WHEN you meet Blessing Takudzwa Uriga, you’re first struck by his calm smile — not the scars, nor the prosthetic limbs he walks on.
His voice is steady, his words measured.
But behind that quiet strength lies a story of unimaginable pain, perseverance and hope.
After losing both legs in a childhood accident, Uriga, refuses to let his tragedy clip his wings.
Growing up, Blessing’s dream was to become a pilot.
And even now, at 19, that dream still burns — despite an accident that changed his life forever.
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The day everything changed
It was an ordinary afternoon in 2013 in Norton.
Uriga, then in Grade 2, was playing football with his cousin when the ball rolled into an electricity transformer.
“My cousin kicked the ball and it rolled into the transformer,” he recalls.
“When I went to retrieve it, that’s when I came into contact with a live cable and was electrocuted.”
He was rescued by a brave man who waited for the power line to trip before risking his life to pull the boy away.
Damage had already been done.
“I was born able-bodied, just like my twin brother,” Uriga says quietly.
“After that day, everything changed.”
The electricity burns were devastating. His legs were severely damaged and after a difficult hospital stay, doctors had no choice but to amputate both.
“When the doctors finally came to check on me, it was too late,” he recalls.
“My legs had gone bad. The only option was amputation.”
The first operation went wrong, forcing him to endure a second one on his right leg.
“Now my right limb is shorter than the left,” he says.
“It was a very painful time, but I thank Dr T Gutu and another doctor of Indian origin who later corrected the mistake.
“They saved my life.”
Uriga spent three long years in hospital before he could return to school.
Learning to walk again
In 2016, he rejoined school at St Giles in Harare.
His parents had moved to Belvedere and life slowly began to return to some form of normalcy.
But the challenges of adapting to prosthetic legs were immense.
“I wasn’t comfortable with people crowding around me,” he says.
“So my parents transferred me to Selborne Routledge Primary, where I finished Grade 7.”
From there, he moved to Allan Wilson High for Forms 1 and 2 —but had to stay home for a term when his prosthetic legs became too small and walking became difficult.
Later, he got a new set and transferred to Sandringham High School during the second term of Form 2.
“I only stayed there one term,” he says.
“It was too hard for me, so I asked to return to Harare and I went to Prince Edward School.”
Uriga sat for O' Level examinations last year, but did not pass.
“I thought it would be easy,” he admits.
“But I’ve learnt you can’t move forward in life without education.”
This year, he rewrote four subjects and passed three.
“Now I’m left with Combined Science and Maths,” he says proudly.
“Once I get five subjects, I want to go to South Africa to study Matrix, then apply for a piloting school.
“I still want to fly.”
The weight of the journey
Uriga has had three sets of prosthetic legs so far — each one outgrown or worn out.
The current ones are no longer comfortable.
“The left one is flexible, but the right is stiff because my right limb is shorter,” he explains.
“When I walk, I often fall. It’s painful. I really need a new pair of legs.”
He lives with his parents and brothers on the second floor of their government-owned Belvedere apartment, which makes daily movement difficult.
“We once asked to move to the ground floor, but nothing happened. I’ve just had to adapt,” he says.
“Everyday, I ask myself how I’ll carry on living.
“I need a place that is user-friendly.
“I don’t want to keep burdening my parents.
“I want to take care of myself.”
Despite the odds, he remains determined not to be defined by his disability.
“When people see me walking stiffly, they ask what happened,” he says.
“At first, it annoyed me, but I’ve learnt to stay positive.
“If I keep thinking about the past, I won’t move forward.”
His biggest fear now is not the pain or the prosthetics — it’s being underestimated.
“I don’t want people to say I can’t do some things,” he says.
“Even if I know I can’t do it, when people underestimate me, I try to prove them wrong.”
Worried about the future
His mother, Nyasha Uriga, said they recently received US$25 000 and ZiG25 000 [US$960 official rate; US$750 black market rate] in compensation for Blessing’s injuries.
But she is worried about her son’s future in the event that she or her husband retire or find themselves out of employment.
“Where will he stay? What will he eat? What will he put on? Who will pay for his education? Who will pay those who assist him in time of need? Where will that money come from?” all those are some of the questions she says she asks herself everyday.
“The US$25 000 might sound too big a figure, but when all those considerations are made, it’s not much.”
She said they wanted a house for Takudzwa, in particular.
“At least he will not suffer. I feel so much for Taku, considering his situation.”
Dreams that still take flight
But no amount of money can replace what was lost — or the years of pain he has endured.
What it has not taken, however, is his hope.
“I just want people to see that I can still do something with my life.”
He smiles, eyes gleaming with quiet resolve.
“I may have lost my legs,” he says, “but not my dreams.”
“One day, I’ll fly.”