My name is Mwesigwa Airete. As a young girl, I loved school. My greatest wish was for my father to support my education so that I could become a nurse or a doctor. He had the means—he was a coffee farmer, and business was lucrative at the time. I remember the trucks loading sacks of coffee, a clear sign that money was there.
But my father was a heavy drinker, and like many parents of that time, he believed that education was only for boys. When I completed Primary 6 and moved on to Primary 7, he made his decision. He pulled me out of school, saying, “Education is for boys, not girls. We are just educating girls for their husbands. It is no longer necessary to educate girls!” I was only 13 years old.
I was devastated and furious, but I had no say in the matter. He ordered me to stay home and tend to the coffee fields instead. For a year, I worked tirelessly, but deep inside, I longed for something more. At 14, overwhelmed with anger and hopelessness, I got married. Every time I tried to sneak off to school, my father would find me and beat me. Eventually, I gave up and resigned myself to marriage.
For five years, I remained childless. Then, by God’s grace, I was blessed with five children. Life was not easy, but I worked hard to provide for my family. In 2003, my husband passed away, leaving me to care for our children alone. I was strong then—I used to dig in the fields to support us. But over time, I developed a painful illness in my legs, which later spread to my back. I could no longer bend or do heavy labor, and each time I tried, the pain became unbearable.
How I Became a Mother to Orphans
One day, I learned about a little girl in Kigarama who had been abandoned. She was only three years old when her young mother left her behind. Her aunt took her in but mistreated her terribly. Instead of nurturing her, she forced the child to work in the fields. If she didn’t find her digging, she would beat her mercilessly. One day, she broke the little girl’s back and legs.
Desperate and in pain, the child ran away and sought refuge at the village chairman’s home. He found her the next morning—alone, bruised, and frightened—after she had spent the night in his latrine.
When I heard about her, I couldn’t turn away. I told the chairman, “Find this girl and bring her to me.” When she arrived, she was limping and dragging her legs, her body covered in bruises. My heart broke for her. I welcomed her into my home, cared for her wounds, and ensured she received medical attention. Slowly, she healed.
Once she recovered, I enrolled her in school. That was the beginning of my journey of caring for orphans.
Later, I learned about Nyaka AIDS Orphans Project and how they support grandmothers raising vulnerable children. That is how I became part of something greater, turning my pain into purpose, and giving hope to those who needed it most.
