How a Simple “Yes” Led Me 9,000 miles from home
- Aug 6
- 7 min read
If you handed me a map of Africa and asked me to point to Uganda six years ago I wouldn't have had an answer for you. If you'd told me I'd call that place home I would have laughed and forgotten all about our conversation. My name is Katelyn and this is the story of my life living in Eastern Africa.
The Cringeworthy Beginning of Something Life-Changing
When I was in eighth grade, I sent an email that makes me cringe to this day. It was filled with exclamation points, far too many emojis, and not one but five separate follow-up messages that absolutely could have been combined into one. I was thirteen years old, overly enthusiastic, and convinced I had just found the perfect organization to support elephants.
The nonprofit was called Elephante Commons.
It turns out, they had nothing to do with elephants.
Instead, they were a community-based organization located nearly 9,000 miles away in Gulu, Uganda. But at the time, none of that mattered to me. I had stumbled across their website while searching for a cause to support for my school’s eighth grade Action Project, and I was determined to help in any way I could.
When a Project Became a Promise
I attended a small environmental science middle school in
Portland, Oregon - just 180 students total. Because it was so small, our community was incredibly close. One of the biggest milestones of our final year was the Action Project: a nine-month commitment to choosing a cause, supporting it, and presenting how we made a difference.
I have always loved helping others. As a little girl, I was always looking for opportunities to volunteer and set personal challenges for myself - clean this corner in twenty minutes, make one hundred welcome boxes for children in foster care, package five hundred meals at the food bank. I chased the satisfaction of a job well done. I held myself to impossibly high standards and rarely allowed myself to fall short. My parents, Mark and Erin, were the steady voices reminding me that trying my best was enough - even when I felt like it wasn’t.
So when I began preparing for my Action Project, I knew I wanted to support a nonprofit. At first, I was leaning toward an animal-based cause. That’s how Elephante Commons caught my eye. I saw the name and thought, This is awesome - they help elephants! I clicked the link immediately.
Within minutes, I realized elephants weren’t part of their mission at all. Instead, the organization focused on community development initiatives in Uganda. They worked alongside local leaders to support their dreams and create sustainable change.
The Email That Crossed an Ocean
Embarrassingly confident, I emailed the founder, Brit Neely. Looking back, I can only imagine what she thought when she opened an inbox full of hyperactive middle school enthusiasm. But despite my excessive punctuation and scattered messages, she responded with kindness.
(Brit here; I've been impressed with her from day one!)
She explained that the community needed games, books, and puzzles - items that could help bring people together. I eagerly offered to collect donations. Then I asked if there was a larger fundraiser I could organize.
She mentioned that they hoped to build a public library.
It would cost $14,000.
At thirteen years old, fourteen thousand dollars felt like an impossible number. It was overwhelming, intimidating - and exactly the kind of challenge I felt compelled to take on. I told her I would try my best.
I had no idea that small, awkward email exchange would become the first thread in a story that would eventually lead me all the way to Uganda - and quietly begin unraveling the perfectly structured life plan I once thought I needed to follow.
Turning Determination Into Dollars
Over the school year, I spent hundreds of hours collecting books, games, and puzzles and raising money for the library in every way I could think of. I designed shirts with their logo, hosted a garage sale, planned a fundraiser dinner party, and visited local businesses to ask for support. By the end of eighth grade, I had raised $5,000. I was proud of the progress - but not satisfied. It didn’t end there.
I continued fundraising for another six months. Partway through my freshman year, I hosted a fundraiser event at my house. That was the night everything changed. I counted the money, walked out to announce the total, and will never forget the moment the calculator displayed the final number. I hadn’t just met my goal - I had exceeded it. I had raised nearly $20,000.
Surrounded by my closest friends, family, Brit, and even strangers, I tried to take it all in. I felt overwhelming gratitude for my community - for encouraging me, believing in me, and stepping up to support something bigger than all of us.
That very night, I sat down with the mentors who had guided me along the way, and we began planning my first trip to Uganda.
The Beginning of My Second Home
The following year, we landed in East Africa. I spent over a week at Elephante - meeting the team, painting the library, and preparing it for opening. I left before it ever opened and already wanted to come back. Quietly, in the back of my mind, I dreamed of returning for longer. That’s when I first talked to Brit about the possibility of interning.
At first, it was just a lighthearted idea. But as the years passed, it became more concrete. Eventually, the tickets were bought, and the plans were final.
I was moving to Uganda for six months - to volunteer and to experience living on my own for the first time.
As the departure date approached, doubt crept in. I didn’t know anyone doing something similar. I was scared to go alone. I worried about falling behind in school and felt like I was being left behind. I would have to manage everything myself and be completely independent.
Everyone I told said the same thing: “Six months will fly by - you’ll have so much fun!” I smiled and agreed. But inside, I kept thinking, six months is too long. I’m going to be lonely. I’m going to be sad. I was so concerned about everything that could go bad that I didn't take the time to think about the incredible blessing it would be.
The closer October 18th got, the more afraid I became.
Fifty Hours to a New Life
Driving to the PDX airport was one of the hardest moments of my life. The car was packed with my bags, my family, and my boyfriend. Everyone sat in complete silence and I watched the minutes ticked away as we approached. A drive that had always felt long suddenly passed far too quickly.
We pulled up to departures, and tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. It hit me - this was it. The last time I would see them for six long months. I stood there thinking of any excuse to prolong my time with them but a voice in my head whispered, "you're ready". I hugged everyone goodbye and told them I loved them. It took all the strength I had left in me to walk away without looking back. Just like that, I was alone.
I stumbled through the newly renovated airport - standing in the wrong lines, avoiding eye contact, smiling through tears as I made my way through TSA. I just keep telling myself make it to next gate and eventually you'll make it.
Over the next fifty hours, I traveled from one side of the globe to the other - planes, trains, cars. Two days later, I landed in Uganda and drove north to Gulu, the town I would call home for the next six months.
At 2:30 a.m., I stepped into my tiny house, collapsed onto my bed, and sobbed.
Before falling asleep, I read dozens of letters from friends and family - each one reminding me why I was there.
Twelve hours later, I woke to someone calling my name. My alarm had been silently going off for five hours (thanks, Apple), and I wandered outside to find Brit and her daughters waiting for me. That first week was a blur. I struggled to adjust to a new everything. Nothing in my life felt the same, and I learned to take it one day at a time.
Settling Into the Unknown
It took about a month to truly settle in. But little by little, I grew more confident. I found a rhythm. I began slowing down and noticing the simple, beautiful things Gulu had to offer. I stepped into my intern role - managing Elephante’s social media, supporting Brit with projects, and helping in the restaurant.
I saw the library completed and filled to the brim with books. I saw a tree I had planted from a seedling four years earlier now towering above me - growing quietly all that time, just as I had been.
I learned how to be alone. I learned how to say yes to solo adventures. For someone who once would never have considered going on a safari trip with a stranger, that was a big step. Saying yes to that experience opened the door to so many others.
Not everything was easy. The heat and bugs were an adjustment. Power outages, new languages, unfamiliar currency, different foods, and commuting everywhere on mini motorcycle taxis - it was all challenging at first.
But now, looking back, I am incredibly proud of myself.
I’ve gained wisdom from my friends here. I’ve tried new foods and discovered a deep love for Ugandan mangoes. While my friends at home studied for finals, I explored a new country. Life here has been peaceful in unexpected ways. I’ve learned to move at my own pace and appreciate the small, quiet moments.
Not many people get to experience something like this. It was hard in the beginning - but it has been more than worth it.
The Audacity to Try
Perspective changes everything. Just because no one else is doing something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Growth rarely looks conventional while it’s happening.
If I had chosen the safe route - if I had followed the crowd - I would have missed out on countless opportunities, relationships, and lessons that have shaped who I am today.
Sometimes I think about the thirteen-year-old girl who sent an email filled with exclamation points and far too many emojis to a nonprofit she barely understood. She had no strategy, no experience, and absolutely no idea what she was getting herself into. But she had heart. She had curiosity. She had the audacity to try.
She couldn’t have imagined airports and tearful goodbyes, fifty-hour travel days, power outages, or learning to navigate life on her own in Uganda. She just wanted to help.
And in trying to change something small in the world, she ended up changing herself.
I’m grateful she pressed send.
Elephante Commons changed the trajectory of my life. If you feel inspired by their work, I encourage you to visit their website and follow along on social media to see the impact they’re making. You never know how one small connection might grow.
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