How my parents helped me start this project

My parents taught me that the world doesn't owe you anything, but you owe the world something. They showed me this through their actions, not their words. When I was young, they took me to Rwanda. I remember the dust on the roads, the brightness of the sky, the faces of children who had nothing but somehow smiled anyway.

I didn't understand it then. How could they smile? What did they have to smile about? My parents sat with me and said nothing. They just let me watch. Let me listen. Let me feel the weight of it.

Years passed. I grew older. I couldn't shake what I'd seen. Those children stayed with me like a song you can't get out of your head. My parents never pushed me toward anything. They just asked questions. What did you see? What do you think about it? What are you going to do?

I started small. I saved money from jobs I didn't care about. I sent it to people I didn't know. It felt hollow. Charity from a distance. My parents asked again, the same way they always did. Is this enough? Is this real?

Then I met people in Rwanda who were doing the work differently. Sangira for Friends had been there for years, building relationships, not just handing out money. Art for Change Rwanda was teaching children that their creativity mattered. That they mattered. I realized what my parents had been trying to teach me all along—that real change comes from presence, not pity.

Youma Foundation started because I couldn't look away anymore. Because my parents raised me to believe that some things are worth your time, your energy, your life. Because I met children who deserved more than my guilt. They deserved my commitment.

Every child we support has a name. A story. A future that depends on someone believing in them. My parents taught me that belief is a verb. It's something you do, not something you feel. You show up. You listen. You stay.

This work continues because it must. Because children in Rwanda are still waiting for someone to believe in them. Because my parents taught me that the world doesn't change through grand gestures. It changes through people who refuse to look away.

I think about them often when I see the progress our children make. When a girl goes to school because someone decided to support her. When a boy creates art that heals him. When a child knows, without question, that someone believes in their future. My parents would recognize this. They'd see their own values reflected back at them.

That's what Youma Foundation is. It's my parents' lesson made real. It's the belief that every child deserves a chance, and that chance comes from someone willing to stay present, to listen, to commit. It's the understanding that dignity isn't something you earn. It's something you're born with.

The work is hard. Some days it feels impossible. But then I remember sitting in the dust with my parents, watching children smile despite everything. I remember their question. What are you going to do? And I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm doing what they taught me. I'm refusing to look away.