My Story

A Corner. A Marker. A Mission.

After I lost my father, I was just a little girl with a broken heart—and a million questions.

Why wasn’t he coming back? Why did everything around us fall apart?

We moved from safety into a shantytown, and grief became my new companion.
I was quiet, confused, and trying to make sense of a world that no longer felt like mine.
But deep within me stirred something even louder than the pain:
a longing to bring order, safety, and dignity into chaos.

At just five years old, I began helping my mother sell vegetables to support our family.
Each morning, I’d wait by her market stand, watching children just like me—
running wild in the streets, crying, unsafe, unseen.

And something inside me said, “No more.”

One morning, I picked up a marker…
and I drew a square on the ground beside my mother’s corner shop.

When she arrived, I looked up and said,

“Omie… this will be our space. For the children. For play. For safety. For learning.”

She hesitated—worried about food, space, and responsibility.
But I had a plan. And more than that—I had a vision.
Because in my six-year-old heart, I wasn’t just making room.
I was creating a sanctuary.

That dusty square became my first act of leadership.
My first classroom.
My first movement.

And it planted the seed of what I do today—
helping people reclaim their power, honor their dignity, and rise from within to create lives of purpose and impact.

💫 This was never just a corner.
It was a calling.