Cups of Hope — 200 Children in the streets of Lira City take a cup of millet porriadge Every Week, for 12 Weeks.

My name is Ogwang Abel.

Before I ever thought about starting a foundation, I was a hungry child myself. My parents' marriage ended because of violence in our home, and when it ended, my grand mother was the one left to carry all of us alone, with almost nothing to hold onto.

I was nine years old the first time I understood what it means to have nowhere to belong. I had been sent to live with a maternal uncle so that I could go to school which was over 10kms on foot everyday, unfortunately, my uncle died. Just like that, the one roof I had was gone, and I was moved again, this time to an aunt's home, where I was not treated like family. I was treated like labor. I worked before I was allowed to rest, and I only rested once everyone else's needs had been met.

The other children in the neighborhood did not let me forget where I had come from either. They mocked me about my mother, about the violence that broke our home, about a childhood I never chose for myself. I was a child, and I already knew what it felt like to be talked about like I was a mistake.

There were seasons with almost nothing. No shoes. No full stomach. No adult who thought to ask if I was okay. I dug in other people's gardens for money, i layed 10 bricks for 100 Uganda shillings untill it was enough, not to play, but to buy a pen and an exercise book. I walked every morning from Anai to reach Faith Senior Secondary School and back because giving up was never something I was willing to accept, even when I had every reason to.

The only place I never had to explain myself, never had to earn my welcome, was my grandmother Margaret's home. She had almost nothing herself. But she never once made me feel like I was extra, like a burden, like I did not belong. In a childhood full of people who moved me along, she was the one who let me stay.

I am telling you this because I need you to understand something. When I say I know what it is to be a hungry child standing at the edge of a community, unseen, I am not exaggerating for a fundraiser. I lived it. And I am asking you to help make sure fewer children in Lira City have to live it too.

Cups of Hope is a small thing. Porridge, once a week, for twelve weeks for the start. But small, consistent things are exactly what saved me. Give what you can. You will be someone's Margaret. If you can, you can commit to a daily, weekly, monthly, quaterly giving options so that one after another we are all Margaret to a child like Abel that was.