In the slums of Katwe, Uganda, the air was heavy with hardship. Amid the narrow alleyways and rusted rooftops, a young girl named Phiona Mutesi spent her days helping her mother sell maize to survive. School had become a distant dream after her father died, and most days, the only goal was to get through them. She didn’t know what chess was. She only knew hunger.
But one afternoon, when she followed her brother to a shack where kids were gathering, everything changed.
Inside, a man named Robert Katende was teaching something unusual, not football or Bible verses but a game of strategy and patience. Chess. Phiona sat in a corner, silent. The board looked strange. But the pieces intrigued her.
She came back the next day. And the day after that.
Soon, Phiona was playing every moment she could. Her clothes were torn, her feet often bare, but her mind began to sharpen. She studied moves. She memorized openings. She learned to think ahead — not just in the game, but in life. The girl who once couldn’t read was now outwitting boys, beating older players, and winning tournaments. The slum girl was becoming a champion.
By age 11, Phiona became the Ugandan national chess champion in her age group. At 15, she represented her country at the Chess Olympiad in Russia the first time she’d ever left Uganda, the first time she’d seen snow. There, she earned the title of Woman Candidate Master, one of the youngest Africans to do so.
People started to notice. International newspapers told her story. A book was written about her. Then, in 2016, Disney released a movie: “Queen of Katwe,” starring Lupita Nyong’o and David Oyelowo. On red carpets and in interviews, Phiona’s story stunned the world not because she became a chess star, but because of what she overcame to do it.
Still, Phiona remained humble.
“I’m not special,” she said. “What I had was belief. And someone who believed in me.”
Today, Phiona Mutesi is more than a chess player.
She’s a symbol of possibility — for girls in Katwe, for children in slums, for anyone told they can’t dream. She’s studying in the U.S., mentoring others, and continuing to play — not just to win, but to prove that you can rise from nothing and still become a queen.
In the heart of Katwe, where little girls once sold maize to survive, they now speak her name with hope.
Because of chess.
Because of belief.
Because Phiona showed the world that where you start doesn’t decide where you finish.
