A light in the darkness

I love people. I love what makes each of us unique, and I’m constantly in awe of what makes us all the same. Despite culture and distance, our joint humanity brings us together. We are wonderfully made.

I am a storyteller, and as the Director of Communications at Tutapona, I’m able to give reach to the voices of those who feel forgotten by the world. They’re not easy stories to tell, and they don’t always have conventional happy endings.  BUT they are happy. They’re filled with finding joy in the small places, having hope in the hard places, and being brave enough to keep going.

Nehema, just before her son Tutapona was born.

Wherever I go, I carry them with me. These stories are transformational, and though we’re separated by continents and oceans, they help me feel connected to other mothers, sisters, and daughters. I’m humbled and honored to be able to share them with you.

I met Nehema a few years ago in her home in a refugee settlement near the Congolese border. She was very pregnant - due any day - and her other children stuck close. They had been in Uganda for less than a year, and after a rape, the murder of her husband, and the abduction of her eldest as debt payment, they thought they would be safe. But another attack within the settlement brought another baby, and she felt like all hope was lost.

She became suicidal. 

When Nehema came to Tutapona, our facilitators jumped in, offering individual counseling sessions to help her through the hardship and tragedy she has faced. They helped her navigate the right channels to move to a safe place, away from her attacker, and they checked in regularly. The circle of support that surrounded Nehema and her family helped them heal, and helped them grow. 

Nehema’s family in their home in Uganda.

When her baby was born just a few days after our visit, she named him Tutapona because the help she received saved her life - and his. Tutapona means ‘We Will Be Healed’. To me, that shows genuine hope for the future of her family.

At this time of year, we reflect on the long, hard journey made by Mary and Joseph and their search for a safe space for the coming baby. Journeys like theirs are still a reality for millions of people around the world. Nehema’s is just one reminder of this - and her story ends with hope, just like Mary and Joseph’s did.  We want to be able to offer that hope to the others traveling this hard road as well.

Tutapona is my family. My new son, born from the last attack, is named Tutapona because I know that now, my family has hope and we will be healed. If it was not for Tutapona as an organization, I would have committed suicide especially at the time when I found out that I was pregnant out of the rape. Your individual sessions helped me to view life differently and I have hope that things can change for the better. I am not where I want to be, but I see light each day.
— Nehema

Little Tutapona, with his family in December 2021

Recently, our staff was able to visit with Nehema again. Little Tutapona is thriving, and the family is so well.  My heart is full when I look at their photos and see the joy in their faces!  I’ll continue to carry that with me, too. 

 

- Chaundra Eagar

Director of Communications

To read Nehema’s full story:  

https://www.tutapona.com/stories/nahema