From Tribal Conflict to International Relations

My name is Ibrahim, and my story begins in Bunia, in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. My childhood was not easy. I was born into a time of tribal conflict, fear, and uncertainty. My mother was Balendu, while my father came from a tribe that was considered an enemy. Their relationship was not accepted by the people around them, and when I was still very young, my mother left. I remember seeing her with my uncle under a palm tree. She looked back at me, and then I watched her figure vanish. I was too young to understand everything, but I understood that someone I loved was gone.

Losing my parents and growing up without a stable family affected me deeply. I became a child of the streets. I learned very early what hunger, loneliness, fear, and survival meant. There were nights when gunfire and explosions were part of the environment around me. I did not have a home in the way other children understand home. I searched for safety wherever I could find it.

When the violence grew worse, I ran into the forest. I was still a child. For several days I survived by searching for food, sleeping in trees, and following the sunlight because I had no other direction. Eventually I found my way back to Bunia and later lived in a refugee camp. I experienced many things no child should experience. I was separated from a normal childhood, exposed to violence, and at one point taken by an armed group and forced into a life I never chose.

Those years taught me endurance. I learned how to survive. But I also learned that survival alone was not enough. Somewhere inside me, I kept believing my life could become something different.

Faith became one of the greatest sources of my courage. Even when I had nothing, I believed God had not forgotten me. There were moments when I should have lost hope, but something inside me kept saying, keep going. I began to believe that my circumstances were not the final definition of who I was.

One of the most important encounters of my life happened when I was fourteen, in 2014. I went to an English-speaking church in Congo, where I met an American volunteer named Scott Prewett from California. I remember being amazed by him. I had never imagined that someone from a completely different world could take an interest in me. I told him I wanted to go to America with him. He did not laugh at my dream. He told me that maybe one day it could be possible.

Before he left Congo, he gave me his Facebook contact. It was a small thing. To me it meant something much bigger. I had met someone who saw me beyond my circumstances.

Eventually I left Congo and traveled toward Uganda. The journey was difficult. I walked long distances, crossed Lake Albert by boat, and arrived with almost nothing. In Kampala, I slept on verandas and sometimes at petrol stations. I washed dishes to get food. I went to internet cafés trying to reach Scott. There were many times I wondered what would happen to me.

Then, after about four years, Scott finally contacted me.

That connection led me to people who changed the direction of my life. I met Aunt Faith, who helped me reach the Bringing Hope to the Family community. Being welcomed there meant more than food, shelter, and education. It meant belonging. For someone who had spent much of his childhood feeling alone, belonging was powerful.

Education began changing how I saw myself. I realized I was capable of learning, growing, and contributing. People began recognizing gifts in me that I had not fully recognized in myself.

Dr. Robert Miller, a Canadian volunteer who visited Uganda while I was in the children’s home, offered to support my university education. Through people like him, I began to understand that receiving help did not mean I had to remain dependent forever. It could become a foundation from which I could eventually help others.

Today I am a second-year student studying International Relations and Governance at Uganda Christian University. I chose International Relations because I have seen what conflict, displacement, poverty, and division do to individuals and communities. I want to understand the systems behind these problems and become part of building better solutions.

My education has given me more than a degree. It has given me a wider vision of the world and helped me understand that my voice has value. I also serve alongside Pastor Enock De Assis as Social Media Intern with ThinSpace Africa, helping tell the stories of the people and organizations ThinSpace serves. It has given me a place to contribute my creativity, my ideas, my communication skills, and my own experience. I am learning that I do not have to wait until I become someone important before I can contribute. I can serve with what I have today.

My journey has taught me that moving from receiving support to supporting others is part of becoming. I will never forget the people who helped me. I also want my life to become an answer to the kindness I received.

I still have many dreams. I want to become a man of integrity, a leader who understands people, someone who can contribute to peace, development, and opportunity in Africa and beyond. I especially want young people who have experienced displacement, poverty, or abandonment to discover that their circumstances do not have to determine their future.

If I could speak to a young refugee or orphan who feels their future has disappeared, I would say this: do not allow your present circumstances to become the definition of your future. I know what it feels like to have almost nothing. I know what it means to be lonely and uncertain. But I also know that a small opportunity — one relationship, one decision, one lesson, one moment of faith — can change the direction of a life.

I am still becoming. I have not arrived at the destination I dream about. But I am no longer the child standing outside the airport fence, wondering what the world looks like beyond it. I am learning to participate in that world and, one day, to help build a better one.

To everyone who has walked alongside me — those who fed me, taught me, prayed for me, encouraged me, sponsored my education, opened doors, and simply believed in me — thank you. Your kindness became part of my story.

I also believe God was writing a story through all of it.

I came from dust, conflict, loneliness, and uncertainty. Today I carry hope, education, faith, relationships, and a growing sense of purpose. My past is part of me. It is not the limit of where I can go.

By Ibrahim Savo, ThinSpace Africa Social Media Intern