This Is Why I Stay: A Caregiver’s Testimony of Hope

I still remember the day Samuel and his family came to our Kinship Home in Buloba.

I had just returned from the market, and my arms were full of food for the children.

That’s when I saw Pastor Kashofo standing at the gate. He waved me over. Beside him was a woman with three children. They looked so tired. Their clothes were dusty. Their faces carried the weight of a long, hard journey.

The mother’s eyes… I will never forget her eyes. They were full of pain, the kind of pain only a mother running from war can carry. One of the boys stood quietly, not saying anything.

That boy was Samuel.

They had come from Goma, a place we know well—not from visiting, but from the stories. Gunshots at night. Soldiers blocking the roads. Children who vanish without warning. People walk for days, with only the hope of safety in their hearts. This family was one of them.

Samuel’s feet were cracked and dry. His little sister held a broken plastic doll in her arms. They had nothing. Just each other.

We didn’t ask too many questions. We just welcomed them.

A fresh start for Samuel and his family

Our Buloba Kinship Home isn’t large or modern, but it’s full of love. There are flowers along the fence and trees that sing with birds in the morning. Children wake up to the smell of porridge cooking and the sound of worship songs playing from a small radio. Sometimes we all sing together while doing our chores. It’s peaceful, and for many of these children, it’s the first peace they’ve known.

We gave Samuel’s family a small room. That night, the children slept peacefully. But their mother stayed up, singing a quiet hymn in Luganda. Her voice floated through the halls, gentle and full of emotion. I stood outside her door and listened. It made me cry.

Samuel didn’t speak much at first, but he helped. He carried water, swept the courtyard, and comforted younger children when they cried. He had strong hands and a careful heart.

I looked at him, and I felt something in my chest. Isn’t that what God does with us? He fixes broken things. And now, this young boy was learning to do the same.

But what made Samuel truly special wasn’t just what he did with others. It was what was happening in his heart.

Samuel’s journey to finding Jesus

One quiet evening, I was sweeping the kitchen after dinner when Samuel came to me. He was holding his hands together like he was carrying something precious. He looked up and said softly:

“Auntie Zainab… can I have a Bible?”

I stopped sweeping. “You want a Bible?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I want to understand Jesus. I see something in you. I see peace. I want to feel that too.”

I had no words. My eyes filled with tears.

So many children come to us full of fear and anger. But Samuel wanted truth. He wanted Jesus.

That night, I gave him a Bible - small and old, with worn pages. He sat under the mango tree outside and read until the sun went down. I watched him from the window. It was like seeing a seed planted in good soil.

Soon after, he began waking up early to pray. He wrote verses in a small notebook. He asked deep questions:

• “Why did Jesus forgive people who hurt Him?”
• “Can Jesus forgive even me?”
• “Why did He die for us?”

Then one Sunday after church, he came to me and said something that filled my heart with joy.

“Auntie Zainab, I want to follow Jesus.”

We knelt together on the floor of the dormitory. I held his hands as he prayed. His voice was shaky but strong:

“Jesus, I want to be yours. I want to be your follower. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

I nearly wept as he prayed. In that moment, I didn’t see a little hopeless boy. I saw a child of God. A boy who had found hope and a Savior.

Why do I stay?

People often ask me, “Zainab, how do you keep doing this work?”

I tell them stories like Samuel’s.

This work is not just about food and shelter. It’s about eternity. It’s about salvation. Because of givers like you, children like Samuel get more than a safe place: they get the Gospel.

Samuel once told me, “One day, I want to build homes for children like me.”

I believe he will. God is not done with him. He is just beginning.

Thank you

To those who give, who pray, who support this home: thank you.

You may never meet Samuel in person. But you are part of his story.

You were there the day he read his first Bible verse. You were there when he knelt and gave his life to Jesus. You are part of God’s rescue plan.

And I want you to know hope truly moved in that day Samuel arrived.

And by God's grace, it has never left.

Written with Zainab, a caregiver in Uganda (as told to the KU media team in Uganda).