From Desperation to Destiny: How a UPDF Officer’s Act of Kindness on Entebbe Road Brought New Life and a Lasting Bond
Eight years on, the story of Sumayya Magezi, born in a moving Pajero, continues to inspire, highlighting humanity beyond the uniform.
A story that captured the nation’s heart in 2017 continues to resonate as a powerful testament to unexpected kindness and enduring gratitude. It is the story of Hussama Ayebazibwe, then a struggling SIM card hawker, and Major Chris Magezi, a UPDF officer, whose chance encounter on a desperate night forged a lifelong bond sealed by the birth of a child.
In 2017, Ayebazibwe’s world was one of survival. Living hand-to-mouth with his young family, a crisis erupted when his wife went into severe labour at their home in Kitala. With no funds for an ambulance, Ayebazibwe’s frantic efforts to get help were met with repeated rejection. After a failed attempt on a borrowed boda boda, the couple walked, hoping for a Samaritan.
“Car after car passed us by. Friends declined. I realised that day how alone you can be,” Ayebazibwe recalls, describing the agonising moments as his wife’s pain intensified.
In a final act of desperation, he approached a stranger exiting a supermarket. That stranger was then-Major Chris Magezi, the Public Relations Officer of the Special Forces Command, driving a government vehicle. Without a second thought, Magezi agreed to help.
What followed was a race against time. En route to Entebbe Grade B hospital, inside the moving Pajero, Ayebazibwe’s wife gave birth. “There was shock. Fear. Silence. But there was also life,” Ayebazibwe narrates. Magezi drove straight to the hospital, where medical staff rushed out to cut the umbilical cord and save mother and child.
The officer’s compassion did not end at the hospital gates. He made no complaint about the state of his vehicle, asked for no compensation, and instead handed over his own groceries and offered financial support to the new family.
“That day, I met an angel,” Ayebazibwe says.
Touched by this profound act, the family, in accordance with Islamic tradition, named their daughter Sumayya Magezi: ‘Sumayya’ after the first female martyr in Islam, symbolising resilience; and ‘Magezi’ in eternal honour of the man who gave her life.
“In Islam, we call it Sadaqatul Jariyah—a continuing blessing. Every time we call her name, he is blessed,” Ayebazibwe explains.
The story, which made national headlines, sparked public admiration and calls for the officer’s promotion—a prayer the Ayebazibwe family shared. Years later, they quietly celebrated news of Magezi’s rise to Colonel and Acting Director of Defence Public Information.
“That was our prayer answered,” Ayebazibwe states.
Life has transformed for both families. Ayebazibwe rose from hawking SIM cards to becoming a Distribution Manager at Airtel. Colonel Magezi maintained a connection, checking on Sumayya’s progress monthly and yearly. Though they have not met again physically, the bond remains unbroken.
Now eight years old, Sumayya is healthy and in school. She knows the story of her dramatic entry into the world and the significance of her name.
For the Uganda Peoples’ Defence Forces, Colonel Magezi’s actions remain a cornerstone example of its people-centred philosophy. His conduct that night is cited as reflecting the core UPDF values of discipline and humanity that extend far beyond the uniform.
Today, every time the name Sumayya Magezi is spoken, it carries with it a story of crisis and compassion, and a silent prayer for the man who stopped when everyone else drove on.
About The Author
