Before 2005, I was living a fairly typical life as a soccer mom—raising kids, coaching games, staying busy with family routines. That December, everything shifted when I met a Somali refugee family who had recently arrived in our community. They were navigating profound challenges after fleeing a long and brutal civil war. Meeting them opened my eyes to the complexities of displacement, survival, and the global refugee crisis. I began learning more about their journey and the circumstances that forced them to leave their home.

As I continued to educate myself, I came across the stories of children in Northern Uganda—children who were known as “night commuters.” Each evening, these young people walked miles to sleep in safer areas—like hospital verandas or near police stations—to avoid abduction by the Lord’s Resistance Army. In the morning, they would walk back to their villages, repeating the journey day after day. I was stunned—both by the resilience of these children and by how little I had known about their lives.

In 2006, the LRA left Uganda, and while the violence moved elsewhere, it left behind a landscape of grief, trauma, and loss. I felt pulled to witness the reality on the ground—not out of charity, but out of a desire to learn, to listen, and to better understand. In 2008, I traveled to Uganda and volunteered in orphan homes and camps for internally displaced people. Drawing on my experience as a soccer coach, I worked with youth—many of whom were navigating deep hardship—with the goal of building connection through sport.

I noticed how girls often faced more significant barriers to education and play. While boys were encouraged to play soccer, many girls were expected to fetch water or take care of household tasks. That observation sparked a deeper desire to return—not just to help, but to create space for mutual exchange, empowerment, and dialogue.

In 2009, I came back to Uganda as the coach of the first American girls soccer team to visit the region. We called the project Goals for Girls—using soccer not just as a game, but as a tool for connection, confidence, and community building. We hosted clinics and conversations with Ugandan girls, focusing on goal-setting, health, and education. Many of the girls we worked with had been displaced or deeply affected by conflict, and yet, their strength, humor, and dreams left an indelible impact on all of us.

One moment in particular has stayed with me. While visiting an IDP camp, an elder named Tiger approached our group. With deep emotion, he asked, “Why have you not seen the suffering of our people?” His words were not an accusation—they were a cry to be seen. He implored us to remember, to bear witness, and to tell the truth of what we had learned.

That day, I made a promise—not to speak for anyone, but to amplify the stories and resilience of the communities I had come to know. From that commitment, the African Promise Foundation was born. It continues to be a reflection of the promise I made to Tiger—to listen, to walk alongside, and to never forget.

~Suzy Benson, Founder, African Promise Foundation