At her one-room home in Kazo Muganzirwaza, a bustling Kampala suburb, 28-year-old Grace Tumuhibise sits quietly on her doorstep, watching time slip by. Once, she dreamed of carving out a modest living selling clothes at Qualicel House. She and five other young women shared a tiny apartment downtown, pooling their meager earnings to cover rent and transport. Their rhythm was steady: hustle all week, save what little they could, then return to their families every Sunday.

But one morning, that rhythm shattered.

Grace and her roommate Sarah, who often shared a single mattress, awoke with fever and itchy skin. They dismissed it as food poisoning from the night before, but within hours, angry rashes appeared. By the next day, fear spread faster than the illness. Their roommates, terrified, demanded they leave.

With nowhere else to go, Grace returned home to Kazo. But instead of comfort, she was met with suspicion. Her husband, having seen frightening clips about a strange disease called Mpox, barred her from entering. That night, she curled up on the cold veranda as her children slept inside. “I felt like I was walking through hell,” she recalled, tears welling in her eyes.

The rejection cut deeper than the illness. Within days, her husband left with their three children, accusing her of infidelity as the cause of her sickness. Alone and weak, Grace endured night after night of fever and nightmares. Relatives in the village sent food and a little money, but the loneliness was crushing.

Then came a turning point. When a neighbor showed similar symptoms, Uganda Red Cross Society volunteers, supported by UNICEF, arrived at her community for a door-to-door campaign. From her window, Grace watched nervously before gathering the courage to step outside and whisper her truth: “I have it too.”

The volunteers took her to Entebbe for treatment. For three weeks, she fought through pain and fear, but slowly, healing began.

Today, back in Kazo, Grace carries visible scars — patches on her skin that make her self-conscious. “I look like a crocodile,” she says, tugging at her sleeve. But she also carries something stronger: resilience.

With Red Cross support, survivors like Grace are learning not only about prevention but also how to live free from stigma. Grace now speaks out, urging others to act early and not hide. “If anything, I urge everyone to heed the warnings about Mpox,” she says firmly. “Awareness is key to prevention.”

As she sits on her doorstep, her gaze lingers on the street where her children once played. Her dream now is simple: to rebuild, to reunite with her family, and to live free from fear. In her story, there is heartbreak — but also a beacon of hope.