A Christmas Story Written in Care and Courage

Christmas is supposed to be a season of joy. Of laughter, family, warmth, and togetherness.
But for many children who come to my home, Christmas once meant something else, silence, absence, and unanswered questions. Questions no child should ever carry. Why was I left? What is my fault?

I didn’t start this home with a plan. I started it with a broken heart. A heart that could not look away from children born with HIV, children abandoned because of fear, stigma, or circumstances beyond their control. 

Some were left by parents who never returned. Some were brought by grandparents who loved them but could no longer care for them after their own children passed away. None of these children chose this life.

And yet, they are the ones who suffer the most.

This place slowly became more than a shelter. It became a home. A place where children could feel safe again. Where Christmas isn’t about gifts, but about belonging. Here, they call me Appa, father. And when I hear that word, I feel the weight of their trust, their pain, and their hope resting on my shoulders.

But Christmas also brings back the hardest memories.

There are children I have lost. Small lives taken too soon by illness. I have held their hands. I have performed their final rites. I have buried children who should have been opening presents, going to school, dreaming of the future. Every time I lose one, I ask the same question, what was their fault? Why did they have to carry so much pain in such tiny bodies?

There are nights during Christmas when the lights are up, but my heart feels heavy. The pain does not leave. I don’t think it ever will. But every morning, other children wake up. They smile. They call my name. And I stay, because they still need me.

Today, I care for dozens of children. I pay for the education of nearly 45 of them because I believe education is the greatest gift we can give. 

I make sure they have clean clothes because the world already looks at them with judgment, I don’t want them to feel that judgment when they look in the mirror.

This Christmas, my prayer is simple. That no child sleeps hungry. That no child feels forgotten. That this home continues to be a place of warmth, dignity, and hope.

But I cannot do this alone. Food, medicines, school fees, hospital visits, clothing, shelter, every day is a struggle. Your support this Christmas can keep this home alive. It can help a child stay healthy, stay in school, and feel loved.

They call me Appa. This Christmas, you can become family too. Please help me keep the light on for the children who found their hope here.