This has been a wonderful day. It began quietly in my room, but my phone was already busy.
A message from Devotha came first... at 1:15am. She works so very hard! She let me know that all of the gifts for our sponsored boys would be delivered today, and that they had selected a child for my new sponsorship. Earlier in the week, I had told her I was ready to sponsor a third child. She offered to let me look through the profiles of children still in need of sponsors, but I told her I wanted the child who needed sponsorship the most.
Today she sent the name. I will be getting her a toy and one of the backpacks I brought with me.
She also wanted to finalize times to meet with the children and updated me on what was happening across campus: a full-day health outreach event from 7:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., with specialists and clinicians providing consultations, treatments, prescriptions, and lab work. Anything needing more thorough testing could be sent over to the health post.
At the same time, they were hosting a play day at the Field of Dreams, with cycling and various sports activities. Many community members, especially youth, were expected, and the mayor of Bugesera District and several other distinguished guests were scheduled to attend. It was one of those moments when you realize just how much is happening around you at any given time, even while you are reading messages in a quiet room.
Not long after, Josiane messaged to say that the handouts I had sent for the mothers in the malnutrition program were very helpful and that she would get them printed so we could distribute them on Tuesday. She also let me know that the student we had identified yesterday as needing mental health support had already been seen. Doctors visiting as part of the outreach—including those addressing mental health concerns—were available, and she was scheduled and treated. That news alone felt like a gift.
A debate about parents and responsibility
After answering messages and doing a bit of work, it was time to head to the high school for the debate. Today’s topic was:
Should parents be held legally responsible for their children’s crimes?
The students were ready. The debate was energetic, well-structured, and thoughtfully argued on both sides. You could feel how seriously they took the topic and how much preparation had gone into their points and rebuttals.
We had to leave before the final questions were asked and answered, but I later heard that the difference between the teams was only 0.1 percent. Both sides received very high marks. It felt like watching a room full of future leaders flex muscles they did not know they had.
After the debate, we headed to lunch and were joined by Innocent. He told us a bit about his name and his nickname, and the conversation flowed easily. Toward the end of lunch, Devotha came in, but she was so late she did not join us to eat. When we finished, we met her in the preparation room and visited for a few minutes. She told me she would come to my guesthouse later so we could talk through scheduling and a few other details.
Walking through a campus turned clinic
I went back to the guesthouse for a moment and then decided to walk over and see the health outreach in person. As I entered the area, I ran into Sabine. I told her how excited I was to see what was happening, and she said there were psychologists working from a mobile clinic and asked if I wanted to see it. I absolutely did.
We walked over, and she introduced me as a visitor. I stepped inside to see the two small rooms of the mobile clinic where mental health services were being offered. Then Sabine offered to show me the rest of the outreach.
The primary school classrooms had been transformed into treatment rooms. Doctors and volunteers from many different organizations were using every available space. By the time we walked through—around 12:30 or 1:00 p.m.—they had already seen more than 500 patients. The fellowship hall functioned as a waiting area, but families were sitting on the ground outside as well, waiting in lines that stretched down hallways and across walkways.
There were rooms for pediatrics, dentistry, ophthalmology, general medicine, and a lab. It was truly remarkable.
By early afternoon they had already seen more than five hundred patients, every classroom turned into a clinic and every hallway into a waiting room — hope moving through the campus in white coats and quiet conversations.
I told Sabine how impressed I was by the scope and coordination of it all. She said she had been planning this first health outreach since February, and that they hope to host many more. I certainly hope so. It was a beautiful picture of what it means to open the campus to serve the wider community.
I did not make it over to the Field of Dreams, where the play day and cycling events were happening. I had heard them from the debate area earlier in the day, but the activities ended at noon, and by the time I was free, they were over. I did hear that Serge came to close the event, and it was good to know he was on campus.
A quiet tree and a secret sponsorship
After the health outreach tour, I returned to my guesthouse, and Devotha joined me shortly afterwards. We talked about the gifts, the sponsored boys, and my new sponsored child. She told me that the girl is the daughter of one of the teen moms in the sewing program. For now, it is a secret until they bring her to meet me. I am so very happy about this particular connection—sponsorship woven into relationships that already exist.
In the middle of our conversation, we also talked about the mango tree. When my dad passed away in October 2023, Serge surprised us by messaging my mom and sending pictures of a mango tree they had planted in my dad’s honor. It was one of the kindest, most thoughtful gestures I can remember, and it meant so much to all of us.
I had been hoping to see the tree on this trip. The other day, I asked Devotha if it had survived and, if so, whether I could visit it. She sent me photos, and today she took me to see it in person.
Standing next to that young mango tree, rooted in Rwandan soil in honor of my dad, was a quiet, sacred moment. It really is the small things that sometimes mean the most: a tree planted in memory, a reminder that love stretches farther than we think.
“Standing beside a young mango tree planted in my dad’s honor, I was reminded that sometimes the smallest gestures — a sapling in foreign soil, a new sponsored child’s name — carry the heaviest weight of love.”
Afterwards, we walked back, and Devotha told me she was late for a meeting with Serge. I apologized for keeping her and sent her on her way.
Uno under the stairs and a founder at dinner
From my room, I listened for a while to the sounds of children playing sports and the hum of different activities across campus before getting ready for Conversation Corner.
Tonight was my second visit with this particular group of 7th graders. Today they wanted to play Uno. These were some of the longest games of Uno I have ever played. We split into two groups, and one game alone took nearly thirty minutes. There was so much laughter that at one point I looked up and saw two staff members standing on the stairs above us, watching and smiling. The students had a wonderful time. There is something delightful about a circle of teenagers, a deck of cards, and laughter that spills down the steps.
At dinner, Serge came to greet us. As I walked into the dining room, I noticed that the napkins were folded into beautiful designs at each place setting, and I suspected someone special might be joining us. We visited with him briefly before he left us to eat. Later, Devotha told me that his oldest child is here with him now, and the rest of his family will arrive this week.
It really strikes me, especially on days like this, to see what hope and hard work can do. Serge overcame so much in his own childhood and is something of a celebrity here now. The school and all the work his foundation does began as the vision of one young man who wanted to give back to the community where he grew up poor.
Now there are children learning, mothers receiving care and support, doctors serving in classrooms, teenagers debating complex questions, and a young mango tree growing in honor of my dad.
Hope is not abstract here; you can see it in motion—in the lines outside a classroom, the joy over a simple game, and the roots of a tree that is just beginning to bear shade.