Most of the children we serve together carry heavy burdens of trauma, loss, and grief. Some have lived through violence or abuse. Others were abandoned or left unwanted. Many fled from war or barely survived disasters.
And then there are children who were once deeply loved and cared for - until tragedy stole their parents away.
That was Kisakye Milly’s heartbreaking story.
Life Before Her Buloba Kinship Family
Even before Milly was born, her mother fought fiercely to protect her. While just a few months pregnant, she fled the violence and tribal wars in the Democratic Republic of Congo, walking across borders alone, searching for safety for herself and her unborn child.
She eventually reached Buwanda, Uganda, where she worked as a casual laborer - pulling weeds, harvesting crops, doing whatever small jobs she could - just to survive and prepare for her baby’s arrival.
“She gave me the name ‘Kisakye,’ which means ‘Grace’ in Luganda. She told neighbors I was her blessing. I was all she had. And she was everything to me,” Milly shared.
But when Milly was only five years old, her world shattered.
Her beloved mother passed away.
A Young Girl’s Stages of Grief
In Milly’s words:
“For a long time, I carried not just grief but confusion, fear, and a quiet anger that she was gone, and I was left behind.
At first, my grief was a silence.
I stopped laughing. I pulled away. The world felt hollow. Even the classroom bell sounded far away, like it belonged to a life I couldn’t reach anymore.
But healing didn’t come all at once.
It came in moments.
In Joy, who shared her food with me when words felt too heavy.
In Robert, who passed me the football, letting me join the game again.
In Teacher Namusoke, who didn’t try to explain my pain. She simply sat with me, letting my tears soak her shoulder under the jackfruit tree.
Those moments whispered:
‘You’re not alone, Milly.’
And slowly, I began to believe it.
As I’ve grown, my grief has changed shape. It’s no longer just sadness. It’s memory, strength, and a quiet fire in my chest.
Sometimes I still cry when it rains in Buloba because the earth smells like the day she was buried.
But now I also smile.
Because her strength is alive in me.
I’ve realized that grief doesn’t go away. It grows with you.
It teaches you things joy never could: how to endure, how to feel deeply, how to notice kindness in small things.
Now, at 14 years old, living at Buloba Home and studying in Senior One, I have dreams I couldn’t put into words as a child.
I want to become a nurse, or maybe even a counselor, because I know what it’s like to sit in sorrow and not know what to say - and how powerful it is when someone just stays beside you.
I want to return to Buwanda someday - not just to remember, but to give back. To help other children like me feel seen. Loved. Belonging.
I no longer ask, ‘Why did she leave me?’
Now I ask, ‘How can I live a life that honors the woman who crossed a border for me?’”
Your Compassion Makes All the Difference
The Kinship Kids who are close to your heart have lived through pain and loss that no child should ever have to face. But because of you, their stories don’t end in heartbreak. Your love comforts them when they cry, lifts them when they’re weary, and gives them the courage to dream again. Just like Milly, they are finding hope, family, and the chance to be children again - because you chose to care.
Thank you for giving them a second chance at childhood.
Your compassion changes everything. Will you extend it to another child who needs you?
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