As a child, my late father, with a picture of his wounded and swollen, eyes-shut face in his hand, would share how he, by the mercy and grace of Almighty God, had repeatedly and narrowly escaped death by playing dead after being attacked by rebel soldiers. Providentially, he would migrate his family out of the area, and eventually out of the continent.

If you had seen me thirty years ago, you would have thought of me as the perfect child match for your typical third-world charity poster. My hair was thin and red for lack of nutrition. I had a huge head, balloon belly, and toothpick limbs. I cried a lot as a child. Shortly after moving to The States, I was treated for parasites, lice, a dislocated shoulder bone, and would learn that I had inherited a blood disorder (Sickle Cell Anemia) that would leave me battling with chronic pain for the rest of my life.

As all good parents do, anytime I misbehaved, my father would sit me down and go over the details about how deathly sick I was and his having to arrange underground safe houses en route to Kenya until they were finally able to smuggle me through the border into his arms. As ashamed as I am to admit this, I had very little to no appreciation for his effort and took it for granted—Doesn’t everybody want to move here… what’s the big deal?—I would think to myself.

I write this today with a much better understanding of what the big deal is. The big deal is that for around $2,000 many can and do board planes in the States and within 24 hours, find themselves thousands of miles away lounging under an umbrella with the ultimate luxury vacation plan of doing nothing and feeling accomplished. Meanwhile, many men, women, and children within that same 24 hour period could potentially and do pass away of a fever that may give way if only they had access to an ibuprofen—something that costs merely 25 cents per pill. Assuming each of these ill-fated citizens of circumstance need just four tablets before witnessing a sure reversal of symptoms, imagine how many people one might save by simply foregoing one dream vacation…thousands. The simplest things literally make a world of a difference. My life, as I know it, would have been entirely different had I remained in Uganda… realistically, I would not even be alive to share this testimony that you are now reading. Daddy, it took a lot of discomfort, battling stereotypes, and overcoming shame and self-loathing, but I get it now. 

Thou Art the Christ is a Christian organization that is especially dear to my heart because it is spearheaded by my very own cousin, Pastor Geoffrey Okot, who himself survived rebel abduction three times and later became a Student Pastor in 2014. With God’s guidance, Okot now leads his own congregation, is president of the Young Farmers Federation of Uganda, and is a proactive member within his community.

This December 2020
*, alongside Thou Art the Christ, His Daughters’ Meekness is embarking on a major month-long missionary endeavor entitled A Witness Unto Acholiland 2020. Acholiland refers to an area in Northern Uganda populated by the Acholi people.  There are about a million and a half Acholi living in Northern Uganda and South Sudan. With more than 80% of Uganda’s population still living in poverty (30% under extreme poverty), Acholiland has stood out as the poorest sub-region for over three decades. The many years of psychological trauma and stigmas related to the brutal acts of mutilation, torture, sexual slavery, abduction, and killings have left many unable to cope with life. Something must give. Despite government and other development partners’ attempt(s) of rehabilitation, there remains a spiritual wound that can only be mended through the efforts of the Church. By way of teaching, counseling, prayer, and deliverance ministries, A Witness Unto Acholiland will therefore initiate this ongoing process to restore the thriving traditional communities once prevalent in this sub-region.

The needs of the people in Acholiland are many and varied.  Clean drinking water is scarce.  Medications are in short supply.  There is a need for a permanent site for physical connection and spiritual health.  Kicking off with a full week of open-air crusade, followed by three weeks of nightly presentations, counseling, entrepreneurial training, and church mapping, we will also be embarking on the below projects:

In the Mission Field...Acholiland

We present to you a wonderful opportunity to be a blessing to a ministry located in my hometown of Gulu--a city located in the Northern Region of Uganda, just north of the equator.  Gulu is about 330 miles north of Kampala, the countries capital, and has a population of around 150,000. This area of Africa has been the location of significant turmoil over the last fifty years.  For your thoughtful consideration, I present you an opportunity to support a mission trip to Gulu, which will provide a broad range of spiritual and physical support to the people in the area. This mission is supported by the organizations Thou Art the Christ and His Daughters’ Meekness and is called A Witness Unto Acholiland 2020.  

After detailing and reviewing the operational and ministerial expenses it will take to successfully carryout this endeavor, we have projected the total cost at $60,000. A breakdown of this budget is included here.

We are asking for your help. 

We are kindly asking that you prayerfully consider donating your finances towards this mission effort.  Amidst global crises like viral pandemics and social unrest, we have an opportunity to show the world that God is still on the throne and rules over the affairs of men. Let us stretch our faith, lift our voices in prayer and supplication, and put our hands to the plow to the glory of His name. 

May our Heavenly Father return to you in love, joy, peace, grace, mercy and favor, that which you invest in his work through your monetary gifts to this mission.

Maranatha! (Come, Lord!)




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 My name is Atim p’Oyat, and I am the Co-Founder of His Daughters' Meekness. I was born in Kampala, Uganda during the Uganda Bush War (1980 through 1986). As you can imagine this war, along with the wars launched before and after, has left most of Northern Uganda stricken with immense poverty, sickness, severe psychological instability, and sadly, vulnerable to exploitations from within and without. My name, pronounced ah-teem, actually means born in a foreign land or by the bushel because I happened to be born hundreds of miles away from my tribal district of Gulu—a town most notably brought to international attention in 2006 by the Invisible Children documentary which highlighted the Lord’s Resistance Army’s abduction of children.