My name is John. I was born and raised in Kiige, a small, poor village in Uganda—one of 18 children in a family that worked hard for every meal and every opportunity. My father, though he never finished school, was a very smart and humble man. What he lacked in money, he made up for in values. He was a peasant, mostly growing cassava and corn, and sometimes took odd jobs—like digging up the special grass used for thatching roofs—to help support our big family.

Despite our poverty, my father believed deeply in the power of education. He used to tell us over and over again, “School is not for play—mean business! He would point to children in our village (including my deceased uncle’s children) who did not have the chance to go to school—some were orphans, some had no money, some simply did not understand its importance. “I am also poor,” he would say, “but I sacrifice so you can learn.”

Public school here is not free. Even the basic fees and materials can cost over $100 a year per child, which is an enormous amount when many families do not even have clean water or regular meals. Still, my father worked tirelessly to make sure that those of us who wanted to study could. I took his words seriously. I worked hard, studied harder, and eventually became an educator myself.

I first felt called to help other children when I was about 15 years old. One day, during class, a teacher asked a girl why she was not writing. She stayed silent, when the teacher left, I too asked her why and she burst into tears. I asked a friend what was wrong, and he told me her father had just passed away. Maybe they did not have books. Her pain touched something deep inside me. I remembered my father’s words about orphans and children who could not afford school. That moment struck me hard. I remembered my father’s words: some children just cannot go to school—not because they do not want to, but because they cannot. That was the moment my life changed.

From that day, I began helping. Even while I was still a student, I would buy books and pens for children who had none. I helped that girl’s mother. My father eventually noticed and asked me, “How can you help when you do not have money?” But even he eventually started buying books too. His heart couldn’t resist it either.

By the time I was 20, I was working in Kampala, saving what little money I could to bring home supplies for orphans and vulnerable children in my village, Kiige. Here I was often called “Pastor”—not because I had a church, but because of the way I loved and served people. I guess I have the heart of a pastor.

In 2011, another educator where I worked Juluis, who later became a close friend learned of what I was doing and gave me money so I could buy more supplies to take with me. One day, a kind woman, Asha I also worked with at the school encouraged me to take things to the next level. She said I should start something more permanent—and she would show me how. Together with Julius we planted the seed that would become Transform the Needy Child—the first and only orphanage in our area.

It wasn’t easy. It took me a whole year just to save up enough money to buy a phone so I could try to share our story on social media. Asha taught me how to use Facebook, and slowly, people began to notice. Through that, I met Jerry Harmon, a man with a big heart, who introduced me to his mother and to his friend Jim Forbis, which is how I became connected to One Million Wells. These were the first people outside my country who really believed in what I was doing.

Today, we care for 62 children—each with a name, a story, a future. I still work as a teacher a few hours away during the week, and on the weekends, I am home with the children, spending most of my earnings on their needs. We have a few caretakers who help while I am away and some faithful cooks who prepare the food—though we are still cooking without a real kitchen. As you can imagine, feeding 62 growing children is no small task. Our goal is not just to feed and shelter these children—but to restore dignity, education, and hope.

You see, since the 1980s, when HIV/AIDS began to spread widely in Uganda, many families were torn apart. Millions lost their lives. As a result, countless children in our region—especially in Kamuli District—became orphans. Without parents, they were left vulnerable
to deep sadness, rejection, and exploitation.

Some are sent to live with relatives who can barely support their own children. Others are left with elderly grandparents who lack the strength and resources to provide. Too often, girls drop out of school and fall into dangerous situations, including early
marriage or being exploited for survival.

Poverty, HIV/AIDS, and family breakdown have left scars on the community. In 2014, a severe drought and storms hit our region, destroying crops and homes. Many became homeless. People died from disease and hunger. Some children we care for lost both parents
in these disasters. In our area, even a good meal once a day is not guaranteed, and clean water and healthcare remain out of reach for many.

We started this orphanage not just to meet physical needs, but to give these children a future—to break the cycle of despair. Every child deserves love, guidance, and an education. I’ve dedicated my land, my energy, and my life to this cause. And I am not alone.

Julius, my trusted friend I met while working in Kampala, has stood by me for years, helping to lead this effort. I am deeply grateful for him.

My dream is to build a school right here, so more children—especially orphans and vulnerable youth—can receive quality education close to home. Education is the bridge to dignity, peace, and progress.

My dream is to one day build a school right here. That way, even more children in our community—especially those who are too poor or without parents—will have access to the education my father fought so hard to give me. My father passed away in 2023, but I
know he would be proud. His words didn’t just stay with me; they’ve taken root in the lives of dozens of children who now have a safe place to sleep, food to eat, and a chance to learn. Through
Transform the Needy Child, we are not only raising up children—we are raising a generation of hope.

This is our story. It is a story of sacrifice, hope, and the belief that even in the poorest places, love, education, and God can change lives. We appreciate you learning more about us and helping support the children if you are able!

-John Mwase-