She Was Called Damali, Don't Forget.

When people talk about knowledge, most think of classrooms, books, and degrees. When they speak of life, they speak of careers, achievements, and wealth. That’s what I believed too. I thought living meant being successful, being known, building a name.

But then came Damali, a girl the world barely noticed. A girl whose life and death shattered every definition I had of knowledge, purpose, and greatness. She didn’t live long by our standards, but in her short life, she rewrote the meaning of what it means to truly live.

She left behind two powerful truths, simple, but deeper than any philosophy:

"Knowledge is just a gift."
"The reason we live is to fulfill a purpose."

She didn’t go far in school, stopped at Primary Six. No degrees. No job titles. No CVs to show. But the knowledge she carried in her spirit outshone PhDs. Her wisdom wasn’t from books, it was a gift.

The world called her poor. Uneducated. Useless. Even her own family threw her away, like a name that didn’t matter. But Uganda? Uganda saw gold.

I was at her burial.

It was something I’ll never forget.

The atmosphere wasn’t just emotional, it was holy. You could feel it. You could taste it. People didn’t come to mourn a girl, they came to honor a giant. They came to say goodbye to a warrior who lived not for herself, but for us. For truth. For freedom.

And there, one question rang loud in people’s minds:

"How can someone with nothing, be given a send-off fit for royalty?"

Dignitaries came. Influencers. Activists. Even Bobi Wine, the voice of a new generation, spoke in recognition of her fight. A girl born in poverty, pushed aside by her own people, yet she was buried as one of the greatest.

Her legacy stood taller than degrees. Louder than applause. Stronger than money. Because Damali didn’t live for applause, she lived for purpose. And purpose will always outlive position.

Let me tell you something I’ve come to believe with all my heart:

Dying is for everyone. But dying for others is what truly matters.

Look at Mandela. He may have died, but he still walks through stadiums, classrooms, books and streets. Why? Because servants never die. Those who give their lives for others never fade from history.

Damali was a servant of that kind. She gave up her life not for fame, but for freedom. For me and you. For our children. For the children of our children. She fought not with guns, but with courage. Not with wealth, but with a voice that refused to be quiet.

And now, even in death, she speaks louder than ever.

Those who laughed at her, those who called her a failure, left her burial with their heads down. Their luxurious lives, their education and their pride, it meant nothing in the face of her sacrifice. They realized that greatness has never been about wealth or position. It has always been about serving.

A true servant is greater than kings, presidents, or billionaires.

That’s who Damali was.
That’s who she still is.
The greatest.

In her family, the one that rejected her, she has now become the name that history will remember. In a nation that is hungry for hope, she has become a seed planted in the soil of sacrifice. And from that seed, a new Uganda will grow.

As I stood there at her grave, one thing became clear to me:

Life is not about how long you live, but what you live for.

And Damali lived for something eternal.

The Bible says:
“All things work together for good, for those who love God.”
And I believe with everything in me that God took Damali, not to silence her, but to amplify her voice. Not to punish her, but to glorify His name through her life. To show the world that He raises up the rejected. He crowns the humble. He honors the forgotten.

So I ask you, what will your life stand for? What will you be remembered for? You, who always shouts that you're not part of the struggle.

The cars, the titles, the likes on your posts, they all fade. But legacy? Service? Truth?
Those are eternal.

Damali gave her life for others.
And because of that, she will never die.