My adopted mom must be the most impactful mentor and teacher. She's the reason I've made it this far in life and especially in school. I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My birth mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! She bought a farm, started businesses to supply jobs to everyone, she even built a school for over 300 street kids. Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I was reminded to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering, or alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, I was reminded to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They seem to lack a sense of joy in life. Secondly, I learned to truly see people. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, I was reminded to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They seem to lack a sense of joy in life. Secondly, I learned to truly see people. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, I was reminded to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They seem to lack a sense of joy in life. Secondly, I learned to truly see people. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished young black girls like myself who are behind in school, suffering or alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. I'm also writing my story into a book right now that I know will engage all young girls of color to see their challenges as their superpower and rise up and be exactly who they came here to be.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, I was reminded by God and all His love to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But even more importantly now, I'm writing a book and I know God gave me that unique story to share with the world . Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. I can't imagine a better use of my life than speaking to kids around the world, and working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. Every week, I meet with my book editor to shape my story on paper and prepare my story that I know God will use to inspire others.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, I was reminded to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They seem to lack a sense of joy in life. Secondly, I learned to truly see people. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me, so I guess she's also been the most impactful teacher in my life. I live by faith that one day soon, and I have only one year to go, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, I was reminded to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They seem to lack a sense of joy in life. Secondly, I learned to truly see people. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died; I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I then moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, I was reminded to appreciate everything: water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They seem to lack a sense of joy in life. Secondly, I learned to truly see people. Because I was once hurting when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships...that made me a true leader. I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Most importantly, it's Jesus Christ at work in my life. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working in the inner-city teaching impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my BA at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me. And now, I live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than fighting for Equality in Education, working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. Together, our favorite Bible verse is James 1:27: "The religion that God says is pure and right is to look after the widows and orphans in their distress and to keep oneself undefiled by the world". When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. Needless to say, I thought that might make me a little too weird. At first, what shocked me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she is a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. I just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my African childhood, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying Education which is not specifically STEM, but I will still teach all the foundational Math and Science. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. I live by faith that one day, I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even prefer total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships...I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Early Childhood Education. Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal. Thank you for considering my application! Sincerely, Jesca Kisembo Gilbert

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Finally, I desire to use my unique talents and skills to build a more empathetic and understanding global community through Education. Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Education! Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. By the time I was a Sophomore, I was voted Class President. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Education Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college or even dream of being a teacher. See, that American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the best education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's just mom. Glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. I will hope to inspire my students to invite failure and success into their learning; I will seek to laugh in my classroom and give them moments of joy in their learning; and I will find every way possible to give them ownership over their learning! Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. Since I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain.I currently study Elementary Education and have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Education. Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished students who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Education! Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose and the most important social issue I can think of: Equality in Education! Because of my childhood (and my mom), I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I currently study Elementary Education. I have one more year of my undergraduate degree at Westmont College. I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Because of my childhood, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and have one year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. I hope to be the first Ugandan in my village and family to reach this goal.

I’m from the Buganda tribe in Uganda, Africa. My mom, Mary, was 14 years old when I was born on the street in Kampala. We lived under a tree and begged for our food when she suddenly died and I was left totally alone at only three-years-old. I moved in with 65 other street kids in a run-down, two-bedroom house when, one day, this lady from Colorado was filming a documentary and visited us. First, she brought food; we hadn’t eaten in a long time. Then, she learned my story. Then, she just moved in with us . . . for seven years! Even when I was abandoned, starving, and sick, God already planned my new mom right at the lowest point in my life. And I tell you this little glimpse into my past so you know how amazing it is that I’m able to even make it to college. That American lady, my new mom, well, she's a teacher. She spent the next 18 years making sure I had the education I needed to succeed. We called her Mama Shane, but to me, she's mom. When I arrived in America for my freshman year in high school, I “quickly” figured out that no one around me ever lived under a tree or begged for their food. So…needless to say, I thought that might make me seem a little too weird. At first, what was killing me was watching all my peers take huge plates of food for lunch and then throw it all away and run to class – What!?!?! I attended high school during the years of George Floyd and Co-Vid and political riots. It was a confusing time to be black in America— I was learning about the layers of racism. At times, I thought I might even choose total poverty in Africa over racial injustice in the First World. However, this time of my life gave me two very special gifts: First, I was reminded that I Appreciate Everything: Water in the drinking fountains, food in the dining hall, an amazing education that has books and chairs in every classroom. Unfortunately, my friends and peers don't. They lack a sense of joy in life because they seem to never be happy with anything. Secondly, I learned to Truly See People. Because I was once hurting and totally alone when my mom died, I believe it's given me the empathy and unique ability to see hurting people around me. The medicine I have for them is my smile, my jokes, my ability to laugh in almost any situation, which in turn cures any kind of pain. But glancing back, I’m so grateful for my hardships... I rose stronger and more proud of my education. Because of poor nutrition and poverty, I've never been the smartest kid in the room; I had to push myself harder than everyone else no matter my learning difficulties. I’ve now bridged my learning gaps; I’m an even more resilient human being; and every time someone hints that something is ‘not possible’, I seek to prove them wrong. Which brings me full circle to my life's purpose: Because of my childhood and my mom, I can't imagine a better use of my life than working with inner-city, impoverished kids who are behind in school, suffering and alone. I'm currently studying elementary education and I only have one more year of my undergraduate degree remaining at Westmont College. My American mom has always worked three or more jobs in order to educate me; however, we just live by faith that one day, I'll also be a teacher and I'll be the first Ugandan in all my village and family to reach this goal. Thank you for considering my application! Sincerely, Jesca