A MESSAGE FROM ABEL:

"I am safe in Canada now, but I have not forgotten the people I left behind.

When I was in South Sudan, so many people helped me survive and eventually reach safety. Now I want the next chapter of my life to be about helping others who are still there.

My friends in Gorom Refugee Camp continue to live in extremely difficult conditions. For LGBTQ refugees, life can be especially dangerous. They still need help with food, medicine, shelter, transportation and other basic needs.

I do not want my story to end simply with my own escape to safety. I want my legacy to be that, once I was safe, I reached back and helped others move toward safety too.

This fundraiser will now focus on supporting the people I left behind. If you helped me before, thank you. You changed my life. If you are able to help again, even a small donation can make a real difference. And if you cannot donate, please share this fundraiser so that more people can see it.

I made it to safety. Now I want to help others do the same."

The image accompanying this update is AI-generated so that the identities and safety of LGBTQ refugees in South Sudan are protected.

DON’T LEAVE THEM BEHIND

My friend recently made it safely to Canada after being forced to flee Gorom Refugee Camp in South Sudan.

While he is now physically safe, many of the people he left behind are still living in extremely difficult conditions in the camp.

Families there continue to face:

Even after leaving, he has not been able to forget them.

This fundraiser is his way of doing something simple but meaningful:

To support the people who are still there.

❤️ WHY THIS MATTERS

Gorom is still home to many people who have nowhere else to go.

For them, daily life is not about rebuilding yet — it is about survival.

Even small contributions can help provide basic necessities and relief for those most in need.

️ HIS MESSAGE

He made it out.

But others are still inside.

So the message is simple:

Don’t leave them behind.

Help Abel Bbongo, a Gay Refugee, Heal and Survive

"Hello, my name is Abel. I am a 24‑year‑old gay man, human rights defender, and refugee from Uganda.

My story is long, painful, and still unfinished — but I want to share it, because your help could mean the difference between despair and survival.

I grew up in the small Ugandan village of Nakibole, in Buikwe District. My childhood was simple, even happy, until the weight of who I am — and how the world around me saw me — began to close in.

I realized I was gay when I was about 15. In school, I formed quiet, secret relationships with older boys who treated me with kindness in a society that condemned me. In Uganda, being gay isn’t just “unaccepted” — it’s seen as evil.

In 2017, my world collapsed.

During a school vacation, my mother caught me with another boy. Her shock and anger were so intense that her blood pressure spiked, and she collapsed. She was rushed to the hospital, but she did not survive.

At her funeral, grief turned into rage. My family and the entire community blamed me for her death. They said I had killed my own mother. I was brutally beaten, and my siblings and I were thrown out of our home.

From that day forward, I had no safety.

I ran from one place to another — to friends’ homes, to villages where no one knew me. I took work in sugarcane plantations, barely surviving. Even there, I faced exploitation. My boss discovered my secret, pressured me sexually, and when I gave in out of fear, he raised my pay — but it was not a choice, it was survival.

Then, in 2019, at an end‑of‑year party, we were seen together in an intimate moment. A village boy raised the alarm. A mob gathered. We were attacked. I barely escaped with my life.

I fled again.

By January 2020, I had reached the Malaba border, where a man told me the Red Cross in Kenya might help. They sent me to Kakuma Refugee Camp.

But Kakuma was not safety.

From the first day I arrived, I was attacked almost daily. I carry scars — some on my body, some deeper — that will never fully heal. Kenyan authorities ignored the violence. I lost hope waiting for help that never came.

In 2024, I fled again — this time to another country (which I cannot disclose for my safety), hoping UNHCR there might help me where Kenya had failed.

Recently, my story became intertwined with others.

Three other young gay men, each from different East African nations, were also forced to run for their lives. They have faced many of the same horrors — mobs, beatings, family rejection, and the daily fear that simply being who they are could cost them everything.

When they had nowhere to go, I had to open the door to my small, self‑built hut and take them in. I know what they have been through.

Now four of us are sharing our fragile shelter. We have each other, but we have almost nothing else."

This fundraiser will be used for:

A note from the campaign organizer:

My name is Jeremy, and I am managing this fundraiser for Abel because where he is now, he cannot safely or directly run a campaign himself.

For Abel and the others' safety, the photo I have asked them to send me, and have used, is from behind only. In the country where they are currently in exile, being openly gay could still mean harassment, imprisonment, or even death by murder. When Abel is safe, we hope to share more of his and the others' lives — and their faces — with all of you.

Every donation will go directly to Abel’s living expenses, medical care, and legal needs. He will dispense the payments to the others. I trust Abel.

Your support — whether through a donation or simply sharing this page — means more than words can say.

Thank you for reading Abel’s story, and for standing with him in this fight for life.