Mwessa’s 52 happy orphans
Apr 18, 2011
WHEN William Mwessa embarked on a journey from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) to Uganda 22 years ago, little did he know his calling was to take care of orphans.
Child rights organisations in partnership with New Vision are honouring and recognising individuals, organisations and businesses working to improve the lives of children in Uganda with Tumaini Awards.
By Nigel Nassar
WHEN William Mwessa embarked on a journey from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) to Uganda 22 years ago, little did he know his calling was to take care of orphans.
Born in the DRC in 1960, Mwessa had studied up to S.6 and thereafter done a preaching course in church. So the journey out of the DRC, for him, was a religious mission.
He left by a river boat, and then took a train at some point. Along the way, he kept stopping by community churches and preaching. Several times, he ran out of money and could not afford transport to the next point, so he hang around the local church, did casual labour here and there until he raised his fare. When he got lucky, some truck driver gave him a ride.
After 40 days on the road, Mwessa found himself in Paidha, North Western Uganda, and surprisingly, landed himself a stint with the World Food Programme (WFP).
In Paidha too, he found love in Cecil Lubanda, whom he married instantly. He settled in Paidha, juggling preaching and his WFP job for about two years.
In 1990, a year after his arrival in Uganda, their first child, Alida Mwessa, was born. But his WFP stint did not last, for he could not speak English well.
He was only fluent in Lingala and French, the reason he always used an interpreter when preaching
With no job, Mwessa, wife and daughter got onto a truck on a bumpy ride to Kampala.
“Kampala scared me, the city was too big and I did not know where to start,†Mwessa recalls.
With the mistrust city dwellers have of strangers, Mwessa found it hard getting any church to believe his story.
It was after weeks of scouring Kampala that the Pentecostal Church of Uganda in Bbunga took him under its wing and put him on a Bible study scholarship, which he pursued while serving the church.
This afforded rent in the slummy Kabalagala for him and his family, as well as tuition on a Theology diploma. Everything seemed fine until his wife started getting ill with diabetic-related complications in 1994.
“Though on medication, she got weaker by the day. My daughter and I prayed daily for her, but it seems her time had come.â€
On February 23, 1999, she passed on into the night. It was a silent death at Nsambya Hospital after she had had her dinner and perused through Alida’s homework.
“Coping with her passing was hard. We lived in a single room but after she departed it felt so big. The void was huge. I looked at my little girl and did not know how to raise her.But we kept going,†he says.
Four months later, Mwessa’s neighbour died, leaving behind a widow and four children aged between six and eight. The widow, Rose Mukamurigirwa, sought the help of her church which managed to pay her rent for four months upfront. When the rent was due, the landlord evicted her and her children.
“They gathered there and cried, for they had nowhere to go. I did not have an instant solution, but I asked them to join me and my daughter in the single room,†he says.
This was the beginning of what would eventually see the kind Mwessa gather orphaned children to a tune unimagined, with him playing their father, and the widow, their mother (he and the widow are not in a relationship).
Mwessa’s idea of sustaining the then grown family lay in one thing: selling robotic men on wire bikes, the little robotic men children push around.
Mwessa got sh1,000, went to Katwe in downtown Kampala, and bought a kilo of wires from which he and the other six family members would forge the bikes.
He passed by the then Owino market and picked up little pieces of disposed clothes from tailors. These would work as attires for the robotic bicycle men.
Back home, Mwessa gathered his family and took them through the handiwork of the wire bike.
For days, they were holed up in their room-cum-workshop making wire bikes, which Mwessa then took to sell on the street at sh300 to sh500.
From a bundle of wires worth sh1,000, the Mwessas made about 20 bikes, earning them at least sh8,000 on a good sale. In the evening, Mwessa came back home with food for the children and more raw materials. The capital kept growing as did the number of orphans, who increased manpower on the wire bikes.
“Somehow, orphans just showed up and I couldn’t help but take them under our wing. After all they would help increase the number of bikes per day, which made us afford another room,†he recalls.
Then their landlord died, leaving behind 15 children. The deceased and Mwessa were close, so Mwessa honoured the friendship by taking on five of his children.
Altogether, they operated the wire bike business. During holidays, they sold throughout the week till Saturday and then went to church on Sunday, where they sang for the congregation and got money in appreciation.
Supplemented by bike sales, the Mwessas stayed in school (universal primary education).
Then one day in early 2002, as Mwessa sat at the National Theatre waiting for bike buyers, a children’s conference was going on inside the auditorium. With no buyers at hand, he decided to enter and listen, just for the sake of it.
There, he heard about children’s rights and how it is not safe for anyone to keep children without legal documentation.
A pamphlet about children’s issues inspired him that by the time he closed the last page six months later, and with his English, he could now write his own articles of association, come up with an NGO name and become the legal guardian of all the orphans.
In 2002, Orphan Children’s Aid Project (OCAP), a non governmental organisation offering welfare and community services, was incorporated.
Now with 52 orphans; six girls and 46 boys aged between six and 21 years, OCAP is tucked away in slummy Kabalagala, Muzungu Zone. The zone has nothing Muzungu about it, except the blatant reminders of poverty.
Even though OCAP has been sustained by donations through some good samaritans and the Winners’ Chapel International, Rubaga, where Mwessa preaches, it is still very needy.
The 52 orphans share 10 congested rentals which are rented at sh70,000 each. And the sales of the wire bikes are not helping. Much as 200 wire bikes originate here daily, the sales are poor.
“Each bike now goes for between sh1,500 and sh2,500 and only about 80 are sold a day. That money is so little for food, school fees and clothing for 52 children,†Mwessa says.
Over the last 10 years of OCAP’s existence, the Mwessas have pushed through thick and thin.
To stay inspired, they have sung, danced and held drama shows in church.
Sometimes they have completely lacked basic necessities like food, but are still grateful to God for the gift of life, and, for the free primary education.
“Because those in primary school do not pay fees, I am able to save and pay fees for those in secondary school.â€
Though orphaned, these children still exude hope.
Some of them have good class scores, especially the few who have sponsors and do not miss classes.
“Our long-term plan is to acquire land, build a home for the children as well as a school just like the Watoto ministeries. That’s why we are praying for a miracle in form of sponsors for anything – money, food, clothing,†Mwessa hopes.
His biggest fear is the event of any of the girls getting pregnant owing to the proximity in which the grown-up boys and girls live.
“Some of my boys and girls are in A’ Level, that’s scary if they are living too close to each other. We need a home.â€
This 51-year-old’s inspiration in doing all this stems from his having absentee parents.
At the age of 14, Mwessa woke up one morning and his dad had left. He has never seen him since.
“Shortly after father left, mother went to Rwanda and I had to fend for myself. I missed them, that’s why my heart bleeds for these orphans,†he says.
By Nigel Nassar
WHEN William Mwessa embarked on a journey from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) to Uganda 22 years ago, little did he know his calling was to take care of orphans.
Born in the DRC in 1960, Mwessa had studied up to S.6 and thereafter done a preaching course in church. So the journey out of the DRC, for him, was a religious mission.
He left by a river boat, and then took a train at some point. Along the way, he kept stopping by community churches and preaching. Several times, he ran out of money and could not afford transport to the next point, so he hang around the local church, did casual labour here and there until he raised his fare. When he got lucky, some truck driver gave him a ride.
After 40 days on the road, Mwessa found himself in Paidha, North Western Uganda, and surprisingly, landed himself a stint with the World Food Programme (WFP).
In Paidha too, he found love in Cecil Lubanda, whom he married instantly. He settled in Paidha, juggling preaching and his WFP job for about two years.
In 1990, a year after his arrival in Uganda, their first child, Alida Mwessa, was born. But his WFP stint did not last, for he could not speak English well.
He was only fluent in Lingala and French, the reason he always used an interpreter when preaching
With no job, Mwessa, wife and daughter got onto a truck on a bumpy ride to Kampala.
“Kampala scared me, the city was too big and I did not know where to start,†Mwessa recalls.
With the mistrust city dwellers have of strangers, Mwessa found it hard getting any church to believe his story.
It was after weeks of scouring Kampala that the Pentecostal Church of Uganda in Bbunga took him under its wing and put him on a Bible study scholarship, which he pursued while serving the church.
This afforded rent in the slummy Kabalagala for him and his family, as well as tuition on a Theology diploma. Everything seemed fine until his wife started getting ill with diabetic-related complications in 1994.
“Though on medication, she got weaker by the day. My daughter and I prayed daily for her, but it seems her time had come.â€
On February 23, 1999, she passed on into the night. It was a silent death at Nsambya Hospital after she had had her dinner and perused through Alida’s homework.
“Coping with her passing was hard. We lived in a single room but after she departed it felt so big. The void was huge. I looked at my little girl and did not know how to raise her.But we kept going,†he says.
Four months later, Mwessa’s neighbour died, leaving behind a widow and four children aged between six and eight. The widow, Rose Mukamurigirwa, sought the help of her church which managed to pay her rent for four months upfront. When the rent was due, the landlord evicted her and her children.
“They gathered there and cried, for they had nowhere to go. I did not have an instant solution, but I asked them to join me and my daughter in the single room,†he says.
This was the beginning of what would eventually see the kind Mwessa gather orphaned children to a tune unimagined, with him playing their father, and the widow, their mother (he and the widow are not in a relationship).
Mwessa’s idea of sustaining the then grown family lay in one thing: selling robotic men on wire bikes, the little robotic men children push around.
Mwessa got sh1,000, went to Katwe in downtown Kampala, and bought a kilo of wires from which he and the other six family members would forge the bikes.
He passed by the then Owino market and picked up little pieces of disposed clothes from tailors. These would work as attires for the robotic bicycle men.
Back home, Mwessa gathered his family and took them through the handiwork of the wire bike.
For days, they were holed up in their room-cum-workshop making wire bikes, which Mwessa then took to sell on the street at sh300 to sh500.
From a bundle of wires worth sh1,000, the Mwessas made about 20 bikes, earning them at least sh8,000 on a good sale. In the evening, Mwessa came back home with food for the children and more raw materials. The capital kept growing as did the number of orphans, who increased manpower on the wire bikes.
“Somehow, orphans just showed up and I couldn’t help but take them under our wing. After all they would help increase the number of bikes per day, which made us afford another room,†he recalls.
Then their landlord died, leaving behind 15 children. The deceased and Mwessa were close, so Mwessa honoured the friendship by taking on five of his children.
Altogether, they operated the wire bike business. During holidays, they sold throughout the week till Saturday and then went to church on Sunday, where they sang for the congregation and got money in appreciation.
Supplemented by bike sales, the Mwessas stayed in school (universal primary education).
Then one day in early 2002, as Mwessa sat at the National Theatre waiting for bike buyers, a children’s conference was going on inside the auditorium. With no buyers at hand, he decided to enter and listen, just for the sake of it.
There, he heard about children’s rights and how it is not safe for anyone to keep children without legal documentation.
A pamphlet about children’s issues inspired him that by the time he closed the last page six months later, and with his English, he could now write his own articles of association, come up with an NGO name and become the legal guardian of all the orphans.
In 2002, Orphan Children’s Aid Project (OCAP), a non governmental organisation offering welfare and community services, was incorporated.
Now with 52 orphans; six girls and 46 boys aged between six and 21 years, OCAP is tucked away in slummy Kabalagala, Muzungu Zone. The zone has nothing Muzungu about it, except the blatant reminders of poverty.
Even though OCAP has been sustained by donations through some good samaritans and the Winners’ Chapel International, Rubaga, where Mwessa preaches, it is still very needy.
The 52 orphans share 10 congested rentals which are rented at sh70,000 each. And the sales of the wire bikes are not helping. Much as 200 wire bikes originate here daily, the sales are poor.
“Each bike now goes for between sh1,500 and sh2,500 and only about 80 are sold a day. That money is so little for food, school fees and clothing for 52 children,†Mwessa says.
Over the last 10 years of OCAP’s existence, the Mwessas have pushed through thick and thin.
To stay inspired, they have sung, danced and held drama shows in church.
Sometimes they have completely lacked basic necessities like food, but are still grateful to God for the gift of life, and, for the free primary education.
“Because those in primary school do not pay fees, I am able to save and pay fees for those in secondary school.â€
Though orphaned, these children still exude hope.
Some of them have good class scores, especially the few who have sponsors and do not miss classes.
“Our long-term plan is to acquire land, build a home for the children as well as a school just like the Watoto ministeries. That’s why we are praying for a miracle in form of sponsors for anything – money, food, clothing,†Mwessa hopes.
His biggest fear is the event of any of the girls getting pregnant owing to the proximity in which the grown-up boys and girls live.
“Some of my boys and girls are in A’ Level, that’s scary if they are living too close to each other. We need a home.â€
This 51-year-old’s inspiration in doing all this stems from his having absentee parents.
At the age of 14, Mwessa woke up one morning and his dad had left. He has never seen him since.
“Shortly after father left, mother went to Rwanda and I had to fend for myself. I missed them, that’s why my heart bleeds for these orphans,†he says.