My sister always called me big foot to tease me about my shoe size. I always wore the most extended shoes in the class which left a lot of space between my toes and the shoes. My mother, who bought the shoes, always said, “She will grow in them.” This was an excuse to cut the financial costs of buying me a new pair of shoes each new academic year.
Over the years, I fell in love with the name big foot which some of my friends had also adopted. I used it as an alias but everyone who knew me, knew that I wore a size 11 men shoe. I was blessed to come to the USA in 2023 on a sports scholarship to St. Louis. I had come on a basketball scholarship but I played soccer as well. I was immediately welcomed onto the soccer team after my first training session with the team.
A couple of weeks later as we drew closer to a tournament, the coach asked, “Do you have a pair of soccer boots?” I was playing in a tennis shoe. I didn’t have a pair of boots since my primary game for college was basketball. The question reminded me of who I am. Growing up in the countryside of Uganda, I used to play soccer barefoot on the streets. My parents couldn’t afford to buy me a pair of boots. I grew popular in soccer in the region competing at the district level games barefooted. However, the higher I went into competition hierarchies like inter district games, there were some rules in play, which demanded all athletes to wear a pair of shoes while playing.
I recall the first game where I tried to play in boots. I felt like I wasn’t having much impact on the team because I wasn’t used to playing wearing shoes. I was uncomfortable. During the game, an opponent was tackled and she lay down on the ground waiting for medical attention. I quickly rushed to the sideline and took off the boots. An altercation immediately occurred between the officials and my coach, over breaching of rules. I wasn’t alone in this boat of playing barefooted.
Most of the kids were also from families which didn’t afford sports shoes. In fact some didn’t even afford school shoes and day to day footwear. Our soccer was named kagele to mean feet. Fast forward I was blessed to land an admission to a top catholic school in the country. It was filled with kids from rich families. The school’s tradition was all about upbringing holistic ladies in all fields. I was challenged when most of the girls wore shoes during game time. I also started
to play basketball since the soccer team barely received any attention from the administration.
The coach was strict on wearing the proper attire for the sport with shoes as his main focus. He couldn’t stand anyone playing barefooted. His concern was the injuries which came with lacking the right attire. He also dismissed any attempts to wear non-sports-like shoes, calling them ballerina shoes.
Armed with UGx 30,000 ($7.95), I joined the school’s sweet “mafia” selling group. I would use profits from this business to buy a pair of shoes. I was tired of playing in shoes with holes and the fear of injuries from our tarmacked basketball courts. I pushed polythene papers underneath the shoe carpet to the tip of my shoes because my big foot tore the top. I was also tired of borrowing shoes and most times it was hard to find someone with my shoe size. The trick was to borrow and remove the carpet while using the shoes and then replace the carpet before returning them. I started selling sweets in school, and every profit made was saved. Each packet of sweets cost between $2 – $3, and would bring profit of roughly $.15. Slowly, I became a ‘successfully established business’ owner in high school.
As soon as the holidays started, I went to the central market in Kabale where I had seen second-hand shoes on sale. I excitedly bought a black and white pair of shoes. Little did I know I bought a typical ‘China made for Africa’ type of shoe whose sole departed to rest in pieces after barely weeks of running on our rough tarmac courts. Back at school, the sweets business was growing and every student knew I was the contact person for all their sweets. I had also diversified into selling street chicken from Namawojjolo. I also had a phone at school illegally and would charge a competitive rate compared to the school’s rates for my classmates to talk to their families.
Once again, I went out shopping and came across a heavy shoe which looked like a basketball shoe.

    “This is the shoe,” I sighed in relief.
    “Those are American Football shoes,” the coach commented the first time he saw me wearing them.

I nearly crashed when he said that. I had just spent my hard-earned money on those shoes. Broke, and devastated, I returned to borrowing shoes once again. It is funny how I rose through leadership ranks as a team captain, sports minister, house captain, and represented the school at regional and national level on borrowed shoes. One of my high school pictures I love looking at has an impression of me with the so-called “dancing shoes.” It reminds me a lot of how far I have come. My first serious injury was because I was playing barefoot. I spent six months unable to sit upright and was in and out at Kibuli Hospital to run my body through scans and machines.
I was blessed to travel around Uganda with a sports-focused organization, Score Beyond Leadership Organization. I witnessed passionate young girls and boys play barefoot on these trips like me. They are happy, just like I was! Little did I know the damage I was causing to my feet and the effect it would have on me while transitioning to organized sports.
On the 10th of March 2023, after a morning basketball team practice, the Coach handed me a pair of boxed shoes! I felt a lot of emotions running through me. Who was I to finally get to wear a first-hand boxed shoe?
On this ground, I invite you to support the Big Foot Athletes sports shoe drive for young, ambitious athletes in Uganda. There is a kid somewhere in Gulu who is excited to go play but has no shoes. A student in Kamwokya can’t join a sport because he lacks shoes.
We are open to donations in cash and in kind. It can be a trainer, a soccer boot, a basketball shoe, a tennis shoe (okay, we don’t have softball in Uganda), or any shoe that will enable an ambitious child to play without worrying about injuries, cuts, or financial implication of buying a sports shoe.
Thank you for your support.