In 2017, Hussama Ayebazibwe was just trying to survive.
A SIM card hawker for Airtel, struggling to make ends meet, he lived hand to mouth with his young family in Kitala, along Entebbe road. That year, his wife was pregnant with their second child, a pregnancy that would test his faith, his courage, and ultimately restore his belief in humanity.
One evening, he returned home to find his wife in severe labour. The situation was critical. They had no money for an ambulance, or Special Hire Vehicle. Desperate, Ayebazibwe borrowed a boda boda just to get them closer to help. They stopped at Garuga Junction near Stabex Fuel Station, hoping to find a vehicle willing to assist. None came. With time slipping away, they abandoned the motorcycle because her condition made it impossible and instead walked on toward Coin Supermarket in Kitala.
What followed was rejection
Car after car passed them by. Friends who owned vehicles declined. Some feared responsibility; others feared the risk. Ayebazibwe watched helplessly as his wife’s pain intensified.
“I realised that day,” he recalls quietly, “how alone you can be.”
With no option left, he walked toward the supermarket entrance, hoping someone would listen. As a man exited with his wife after shopping, Ayebazibwe felt compelled to approach him.
“I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know his position. I only knew this was my last hope.”
The man listened. He looked at Ayebazibwe’s wife, bent over in pain, barely able to stand. Without hesitation, he agreed.
That stranger was Major Chris Magezi, (now Col and Acting Director Defence Public Information) then a Public Relations Officer of the Special Forces Command (SFC), driving a government Pajero.
As the vehicle sped toward the hospital, Ayebazibwe’s wife went into advanced labour. The pain became unbearable. He pleaded with her to hold on, afraid of what might happen in another man’s car.
But Major Magezi remained calm, only driving faster to get to the hospital on time.
Minutes later, before they could reach Entebbe Grade B hospital, the baby, Sumayya Magezi, was born on 15th September 2017, inside the moving vehicle.
There was shock. Fear. Silence.
But there was also life.
Major Magezi did not stop the car. He drove straight to the hospital, where doctors rushed out, cut the umbilical cord inside the vehicle, and saved both mother and child.
What followed left Ayebazibwe deeply humbled.
Major Magezi did not complain about the car. He did not ask for compensation. Instead, he handed over the baby safely, gave the family the groceries he had bought, and even offered them money to support.
“That day,” Ayebazibwe says, “I met an angel.”
The story made national headlines. Ugandans praised the officer’s humanity, calling for his promotion. For Ayebazibwe’s family, gratitude turned into prayer.
In accordance with Islamic tradition, they named the baby Sumayya Magezi: Sumayya, after the first female martyr in Islam, symbolising resilience and faith; Magezi, in honour of the man whose kindness gave her life.
“In Islam, we call it Sadaqatul Jariyah a continuing blessing,” Ayebazibwe explains. “Every time we call her name, he is blessed.”
Years have passed
Ayebazibwe’s life changed. From hawking SIM cards, he rose through the ranks to become a Distribution Manager at Airtel. His family grew. His faith deepened.
Major Magezi continued to check on the child, monthly, yearly, never forgetting the family he once helped on the roadside.
When news came that Major Magezi had been promoted, Ayebazibwe’s family celebrated quietly.
“That was our prayer answered,” he says.
Though they had not physically met again, their bond remained unbroken, sealed by courage, compassion, and a child born between fear and hope.
Today, eight years later, Sumayya is healthy and in school. She knows her story. She knows why she carries that name.
And somewhere, every time her name is spoken, a prayer follows, for the man who stopped, when everyone else drove on.
For the Uganda Peoples’ Defence Forces (UPDF), Col Magezi’s story underscores the force’s people-centred philosophy. His action reflects the values of the UPDF such as discipline, and humanity beyond the uniform.
