From a village with no school
to building one.
Every mile I walked shaped who I am. This is how I got here.
The Village
I was born in Akeer Adoor — a small, remote village in South Sudan with no electricity, no running water, and no school. The nearest classroom was hours of walking away, through open land and under the unforgiving sun. But even as a child, I felt a pull toward something beyond the horizon. My mother and grandmother instilled in me the belief that education was the path — even when that path seemed impossibly long.
A Night of Fire
When I was six years old, a communal war erupted. In the middle of the night, our village was attacked. I remember the sounds — gunfire, screaming, the rush of people fleeing into the darkness. In one night, everything I knew was shattered. My family scattered. That night burned into my memory a truth I carry to this day: safety and stability are not guarantees — they are privileges that must be built and protected.
A New Beginning
My aunt took me across the border to Uganda, where I would have my first real chance at an education. Everything was foreign — the language, the culture, the classroom. I didn't speak English. I didn't know anyone. But I learned. I adapted. I discovered that a school could be more than a building — it could be a lifeline. In Uganda, for the first time, I saw what education could make possible.
Pulled Back
When civil war broke out in South Sudan in 2013, the economic shockwaves reached my family in Uganda. They could no longer afford to keep me there. I was pulled back — back to the village, back to a place with no schools, no opportunities, no clear future. It felt like the door that had briefly opened for me had slammed shut. For years, I lived in that uncertainty, holding onto the belief that my story wasn't over.
The Escape
During the COVID pandemic in 2020, I made a decision that would change my life. I left my village and made my way to Juba, the capital city — alone, with almost nothing. It was a leap of faith, driven by the desperate conviction that there had to be more. In Juba, I found Darling Wisdom Academy, a school that took me in and gave me the chance I had been waiting for.
Against All Odds
At Darling Wisdom Academy, I threw myself into my studies with everything I had. I wasn't just learning for myself — I was learning for my village, for every child still walking hours to reach a classroom that might not even be there. When the national exam results came, I had placed 3rd in all of South Sudan. A kid from a village with no school had become one of the best students in the entire country.
The Longest Shot
I spent two gap years navigating the unfamiliar world of U.S. college applications — teaching myself the process, writing essays, and applying to universities I had only read about. When the acceptances came from Stanford and Columbia, I sat in disbelief. I chose Stanford. The boy who once walked hours to school would now walk through the gates of one of the world's greatest universities.
The Promise
But Stanford was never the ending — it was the beginning of a larger mission. I carry Akeer Adoor with me every day. The Akeer Foundation was born from a promise I made to myself and to my village: that I would come back, not just with a degree, but with a school. Not one school — but eventually sixty-four. One for each of the sixty-four tribes of South Sudan. Because every child deserves what I had to fight for: a chance to learn.
"I once walked hours just to sit in a classroom. Now I'm building one so no child in my village ever has to."