She came to Uganda for a pastors’ conference. Then Dr Michelle Corral took her ministry into Kampala’s slums and set her sights on Bidi Bidi, where shrinking humanitarian funding is putting pressure on refugee health services.
In Bidi Bidi Refugee Settlement, roughly one in 10 children under five is acutely malnourished. Malaria still accounts for the majority of outpatient visits at the settlement’s clinics. And since March 2025, when the United States terminated most USAID contracts, the health system has lost 250 workers and watched antimalarial medicines pile up in warehouses, unable to reach health facilities.
Into this landscape steps Dr Mitchell Corral, an American televangelist, whose ministry is trying to bridge the gap between pulpit and clinic. Corral has spent nearly five decades building a ministry centered on pastor training and cross-border leadership, with a network that spans seven East African countries and claims to have equipped more than 10,800 pastors. Her arrival in Uganda was not a spontaneous detour; it was part of a scheduled conference circuit that has brought her to the region repeatedly. But her decision to move from conference halls to informal settlements represents a shift in how her ministry operates on the ground.
Dr Corral arrived in Uganda last week for the third East Africa Pastors’ Fire Anointing Conference at Nsambya Sharing Hall, an event that drew church leaders from across the region. Vice President Jessica Alupo spoke on behalf of President Yoweri Museveni, noting that private initiatives which extend practical support to disadvantaged communities help build resilience. Museveni, for his part, challenged the church to use its platforms to lift believers out of poverty. But for Corral, the real work began after the conference ended.
From sermons to slums
Last weekend, Corral led a team of pastors into Katanga, one of Kampala’s most crowded informal settlements. They distributed household items, clothes, shoes, and children’s toys. They also served meals to more than 5,000 residents. For families in Katanga, where daily survival often means navigating open sewers, erratic work, and no formal health access, the visit offered something rare: a full stomach and a moment of relief.
Katanga sits on a wetland between Kampala’s industrial zone and the wealthier neighborhoods of Kololo and Nakasero. An estimated 20,000 people live in cramped, makeshift structures with no running water, no waste collection, and no permanent health clinic. Residents who fall sick typically self-medicate or travel to Mulago national Referral Hospital, a journey that can take hours on foot or cost more than a day’s wages in boda boda fares. Corral’s team did not bring medical supplies or set up a clinic. They brought food, clothing, and household goods, then left the same afternoon.
But Katanga is not the only community on Corral’s mind. She has singled out Bidi Bidi Refugee Settlement in Yumbe District for her next phase of humanitarian support, praising Uganda’s open-door refugee policy as a reflection of Christian values while acknowledging the strain it places on the country’s resources.
‘I am really happy that this nation continues providing an opportune moment for refugees to be safe and rebuild their lives despite the challenges associated with hosting large numbers of displaced people,’ Corral said.
The health crisis
Uganda hosts approximately two million refugees and asylum seekers, making it the largest refugee-hosting country in Africa. Most come from South Sudan and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Since 2022, more than 550,000 new arrivals have crossed the border, including over 80,000 Sudanese fleeing conflict since April 2023.
The burden has fallen heavily on the country’s health system. Acute malnutrition has risen from 5.4 percent to 7.8 percent across 12 of Uganda’s 14 refugee locations. The World Food Programme, which was assisting 1.6 million refugees in early 2025, now reaches only 663,000. At Bidi Bidi, where Corral has pledged to direct her next efforts, residents still face poor sanitation, unpredictable food supplies, and difficulty accessing clinics. Some mothers walk two hours on foot to get their children vaccinated.
Bidi Bidi was established in 2016 as a temporary reception centre for South Sudanese refugees. It has since grown into one of the largest refugee settlements in the world, with a population that now exceeds 250,000. The settlement’s health facilities are meant to serve a population of roughly 50,000 per clinic, but staffing shortages and drug stockouts have left many residents waiting for hours only to be told that basic treatments are unavailable. The clinics that do function often run on a combination of government funding, United Nations support, and whatever non-governmental organizations can still provide.
The mental health toll is equally stark. Refugees are ten times more likely than the general population to experience depression symptoms. In Bidi Bidi, rising suicide rates have alarmed local health workers.
Ministry on the front lines
Corral is not the first faith leader to arrive in Uganda with a mandate to help. Over nearly five decades of ministry, she has equipped more than 10,800 pastors across seven East African countries. She was recently honored with the Selfless Servant Global Impact Award from the Hosanna Broadcasting Network for cross-border leadership.
But in Uganda, the metric that matters is not awards. It is whether the 5,000 meals in Katanga and the promised supplies for Bidi Bidi can offer more than temporary relief in a system that is losing capacity by the month.
President Museveni and First Lady Janet Museveni have welcomed her support, recognising the growing reality that faith-based organisations have become an unofficial pillar of Uganda’s refugee response. As international aid contracts are terminated, and clinics lose staff, pastors and ministry teams have increasingly found themselves on the front lines of a public health crisis they were never trained to manage.
This is not a new pattern. For years, Uganda’s health system has relied on a patchwork of government clinics, NGO-run facilities, and faith-based organizations to serve both citizens and refugees. When international funding contracts, churches and mosques often step in to fill gaps they are not equipped to handle. They distribute food, offer counseling, and sometimes provide basic first aid. What they typically do not provide is the sustained clinical care, diagnostic testing, and pharmaceutical supply chains that chronic malnutrition and endemic malaria demand.
The question of scale
At Bidi Bidi’s health clinics, malaria still consumes the majority of outpatient consultations. Malnutrition screening programs have scaled back. And with international funding evaporating, the number of health workers on the ground has dropped.
Dr Corral’s ministry is not equipped to run a malaria clinic. But in a settlement where mothers walk hours for vaccines and where thousands of children are malnourished, her arrival highlights a deeper question: as Uganda’s refugee health system approaches the brink, who will step in when the international funding dries up, and will individual charity be enough?
She has called on the Church to complement government efforts by translating messages of compassion into tangible interventions. She urged Christian leaders to look beyond preaching and actively participate in initiatives that improve the lives of refugees.
For now, Corral has pledged to return. The refugees in Bidi Bidi, like those in Katanga, will be waiting to see what that promise looks like in practice. And the health workers left behind will keep treating malaria with dwindling drugs, screening children for malnutrition with shrinking rations, and wondering whether the next shipment of antimalarials will ever make it out of the warehouse.