she would find refuge. Surely those who spoke of God's love would show it.
But evil doesn't always announce itself. Sometimes it wears the cloak of religion. Sometimes it hides behind prayers and pews.
What happened in that church became another layer of trauma—violation in a place meant for healing. Rape. Abuse. Darkness masquerading as light.
"When those who represent God betray you, where do you turn? I ran again—not from God, but from what was done in His name."
At thirteen, already broken from years of abuse, she fled once more. This time, there was no destination. No plan. Just survival instinct pushing her toward the only place left: the streets.
Kampala's streets became her home. Concrete her bed. Hunger her constant companion. She joined countless other forgotten children, navigating violence, exploitation, and a daily fight just to see another sunrise.
In those streets, she learned that hell isn't always a future place—sometimes it's where you wake up every morning. But even there, in the darkest valley, God was watching.
In the depths of despair, God sent an angel in human form.
A woman saw what others looked past. While the world stepped over homeless children, she stopped. She didn't see problems—she saw souls. She didn't see street kids—she saw God's children.
This Good Samaritan gathered five children from Kampala's unforgiving streets and took them to Namasuba. Among them was a traumatized thirteen-year-old girl who had given up on kindness, given up on safety, given up on hope.
"She wasn't wealthy. She didn't have much. But she had something the world couldn't offer—genuine love and the willingness to sacrifice for children who weren't her own."
This woman became more than a rescuer. She became a mother figure. She scraped together what little she had to keep these children fed, clothed, and in school. Through Senior 4 (S4), she invested in their futures when no one else would.
She worked tirelessly, sacrificing her own comfort so that five forgotten children could have a chance at life. She showed them that family isn't always blood—sometimes it's choice. Sometimes it's covenant.
Then, while our founder was still in S4, the unthinkable happened: her rescuer, her protector, her earthly guardian—died.
Once again, the foundation shook. Once again, loss threatened to consume everything. But this time was different. This time, she had been shown what sacrificial love looked like. This time, a seed had been planted.
At sixteen, she started working at a fuel station. It wasn't glamorous. But it was purposeful.
For seven years, she pumped gas, served customers, and saved every shilling she could. While others her age spent freely, she lived with intentionality. She had a vision—one that wouldn't leave her alone.
The memory of that woman who rescued her from the streets never faded. The sacrificial love she'd experienced became a blueprint for her own calling. If someone had loved her when she was unlovable, she could do the same for others.
"Every day at that fuel station, I wasn't just working for money. I was working toward a promise I made to God—to be for others what that woman was for me."
Seven years is a long time to hold onto a dream when life offers countless reasons to give up. But she held on. She worked. She saved. She prayed. She prepared.
God was teaching her patience, perseverance, and provision. He was refining her character in the furnace of daily obedience. He was getting her ready for what was coming next.
Then, one day, the Holy Spirit gave her a clear directive: It's time. Leave this job. I have something else for you.
She obeyed. She left the security of steady income and stepped into the uncertainty of radical faith.
She started preaching on the roadside. No building. No budget. Just the Gospel and a burning heart.
Her pulpit was the streets. Her congregation was whoever would listen. And God began to move.
One day, walking past Bwaise, Kamalimali and Kimumbasa—the very streets where she once lived as a homeless child—she saw them. Children. Hungry. Scared. Forgotten. Looking exactly like she once looked.
She couldn't walk past. She couldn't ignore them. The Holy Spirit whispered: This is why I saved you. This is why I prepared you.
"When I saw those children, I saw myself. When I fed them, I was feeding the little girl I used to be. When I gave them hope, I was giving them what Jesus gave me."
With the money she had saved from seven years at the fuel station, she rented a small house. She took in three street children. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
The money ran out quickly. The savings she worked so hard to build depleted fast. Down to two children when finances tightened, she faced a choice: give up or trust God for provision.
She went back to the streets. Not to live there this time—but to rescue others from them. She found four more children: one in Primary 1 (P1), three in Primary 2 (P2). She enrolled them in the most affordable schools she could find, believing God would make a way.
Today, Good Care Ministries houses six precious children. They're in school. They're fed. They're loved. But the need is overwhelming, and the resources are limited.
She still rents. The ministry operates in constant financial distress. But the vision burns brighter than ever:
This isn't just a dream—it's a calling. It's a promise from God. It's a continuation of the redemption story that began when one woman was rescued from the streets and decided to spend her life rescuing others.
This testimony isn't finished. Right now, in Kampala, there are six children experiencing hope because one woman chose to obey God. But there are hundreds more still on the streets, still waiting for someone to see them, to love them, to show them Jesus.
Every donation builds the permanent home. Every prayer sustains the ministry. Every act of partnership writes another chapter of redemption.
Will you be part of this story?
Centenary Bank
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