"Countdown to Uganda 2025!"

     We’re thrilled to share that we’ve officially begun preparations for our next trip to Uganda, set for September 13th, 2025! Tickets are booked, hearts are full, and the countdown has begun. Last year’s visit was a blessing. We were reunited with dear friends, made many new connections, and felt deeply welcomed by the community. The children were vibrant, healthy, and full of energy and smiles. Thanks to the generous support of so many, the school has grown tremendously—especially through the nutrition program and the medical clinic. During our last mission, several great achievements were made. The entire school received its first fresh coat of paint, brightening up the space for students and staff. We also had the joy of seeing around 1,000 chicks that where shipped just before we arrived, which now produce hundreds of eggs daily. These eggs support the nutrition program and bring in additional income for the school through local sales.

     Looking ahead to this next mission, we’ll be assessing the school’s progress and identifying future needs. Listening to the stories of families on the ground is always vital to understanding how we can help. A major focus will be continuing to grow the Sponsorship Program. Many children still need sponsors to stay in school—just $50/month for a secondary school student covers room, board, and tuition. Sponsoring a child is truly life-changing—not just for them, but for generations to come. It’s an incredible experience to meet your sponsored child in person and hear directly how this opportunity has transformed their future. Throughout the year, we receive letters full of gratitude and hope from these students who now have the chance to work toward professional careers that will uplift their communities. Thank you for your continued support. Your involvement is making a lasting impact.

If you’ve been thinking about how to get involved or are simply curious, we’d love to hear from you! Please don’t hesitate to reach out—whether you have questions or just want to learn more, we’re happy to connect and share how you can be part of this mission. Be sure to check back for future blog updates. This is my first post, but certainly not the last! I’ll be sharing more soon, including details about our upcoming fundraiser this August at Wilcox Farms. A heartfelt thank you to the Wilcox family for their continued and generous support over the years. And finally, thank you to each of you for taking the time to read this blog today. May God bless you.

-Phillip Brower, Board Member/Website Creator

The Road to Nakaseeta

Starting at the Beginning...

There is a remote village in Uganda called Nakaseeta that has captured my heart. It’s captured my heart to the degree that it’s on my mind all the time, and I’m prompted to start a blog – something I’ve never done before, but I feel led to share about it with family, with friends, to the world – to whoever will listen!

I’ve wondered often what it is about Uganda that has captivated me to the degree it has. Mostly, it’s this feeling that I am right where I need to be. It’s a “my soul is at rest” feeling. I feel more alive there than I ever have. I feel a sense of joy and a peace that is difficult to describe. It’s as if I belong there. This might sound odd, but it seems like even color is different there. Several years ago I was having troubles with headaches, and went to the eye doctor. Turns out I needed glasses. I remember how I felt when I put my glasses on for the first time and walked outside – wow! The world came alive. I couldn’t believe how much I’d been missing. That’s what it feels like when I step off the plane in Uganda – it’s almost like entering another dimension. That beautiful rocky clay road that leads to Nakaseeta Foundation Christian Primary School – it welcomes me home.

One thing I know to be true about myself is that I love to serve. I’ll be the first one to offer you a cup of coffee, or dinner, or to help with whatever needs to be done. I’m happiest when I’m doing something for others – I recognize that quality in myself; it’s how God made me. Even still, when I visited Uganda for the second time in February of this year, I was overwhelmed by the realization that this little school of 210 students is what I was created for. It’s a school that hasn’t received a lot of attention, but whose students with their red and blue uniforms make my heart burst with love. I can’t stop thinking about their smiles, their laughter, and their contagious joy.

 Last October, I felt led to throw a 5K in my town as a fundraiser for Nakaseeta School. The strange thing is that I am not a runner – far from it – in fact, I despise running! I still remember being in middle school PE and having to run the mile. Our PE teacher challenged us to beat our time, and my best friend Becka and I made up a chant that I can hear in my mind to this day: “This time it’s under 9” … yes … 9 minutes. But I digress.  The school had been temporarily shut down and needed to be re-built. The 5K was a tremendous success, and with the help of many family and friends, we raised nearly $5,000. It was amazing. With those funds, and the help of the families associated with the school, 10 permanent brick classrooms were constructed. I was in awe of all the work that had been accomplished – it looked so different than when I had visited back in 2015 for the first time. My dear friend John Joseph who has become like a brother to me is the Director of the school. During my time there,  I spent a great deal of time asking him as many questions as I could ...

How many classes were there? How old were the children? How far did they walk to school? After all, you can only gain so much information via Facebook Messenger when you’re a world away from someone. This time, I had his undivided attention, and I was determined to learn as much as I could.

Somewhere in the midst of those conversations, a hard reality set in. I was asking about the daily routine at the school, writing frantically, trying to absorb as many details as I could, and I remember stopping mid-sentence and looking up at him in tears. He was describing how the bulk of the children who pay a lesser amount for tuition receive a bowl of porridge for lunch, and a smaller amount of the children who board nearby the school and therefore pay a higher amount of tuition, receive a plate of posho and beans for lunch. As an aside, posho isn’t my favorite food in the world, but it’s very filling. It’s made of cornmeal, it’s very thick, and most people from Uganda seem to really enjoy it. So, again, I’m in the middle of this conversation, and the truth began to slowly sink in. These kids are going hungry. I had a hard time getting the words out, but I remember pondering their walk to school (a lot of them walk an hour, sometimes an hour and a half one way). “John Joseph … do they eat breakfast at home?” He tried to answer me kindly. “Perhaps some of them get some breakfast at home sister.” My mind was having a hard time catching up. “So, the bulk of them walk a long distance to school, probably most of them without breakfast, and then what do they eat when they get to school?” He answered me quietly. “There’s no breakfast served at school sister.” Ugh. Nothing. I probably knew that deep down, but I had to ask. Ok, I let that register. Alright. So they don’t have breakfast, and they’re in school all morning trying to learn, and then it’s finally lunchtime. I pictured the kids as John Joseph described, some lining up with their bowls for porridge, and some lining up with their plates for posho and beans. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to be the child with her bowl of porridge. “Brother, I know I live across the world, and maybe it’s different here, but don’t they have a hard time with that?” He just looked at me with that same kindness in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what part of the world you live in sister. If you’re hungry, you’re hungry.” At that moment I felt my heart break into thousands of pieces. The injustice hit me hard. I pictured my cupboards and refrigerator, full to the brim. I pictured (with shame) the food we threw away at night. I pictured my own daughter who’d never experienced hunger, and I could hear her words in the back of my mind – “Mom, we always go out for Mexican – can’t we have pizza tonite?”  I couldn’t stop crying, and it was hard to speak, but I remember looking at him and saying, “This isn’t ok. I know you’ve been doing the best you can with what you have, but this has got to stop. These children are hungry. They need to eat.” We sat quietly, and came to a quiet agreement. Of course they need to eat. Yes, we would do something. We spoke at length that afternoon. He sat across from me, and we calculated the price of porridge, the price of sugar, the price of posho and beans. After a lot of scribbling, thinking, re-calculating, praying, re-calculating some more, thinking some more, a tangible plan emerged. For $500 US dollars/month, we would provide every student and staff with a bowl of porridge containing a bit of sugar every morning. In addition, we would provide every student with a plate of posho and beans every afternoon. No exceptions. We would not raise the tuition. Parents are already doing everything they can. But on this we were both clear – as necessary as permanent brick classrooms are, the children require nutrition, first and foremost. By the way, those of you who know me well realize that I couldn’t stop at posho and beans. I had to ask for variety  - posho and potatoes, rice and beans … some vegetables every day – so yes, we are working out all those details as well. And clean water as well, but that’s a topic for another day.

There’s a ton more to say. My husband is teasing me already that a blog is supposed to be a daily account – not a whole life story all at once – but I needed to get this much out on the table. We’re really at the beginning of a journey here. The other pieces are going to take time. Of course there is a great deal to be done. Many discussions and research are underway. But part of the reason for this blog is to invite you to be on this journey with us. Will you join us?