On 29 September last year, Fiona Namusoke received a text message from her youngest son, Ashraf Habimana, asking her to pick him up from college.

Minutes later, she got a call to say that Ashraf had been stabbed.

The 16-year-old had been with a group of friends when they were attacked over a grudge that Ashraf had no part of.

As twin brothers are sentenced over his killing, Ashraf’s mother reflects in her own words on the lost dreams of a much-loved boy who “made his mark”.

Ashraf was always smiling.

He brought so much joy. I remember when we were washing the car, how he’d spray me with the water and we’d end up laughing. He used to chase me around the house to give me a kiss.

I wish I’d let him do it more.

My son worked hard at school. He wanted to go into cyber security.

He said ‘mum, all of these people are getting scammed and I want to stop it’. He loved computing.

He loved his friends and his family. He used to tell me his secrets, I knew his girlfriends. We were very close.

On the day he died, Ashraf sent me a text after school saying ‘mum can you come and pick me up now?’

I told him I’d be there soon, but just seven minutes later someone called me and said Ashraf had been stabbed.

I couldn’t believe it.

We rushed to the scene and there were ambulances and police cars everywhere. I got out of the car as the ambulance was leaving for the hospital so I couldn’t see him.

I thought to myself ‘God help me find my son alive’.

I was in the hospital waiting room with other parents – because that day another boy was stabbed too – and they called my name.

They took me into a room and told me Ashraf didn’t make it.

My baby didn’t make it.

He was my everything. My hope for the future. His children would have been my grandchildren.

My future was erased. It was so painful I fainted. I’d only taken my son to school that morning. How could this happen?

I couldn’t feel my stomach. I was a shell. I cried so much. I couldn’t eat or sleep. It felt like I was in a dream.

I’ve had to look at his empty room expecting him to come out and joke with me.

His brother, who has severe autism, misses him. Even though he’s non-verbal, he’s looking everywhere for Ashraf in the house and can’t find him.

You can’t explain – I say ‘your brother’s gone to heaven’. I don’t know if he understands it.

I know when a black child is stabbed people think ‘oh, it must be drugs or a gang’. It’s been painful because Ashraf was never in a gang. I always dropped him off at places and picked him up. He was never out doing drugs or anything.

He didn’t know what was going on. He was so innocent.

He was just chatting with his mates after school. He had his books and in fact the knife went through one of his books.

I feel like I got some justice for Ashraf with the sentence.

It was difficult to look at my son’s killers in court but I don’t want to forget their faces.

Time heals, and with time maybe I can forgive them, but right now I just have too much pain to think about forgiveness. It’s for the future.

Me and my friends have launched a foundation in Ashraf’s name to empower young children not to be involved in violence.

We want to give them activities to be involved in that stops them roaming – football, basketball, or something after school.

We want to spread the word about knife crime. We want to support other children to stop them making the wrong decision. We want to save a child.

I didn’t know so many people cared so much about Ashraf. There’s a bench on Nunnery Lane where Ashraf died. It was put up by his friend’s dad.

It’s comforting to see people do things for him even though he’s gone.

He made a mark on people. I think I did something right there with him – I’m proud of who he was.

When I think of him, I imagine him in the heavens, smiling.”

As told to Janine Machin

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