When my relative living in Uganda described to me the plight of the women and children of northern Uganda, I was struck by memories of the dire realities that I had once left behind--images I had blocked out for years, images that still could invoke nightmares. I shrunk when I recalled the faces that communicated despair, suffering, hopelessness and death. At first, I could not listen to her; it was much too disturbing. For many years, I had lived in fear of returning to that reality. Nevertheless, I was deeply affected by my relative’s descriptions of the conditions in northern Uganda, especially Kaberamaido, which is my native village. These are my people. I could not help but remember.

My family left--fled--Uganda when the war that has now raged for twenty-one years was only two years old. That was nineteen years ago. We fled because of the conflict in northern Uganda, which had made dangerous conditions highly lethal. We, three children--my sister, my brother and me--only had our mother; I had never known my father because he had been in exile since Idi Amin Baba’s rule, and he never could return to Uganda. My mother raised us with the help of her brothers and sisters. At the outbreak of the war, we lost our home. My mother could not prove that she owned the house because the documents were destroyed in a season of looting and chaos. Consequently, our home was taken from us, leaving our family homeless. We had nowhere to go. We lived with different friends in Kampala. I remember moving from house to house, sleeping on the floor on mats. I remember going for days without food. I felt hopeless. As if it were yesterday, I remember feeling trapped, despondent and afraid. I was there and once in the same position that the children in my orphanage are in.

I was fortunate that my mother and younger brother were able to leave Uganda and make their way to London, England, where my sister and I joined them later. My family still lives in London, England, where they are now British citizens. I attended school in London, and I graduated from secondary school with an A-average equivalent high school diploma. Thereafter, I went to college where I earned an Associates Degree in Business and Finance. In London, I met and married an American from Utah. We moved to Utah, and I had a son when I was 20 years old. Unfortunately, my husband and I were from two very different worlds, and we divorced after four years of marriage. I returned to London with my son to complete my education so I could better support my son. I enrolled at London Guildhall University and graduated with a Bachelors of Science degree in Business and Information Technology. My son and I returned to America and settled in Salt Lake City, Utah, where I work as an Implementation PM Analyst for a Benefit Management Company. I am pursuing a master’s degree in Project Management.

Despite my comfort living in America, I have never forgotten the plight of the children of Uganda; the memories are burnt into my mind. Most people around the world do not know the level of poverty and misery that these children experience. The governing body does not acknowledge their existence; hence, they are called “shadow children.” They are considered an embarrassment, a burden that should not be acknowledged; therefore they remain hidden. Many die alone and unnoticed.

Northern Uganda is a place filled with human despair and desperation; people will do anything to survive even it means selling their children into servitude. Some people are so desperate that they will eat deceased rats. Having been a Ugandan and once in their shoes, I identify with these children. If my family had not been able to leave Uganda, my son could have been one of these children, and I could have been one of the hopeless women.

I am extremely blessed, and I am honored to be in a position to make a difference in the lives of these people. Maybe I was rescued from their despair and poverty to return and make a difference in their lives. I can never forget my humble beginning, and to those who are experiencing the same, I want to leave a legacy of compassion and love. For this reason Asayo’s Wish Foundation exists. I have enlisted in the noblest of all battles--the battle for mercy, justice and humanity. To save the world’s children from poverty, homelessness, child labor, slavery, sexual exploitation, AIDS and plagues is my cause. I can no longer ignore the dying children on my doorstep!

Each of us, regardless of age or circumstance, can take action. It is time! I echo Henry Ford’s words: “There is no man living who isn’t capable of doing more than he thinks he can do.”

Asayo’s Wish Foundation was formed to grant a child’s wish--a wish to survive, to have hope, to be loved and valued, to have a place to call home, to have a reason to look forward to tomorrow. These children are suffering because they lack the basic necessities of life--basic human needs like clean water, adequate nourishment, and simple kindness.

Now, even in my darkest days, I realize how marvelously blessed I am to live in America where there is abundant food, medical care, peace and comfort. We Americans are envied by most of the world. It would not hurt even one of us to contribute little toward helping these poor children and their destitute mothers?

--Sarah Asayo