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Urgent Call For Support: The Crisis In Kakuma Refugee Camp
Urgent Call for Support: The Crisis in kakuma Refugee Camp
As an activist deeply committed to advocating for the rights and dignity of the displaced, as an activist I cannot stay silent about the worsening conditions in kakuma refugee camp. While some may try to mask the reality, the truth is far from comfortable.
Many of our brothers and sisters are facing severe shortages of basic necessities. The lack of food has reached critical levels, with families struggling to find even one meal a day. Women and girls, in particular, are suffering due to a shortage of sanitary pads, a matter that should never be overlooked.
These issues are not just inconveniences they are violations of basic human rights. We cannot allow this suffering to continue unnoticed. It is our duty to bring attention to this urgent crisis and appeal to donors and international organizations for immediate support
#Support Kakuma camp #HumanRights #CallForDonors.
You can reach out to us through :

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More Posts from Trans01kakuma
My name is Tarneem Sami, and I live in the Shuja'iyya neighborhood of Gaza 🇵🇸 with my three children. I lost my husband, Ahmed, while he was trying to get supplies for us. We live in constant fear and face severe shortages of food and medicine.
I need your help to save my children from hunger and disease. Every donation, no matter how small, can make a significant difference in our lives. If you cannot donate, please share my message to reach those who can help us.
Thank you for your support and generosity 🇵🇸.
Hi Tarneem Sami it's my pleasure to hear from you though am sorry for the situation taking place in Gaza. I wish I would be of help but also the people am speaking for are going through a very terrible situation comprised of torture, raping of lesbians, persecution, famine and discrimination of all kinds that needs a lot of supportsupport as seen below in the pictures. Anyone with help you can reachout to us on:





Dear comrades and siblings, we are urgently calling for medical and sustainable support for displaced transgender refugees in kenya, this project seeks to uplift the traumatized individuals and bring them to safety.
For any kind of support reach out to us on our fundraiser below:

Your support will mean world to us, thank you.
Life of the queers in kakuma refugee camp is still in an eminent danger. Whenever we stand to fight for our rights and freedom, our masters nick name us "crime babies"
Intimidation from our masters is still on going. All lives matter when the lives of queers are respected.🌈🌈🌈
Anyone with help you can reach out to us through:

We shed tears always seeing
our lives in eminent danger
Scarcity of water is so high in the camp. we have resorted to fetching stagnant water in holes associated with H20 bone diseases and I therefore call upon the generous people to come out and support us. Dear our comrades and siblings it's high time to stand up and support queer souls languishing in misery in kakuma refugee camp in Kenya. SHARE AND DONATE through :https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/queer-kakuma
From Hidden to Heard: My Coming Out Story and What Followed
Growing up in a conservative Catholic family in Uganda, my childhood was steeped in religious teachings and traditional values. From a young age, I was taught to adhere to the doctrines of the Church, which included a strict stance against homosexuality. The sermons I heard every Sunday were filled with fire and brimstone, painting a picture of LGBTQI+ individuals as sinners destined for eternal damnation. These messages were reinforced at home, where any deviation from the norm was met with harsh criticism and condemnation.
As a child, I didn't fully understand my feelings. I just knew that I was different. I felt an attraction to other boys, but I quickly learned to suppress these feelings. The fear of rejection and the desire to fit in were powerful motivators. I became adept at hiding my true self, putting on a mask of conformity to avoid the scorn and ridicule that I knew would come if my secret were discovered.
My teenage years were a tumultuous time. The pressure to conform to societal expectations was immense, and I struggled with feelings of guilt and shame. I prayed fervently for God to change me, to make me "normal." But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't change who I was. The internal conflict was exhausting, and I often felt like I was living a double life.
In an attempt to find solace and acceptance, I joined the Brothers of St. Charles Lwanga, a religious congregation known for its strict adherence to Catholic teachings. I hoped that by immersing myself in this community, I could find a sense of belonging and perhaps even change my orientation. But the reality was far different from what I had imagined.
The environment within the congregation was stifling. The same messages of hate and intolerance that I had heard growing up were even more pronounced here. The scriptures were weaponized to justify discrimination and bigotry, and any deviation from the norm was harshly punished. I felt like I was suffocating, trapped in a place that was supposed to be a sanctuary but was instead a prison.
The turning point came during a particularly vitriolic sermon. The priest described LGBTQI+ individuals as "tools of the devil," "mentally unstable," and "agents of darkness." As I sat in the pew, listening to these hateful words, something inside me snapped. I realized that I couldn't continue living a lie. I couldn't keep pretending to be someone I wasn't. I had to break free from the chains of misinformation and hate that had bound me for so long.
Leaving the formation house was one of the hardest decisions I ever made. I knew that by doing so, I was stepping into the unknown. I had no idea what the future held, but I knew that I couldn't continue living a lie. I had to be true to myself, no matter the cost.
Coming out to my family was a daunting task. I knew that their reaction would be harsh, but I also knew that I couldn't continue living in the shadows. When I finally mustered the courage to tell them, their reaction was even worse than I had anticipated. They accused me of submitting to "underground powers" and selling my soul for quick wealth, fame, and influence. They believed that I had given in to "dark powers" and was now a pawn in their game of manipulation.
The accusations didn't stop there. They started spreading rumors that I had joined the Illuminati and was now recruiting others into this secret society. This caused fear and suspicion among my siblings, who began to distance themselves from me. The most painful accusation was that I had traded my fertility for success. "Gays can't have children," they said, "because you've given your sperm to the underground powers."
Lately am now a spokesperson for the queer people living in block 6 of kakuma refugee camp in kenya. I do call for support through our fundraiser below:

