That voice became CERESAV —a place of refuge, rehabilitation, and resistance. We began as a small effort to support acid survivors in Uganda. Today, we are a growing global network with a mission that stretches beyond borders, beyond surgeries, beyond laws. We are building a world where survivors become advocates, where pain becomes power. Our programs on the ground are intimate and practical. Every week, our trained counselors visit survivors at Mulago Hospital’s burn unit, bringing not only food and dressings but also emotional presence. We sit with survivors in their silence. We pray with them. We listen to their stories without judgment. Through our Equip Circles, we provide spaces where survivors can talk, share, laugh, and rediscover their voice. Some of our former patients now lead workshops, visit schools, and stand before parliaments demanding justice. This is what makes our work different: we are survivor-led and survivor-centered. We know that healing must touch every layer—emotional, legal, economic, and spiritual. That’s why we provide skills training in crafts, computer literacy, and small-scale agribusiness. That’s why we offer scholarships to the children of survivors, ensuring that violence doesn’t cascade into another generation. And that’s why we relentlessly pursue legislative reform—because changing systems is the only way to stop acid violence before it starts. Our strength doesn’t come from me alone. It comes from an international Board of Directors that reflects the diversity of our mission. Legal scholars in the United Kingdom help shape our approach to prosecutorial justice. Our American board members offer pro bono legal advice and assist with strategic fundraising. Ugandan experts, deeply connected to the realities on the ground, guide our operations with cultural clarity and compassion. Together, they form a leadership tapestry that is both global and grassroots. I’ve been blessed to share this story around the world. From speaking annually at Harvard University , to being featured in TEDx Talks , to standing before global policy forums in Geneva, my message has always been the same: violence cannot silence us if we refuse to disappear. I’ve met professors, faith leaders, human rights lawyers, and survivors from every continent—each carrying their own scars, each searching for a way to heal the world they inherited. These global relationships mean the world to me. They remind me that CERESAV is not a Ugandan story. It is a human story. It is the story of what happens when people decide that justice is not optional. It is the story of what happens when pain is not wasted. To our partners, board members, allies, donors, and prayer warriors across the globe— thank you. Thank you for believing that a scarred face is not a symbol of shame, but a banner of survival. Thank you for giving survivors like me a second chance—not only to live, but to lead. I still carry the scars. I always will. But through CERESAV, through every survivor who becomes a teacher, a businesswoman or businessman, a public speaker, a friend—I’ve come to understand something profound: Healing is not the end of the story. Healing is the beginning of leadership.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE As was mentioned, I met this wonderful and funny woman nearly two years ago in Dallas, Texas, at an annual conference of the Ugandan diaspora in North America. Because I am active in ministry work in Uganda, it made sense to me that I should learn more about Ugandans in the USA and Canada, so I joined the organization, UNAA.org and attended these past years. I have come to know and love Hanifa and her girls, and serve on the CERESAV Board of Directors these past two years.
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