Leadership didn’t come to me through books or speeches. It came through silence. It came through sitting next to a boy who had lost his entire family, and not knowing what to say. It came through standing between two angry men arguing over food rations and finding the courage to remind them we are not enemies.
My name is David Mugisha, and I live in Nakivale Refugee Settlement. I am not a politician, a teacher, or a professional of any kind. But in this camp, I’ve learned that leadership is not a position—it’s a decision. And I’ve chosen to lead, even when I didn’t feel ready.
A Beginning Marked by Loss, Not Power
When I arrived in Nakivale from South Kivu, I was 17. I had lost my father during the conflict, and I had seen more fear in one year than some see in a lifetime. Like many others, I thought Nakivale would just be a place to survive until things got better.
But survival alone is not enough.
After a few months, I began helping out at a youth center near our zone. I translated for new families. I helped organize football matches between young people from different backgrounds. That’s where I saw something I never expected: peace was possible—but it had to be built.
And peace needs leaders.
The Kind of Leader I Chose to Be
I chose to be the kind of leader who listens before speaking, who serves before asking, and who lifts others even while still healing myself.
I started a small initiative called “Together for Change”—a group of youth volunteers who meet weekly to clean around our zone, help the elderly, and talk about issues that divide us: tribalism, jealousy, trauma, and fear. We don’t have funding. We have ideas, commitment, and plastic chairs under a borrowed tent.
Sometimes, we invite community elders to talk. Other times, we just let people share how they’re feeling. That alone is healing. That alone is leadership.
Leadership With Bare Hands and a Full Heart
We don’t have whiteboards or microphones. We write notes on torn paper and speak from the heart. And yet—somehow—those simple gatherings have made people feel safer, stronger, more connected.
I’ve seen angry boys become peer mentors. I’ve seen girls who once stayed silent now speak with confidence. I’ve seen tribes that once refused to sit together now laugh during football matches.
That’s what leadership can do.
Not by force. Not by fear. But by showing up, again and again.
Why I Lead
I lead because someone once believed in me—a youth mentor from Rwanda who told me, “David, even the darkest places need a candle.” That sentence changed everything. It made me realize that we can be the light we are waiting for.
I lead because there are younger boys watching. I lead because our sisters need to know they matter. I lead because if we don’t shape the future of Nakivale, someone else will—someone who doesn’t know us, love us, or understand what we’ve been through.
I lead because I believe that peace begins with us, and that one day, this settlement will not just be a place of refuge, but a center of innovation, unity, and hope.
Final Words to the World
To those outside Nakivale, don’t just see us as people in need. See us as people with dreams, with dignity, with leadership rising from the ashes. In this camp, every day, young people like me are becoming builders of peace, teachers of children, protectors of hope.
We may not be on TV. We may not have degrees.
But we have vision, courage, and community.
And that, too, is leadership.
