Growing up, I never fully grasped the weight my mother carried — not until I stood in the very shoes she had once worn, trying to hold everything together for her children. Today, as a husband, a father, an accountant, and a man who still finds joy in learning code, I often look back and realize: my life is built on the unwavering love and sacrifice of a single mother who never gave up on us.
In 2005, when I was just a student trying to find my way through high school, my mother was waging silent battles. She had no formal job, only a few acres of sugarcane and a fierce belief that God would see us through. I remember how she would till the land all day, come home exhausted, and still manage to brew tea and light a lantern so I could study at night.
We were sent home for fees more times than I care to remember. But one day remains etched in my heart — the day I knelt under the scorching sun with a heavy backpack as punishment for sneaking back into school after being sent home yet again. I wasn’t trying to rebel. I was just trying to hold on to the little I had — hope.
My mother didn’t have riches, but she had faith. She once told me, “Allan, utasoma kwa neema za Mungu.” And that became our lifeline. When bursaries failed, when harvests came late, and when rejection knocked on every door, her belief in prayer and action kept us moving.
In 2007, against all odds, I transferred to St. Patrick’s Bukhakunga — a school that gave me peace, camaraderie, and the chance to rise academically. My performance improved, but it wasn’t just my grades that changed. It was my heart. I saw how teamwork, discipline, and sacrifice could build a future from nothing.
Even when I scored a C+ in my mock exams and doubted myself, my teachers — and more importantly, my mother — reminded me that the journey wasn’t over. She had fulfilled dad’s dream, and now it was time for me to carry that legacy forward.
Looking back, I don’t just see struggle — I see love in motion. I see a mother who gave everything so her children could have something and today, as I type this blog post from my laptop — in a home filled with laughter, stability, God's love and hope — I am a living testimony of what faith, grit, and a mother’s sacrifice can achieve.
To every young person walking a similar road: never underestimate the quiet power of the people who fight for you when no one else will.
Thanks for reading,
Allan Shitera
God's Child |Husband |Father | Accountant | Programmer | Grateful Son