In the quiet corners of Masaka, children run, laugh, and play under the midday sun. For many, these are ordinary scenes of childhood. Yet for some, life carries an invisible burden. Eleven-year-old Brian Shema Ingabire, a pupil in the sixth grade, has learned to navigate the world with type 1 diabetes. Each day begins with testing his blood sugar and calculating his insulin dose. Each meal, each activity, carries with it a careful consideration that most children cannot imagine. Shema, one of the children who participated in Ibyiringiro Camp, remembers the moment he first learned about his condition vividly. “I did not know what diabetes was. I was scared at first, but the doctors and the camp helped me understand how to live with it,” he says quietly. His voice carries the calm of someone who has faced fear repeatedly but has grown stronger for it. Following the diagnosis, his father abandoned him and his mother, saying that he is not ready to take care of a diabetic child. His mother however did not give up, doing everything she could to ensure that Shema embraces the life time journey. He is one of the many children whose lives have been touched by the Geraldine Trada Foundation, a Rwanda-registered organization co-founded by Tracy Mutesi and her daughter Geraldine Trada, who live in the UK. The foundation was born from personal tragedy. Mutesi lost her father and two cousins to diabetes and witnessed the devastation it can bring to a family. In 2015, Trada, then twelve years old, was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, intensifying the family’s resolve to act. Mutesi recalls those early days with painful clarity. “When my father passed away in 2018, I felt helpless. Then my daughter was diagnosed in 2015. She had seen my father suffer, and she was terrified. That is when I knew we had to do something meaningful, not just for her, but for other families who might face the same struggles,” she explains. For Trada who is currently pursuing her master's degree in the UK, understanding her condition was initially overwhelming. “I had no idea what was happening to me. Looking back, I wish I had known more. Visiting other children in hospitals like Muhima taught me that I was not alone, and it gave me the idea that I could help others,” Trada says. It was the beginning of a journey that would transform not just their lives but the lives of countless others. A Family confronts diabetes The foundation’s mission is deeply personal. Mutesi and Trada understood from their own experiences that living with diabetes required more than just medication. It required education, emotional support, and community. The organisation now runs multiple programs, including school outreach, type 1 diabetes camps for children and caregivers, and awareness campaigns focused on prevention through diet, exercise, and lifestyle education. Olive Mushimiyimana, a 34-year-old patient from Gatsata, remembers her own diagnosis at sixteen. “When I first found out, I was depressed. I had no idea what it meant to live with diabetes. The doctors explained little, and I felt alone,” she recalls. “Through these programs, I have learned how to manage my diet and monitor my health. It has given me hope and strength.” Mukamazimpaka Alivera, a nurse working with the Rwanda Diabetes Association, is directly involved with the foundation’s camps and programs. She explains that the initiatives focus on children, youth, and adults alike, ensuring that everyone living with diabetes receives guidance and support. “Children learn best when they see others like them. At the camp, they receive practical advice, emotional support, and the knowledge that they are not alone. This is crucial for their long-term health,” Mukamazimpaka says. Lessons in living with diabetes Last Friday, as the world marked World Diabetes Day, Trada and Mutesi were back in Rwanda to lead a two-day camp at Rabagirana in Masaka. The camp brought together children and young people living with diabetes. Participants were taught how to monitor their blood sugar, administer insulin safely, and embrace physical activity. Workshops also covered diet, nutrition, and psychological resilience. For Shema, the camp was transformative. “Now I know how to manage my insulin and stay healthy. I can play with my friends, exercise, and still live like other children. The camp made me feel strong,” he says. Mukamazimpaka notes that emotional support is as critical as medical guidance. “For children and youth, diabetes can feel isolating. Camp allows them to connect with peers, share experiences, and see that managing the condition is possible. They leave with confidence and hope, which is invaluable.” Beyond awareness, breaking stigma and educating communities Mutesi emphasises that education is a key pillar of the foundation. Many people still mistakenly believe that diabetes is caused solely by eating too much sugar. This misunderstanding often leads to stigma, particularly for children. “Education is everything. We show families and children how to live well with the condition, and we provide strategies to manage it effectively,” she explains. On Sunday, the foundation, in partnership with Gasabo District, organised a car-free day at the University of Kigali in Gisozi. The event included a fun run, mass sports activities, and diabetes screenings. Participants like Turikunkiko Rwema, a 31-year-old, valued the opportunity to check their health and learn how lifestyle choices could prevent disease. “Exercise helps both the body and mind,” she says. “The program taught me how to stay fit and take care of myself, which I will continue to do.” Stories of struggle and resilience Not all stories from the camp are of optimism alone. Jean Damaschee Uzabakiriho, 39, discovered he had type 2 diabetes in 2000 and has lived with complications ever since. His leg was amputated in 2015 and he moves on a clutch and a prosthesis. His wife, Beatrice Nyirashimiyimana, 37, is battling fast-progressing vitiligo, a skin condition that has caused both physical and emotional strain. Uzabakiriho explains the daily challenges. “I need help to access treatment consistently. The foundation has been instrumental in connecting us to resources and support. It is not just about medicine; it is about guidance and hope,” he says. Nyirashimiyimana adds that the condition affects not just health but every aspect of daily life. “It limits what I can do. I feel helpless sometimes, but knowing that support is available makes a difference,” she explains. The stories of Uzabakiriho and Mushimiyimana underline a broader reality: diabetes in Rwanda is not merely a medical condition, it is also a social and economic challenge. Many patients face obstacles including high treatment costs, dietary restrictions, and limited access to specialized care. Programs like the Geraldine Trada Foundation fill these gaps, providing education, advocacy, and a community of support. Impact on children and families Mukamazimpaka stresses the importance of early detection and continuous education. “Children need guidance not just for themselves but also for their families. Parents must understand how to support their children, and children need to be empowered to make informed choices. The foundation ensures that this knowledge is accessible,” she says. Through camps and outreach, children gain a sense of agency. They learn how to monitor their condition, administer insulin safely, and understand the consequences of inaction. The foundation also provides opportunities for peer connection, helping children feel less isolated and more resilient. A vision for the future Trada emphasizes that the fight against diabetes extends beyond treatment to prevention and public education. “We want every child with diabetes in Rwanda to feel empowered and supported. Awareness, early detection, and lifestyle education are key. No one should feel that diabetes defines them,” she says. Mutesi highlights the foundation’s long-term goal: to prevent type 2 diabetes through lifestyle education, promoting balanced diets and regular physical activity. She sees children as agents of change, influencing their families and communities. “Education is the foundation for prevention. When children understand healthy habits, they can pass that knowledge to parents and siblings,” she explains. The impact of the foundation is visible in the eyes of Shema, in the confidence of Mushimiyimana, and in the gratitude of families like the Uzabakiriho family. It is a story of resilience, compassion, and the transformative power of turning personal tragedy into collective action. From Loss to leadership Mutesi and Trada’s journey demonstrates the extraordinary difference one family can make when grief is transformed into purpose. They have created programs that empower children, educate communities, and support families navigating the complexities of diabetes. The laughter of children at the Rabagirana camp is a living testament to their work. For a few hours, needles and sugar monitors are forgotten, replaced by play, friendship, and learning. As the children left the camp with new skills, hope, and a sense of belonging, thanks to Mutesi and Trada, they had the chance to grow up strong, informed, and supported. Why early detection is key Alphonse Ntirenganya, the nurse in charge of non-communicable diseases at Kagugu Health Centre, reflected on the impact of the screening at the car‑free day in Gisozi. He expressed satisfaction that “many people came forward who never would have gone for a test otherwise.” According to him, the free screening was a crucial opportunity: “Some of those screened had never checked their blood sugar. Early detection gives them a fighting chance.” He also emphasised the need for follow-up care, noting that screening is only the first step in a continuum of managing diabetes. Without proper linkage to health services, those found at risk may fall through the cracks. Recent data illustrate why such efforts are urgently needed. According to the latest NCDs STEPS survey, the prevalence of raised fasting blood glucose (or current medication for elevated glucose) in Rwanda remains around 3 percent, with the City of Kigali showing notably higher rates. Projections are even more troubling: one model estimates type 2 diabetes prevalence could reach 22.6 percent by 2025, up from just 2.8 percent in 2015. These figures highlight a rapidly growing public health threat that demands sustained preventive action as well as improved care. Celebrating World Diabetes Day is therefore more than symbolic. It is a vital platform for education, advocacy, and screening. In Rwanda, this year’s national campaign, themed “Live Well, Prevent Diabetes: Get Screened”, underscores the importance of regular testing and lifestyle changes. Through such initiatives, the Ministry of Health and partners such as Rwanda NCD Alliance, seek to reach underserved communities, encourage early diagnosis, and reduce complications that come when diabetes goes undetected. Beyond raising awareness, the day offers an opportunity to tackle stigma. Many Rwandans still hold misconceptions about diabetes, for instance, believing it is always linked to eating too much sugar or that it is a disease only affecting the wealthy. Mutesi and Trada’s work in public education, especially among children, is closely aligned with the aims of WDD: to make diabetes understood, manageable, and destigmatized. By combining screening with counselling and peer support, they help shift the narrative from fear to empowerment. Ultimately, the fight against diabetes in Rwanda must be a sustained, multi‑sectoral effort. The screening at car‑free day, Alphonse’s insights, and the foundation’s advocacy show that community-led action can make a real difference. But they also point to the larger picture: rising prevalence, gaps in diagnosis, and the need for policies and programs that support early detection, education, and long-term care. As WDD reminds the world, diabetes is not just an individual disease, it is a societal challenge that calls for collective response.
