Change Is Possible

Following yesterday's post....


The mother of the boy in the doorway came back to the office this afternoon. She could see that her son wasn't getting any better and had reflected on previous encouragement she had received from KISS staff. This afternoon the boy has been treated by a doctor in a clinic in Kasambya.


Change is possible.

A Voice for the Voiceless

My time in Uganda is fast drawing to a close – but today has provided a stark reminder that this is not something that can ever simply be left behind.

This morning, on my way to town to buy some breakfast, I was stopped dead in my tracks just metres from my front door at the sight of a toddler sitting on the ground in the doorway of a house. He was naked, crying, and covered from head to toe in a dry, brown paste. After speaking to neighbours, I found that the boy had been sick for a number of days, but that his mother had refused to take him for treatment, preferring instead to cover him in this local medicine. There is a commonly held belief here that if a child is to be injected, they will die.

Tears made tracks through the paste on his face. He was covered in flies, and screaming for his mother. As he did so, I watched three adults simply stepping over the inconvenience in the doorway. His mum had gone to her garden, over two hours walk away, to cultivate food for the family. When I went back at 6 this evening, the boy was still sitting there in the doorway. His big sister, who was maybe 7, was sitting next to him, digging parasites out of her feet with a compass.

One of the most painful aspects of my time here has been witnessing the cruelly unnecessary damage done to children simply because adults are either deprived of the time to invest in them or are, through their own pain, numb to the suffering of their own kids. Ignorance, too, has its huge part to play. KISS is trying to change this where it can, by advocating for the children at family and community level. But change can be painfully slow. And change will be too slow for some. Despite advice and financial assistance, the mother of the toddler in the doorway has still refused to take him for treatment tonight.

This afternoon, while I was in the office with Julius (our area manager in Kasambya), he introduced me to Noah. Noah is seven and, though not a direct beneficiary of KISS, has been a regular at our site. He’s one of a big group of boys of a similar age who come to the office to draw and to play with toy cars and do all the things that seven year olds back home do. Sitting on the floor with a replica London bus, Noah looked for all the world like an average seven year old kid. But last night, after losing his new shoes, Noah was terrified about going home to tell his mother. He knew what she would do to him when he told her what he’d done. In total fear, and not knowing how to respond to that fear, Noah did the unimaginable – and attempted to hang himself. A neighbour came rushing to his rescue and, although still marked from the incident, Noah hasn’t suffered any real physical damage. When Julius sat with Noah and his mum last night he found that Noah had got the idea from a film he had seen in which a boy of his age had been feeling anxious, as he was, and he thought that he would see what happened if he tried to do what the boy in the film had done. He had absolutely no comprehension that he wouldn’t live to see what happened.

This incident, whilst particularly extreme, does illustrate even more clearly the challenges that KISS staff now face in trying to change the way children are cared for in this community. Not only do children typically experience extreme fear of harsh physical punishments from parents and teachers, but there is also next to no censorship (or perceived need for censorship) on what children can watch and hear. The levels of violence and explicit references to sex in local papers and on television screens are shocking even to the adult eye. Noah’s experience is the second example in recent weeks of children known to KISS found acting out what they have seen on television screens in town. The task ahead seems enormous - but I can’t praise the staff we have in KISS highly enough for the way in which they have dealt with these two horrendous situations today. They have shown themselves to be selfless, compassionate, and faithful in their response to the children and their families – and fearless in their pursuit of all that is good and all that is just.

The money that KISS supporters have raised in England not only goes towards paying these guys, but it also provides for their ongoing training. Julius has just completed an eight month course in the care for vulnerable children which has left him more determined than ever that change is not only necessary for these children, but that it is also possible. KISS is about so much more than money. Our staff are currently working to give a voice to children who would otherwise be silenced. Please continue to support this work in both prayer and action.

Thanks to YOU, today we have been able to say one extra 'YES!'

Dear all,



Just a short note to say such a HUGE thank you to everyone who donated to the One Extra Yes appeal to get Lawrence his motorcycle. The appeal well exceded the £1000 target and now stands at £1,490 (plus another £299 to be claimed in Gift Aid!)



Today is Lawrence's birthday and I was able to meet him, his partner Harriet and his daughter Rihanna and, over a birthday meal of pork and chips, told them all the good news about the bike. After initially being completely overwhelmed by the news and the amount of support the appeal gathered, they expressed their gratitude in a way that only Lawrence and Harriet can:



"Every morning we open our door really early and hope that the blessings will enter the house. Today, before we have even opened the door, the blessings have pourred in through the ventilators!!"



What more can I say?!! In ALL sincerity, your contributions to this appeal have quite literally changed this family's life - and I don't say that lightly. I don't have quite the same way with words that Lawrence and Harriet have, but thank you SO MUCH. It means nearly as much to me as it does to them. I know that they want to write their own words of thanks, and I will forward them in time. But in the mean time I attach a photo of our birthday lunch today!



The money for the bike will be transferred to Uganda in the very near future. I'll be sure to update you when we have bought the bike!



Love and God bless

Batters x

Help Us To Say An Extra 'YES!'

As one and a half years in Uganda draws to a speedy end, I’m faced with the prospect of a very difficult goodbye. While I will never lose sight of the great good that KISS is able to do on a daily basis, it is also difficult to ignore the many requests for help that we constantly turn away. KISS will never be able to help everyone – but at present we are still saying ‘no’ more than we are able to say ‘yes’. This has been the most difficult aspect of my time in Uganda, and it will be the most difficult aspect of my goodbye. But before I leave, I want KISS to be able to say one extra ‘yes’ – and I really need you to help us to do it!

KISS has been supporting Lawrence since he was 5 years old. Lawrence is now 26 and, together with his partner Harriet, is the parent of two young, beautiful children. Their eldest child, Bruno, is now 5 years old – the same age as Lawrence was when KISS started to pay his school fees. The difference is, unlike Lawrence and Harriet’s own parents, they have been able to send their son to school themselves – a simple testament to the small changes which KISS tries to bring about through education.

However, Lawrence and Harriet face one huge hurdle in their battle to support their family. Lawrence is diabetic, and is reliant on daily doses of insulin, without which he becomes incredibly unwell very quickly. This insulin comes at a cost of £27 per month – a huge drain on the family’s resources when you consider that Harriet’s monthly salary is just £17 per month. Because of his illness, Lawrence is still reliant on KISS for this monthly support – but both Lawrence and KISS are desperate for him to be able to support himself and his family independently of KISS. On a personal level it breaks my heart that such a fantastic bloke should be denied the basic opportunity of supporting his family simply because he has diabetes. The most recent conversation I had with Lawrence ended with the both of us in tears – he feels totally crushed by his inability to help his family in the way he would like. Having lost Lucy to this illness earlier in the year, it angers me that the same illness continues to cause such needless heartache to someone so close to me.

KISS would like to say ‘Yes’ to helping Lawrence secure this independence – to give him the dignity and joy of knowing that he is able to support himself and his children without having to rely on us for his insulin. Lawrence would like to become a ‘boda boda’ driver – to provide a motorbike taxi service around Hoima town. With Lawrence’s current income, buying such a bike will be impossible for him. This is where you come in. I want to raise at least £1000 in the next 4 weeks. £1000 would buy Lawrence the bike and relevant permits to provide him with a daily income. I say ‘at least’ because I don’t want to stop there! Anything which can be raised over and above the £1000 will go towards helping KISS to say ‘yes’ to even more next year. Please, please dig deep – a small sacrifice today could quite literally change Lawrence’s life tomorrow – and goodness knows how many more in the future.

Please visit www.justgiving.com/OneExtraYES to contribute towards the cost of Lawrence’s bike. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

The end of a busy year

It's been a while since I updated the blog... so while I concoct something, I thought i'd publish this - a little taster o what the past year has been about.


In July 2009 I set off on a journey to Uganda to work with KISS - an organisation which I have known and loved since first witnessing it's work as a secondary school student in 2003. KISS has worked in Uganda for over two decades, supporting vulnerable children to access education. We do this by paying school fees, by helping children to access medical care and by addressing other social barriers which prevent the children from attending schools. Aside from the financial aspect of the work, KISS attaches a strong importance to the pastoral and spiritual support of the children, encouraging them to make the most of the opportunities afforded to them and to live their lives to the full.

KISS currently supports over 70 children and young people to access education at primary, secondary, vocational and university levels. These children are spread across four locations in Uganda, with the largest proportion being resident in Kasambya. As well as those whom we directly support, KISS offers a programme of pastoral outreach to over four hundred children in the wider community. At present, KISS is doing all this with just three paid staff members in Uganda.

Life for most children in Uganda is unimaginably hard. Poverty is rife, and paves the way for a cycle of corruption, ill-health, apathy and abuse which invariably has the greatest impact upon the children and most vulnerable members of society. While some areas of Uganda (those hardest hit by war or natural disaster) are receiving a measure of support from outside aid agencies and government initiatives, the average Ugandan town is easily overlooked. KISS is the only organisation working in Kasambya for the sole benefit of vulnerable children in the area.

The first initiative we embarked upon in July last year was a plan to come together regularly as a team of staff, despite our diverse geographical locations. Simple as it sounds, these times together became the backbone of everything that followed. They were an opportunity for staff to unwind together, eat together and pray together. They were also a time to take stock of achievements and challenges and to forge new ways forward for our organisation. These meetings gave us all a much greater sense of community, a greater sense of mission and an overwhelming sense that the Lord was in it all together with us, urging us forward. Before we began this initiative, staff felt isolated, fragmented as a community and lacking in direction. As the year drew to a close, it was hard to even imagine that things had ever been that way.

Through these regular meetings, we were able to decide upon more effective ways in which to nurture and support the children in our care. In both of our two main centres we embarked upon a promise to reach out to as many young lives as possible, while maintaining an interest in the care and development of each individual who we directly support. We decided upon a fresh program of pastoral activity in both centres, making provision for games, sports, music, dance, drama and prayer for children and young people in the community. As well as our wider community activities, we also aimed to more effectively cater for the needs of individuals, such as Stephen:

Stephen is a 13 year old boy from Kasambya. He had been regularly attending our weekend activities and slowly gathered enough trust in the organisation to be able to disclose details about his life at home. For reasons that none of us are ever likely to know or understand, Stephen is the victim of abuse and neglect by his mother, who regularly tells him that she wishes he was dead. He is beaten, prevented from attending school and denied basic necessities such as food and soap. One night, in the middle of a heavy rainstorm, Stephen knocked on my door. His mother had sent him on a 45 minute trek into town in the dark and pouring rain to buy her some nuts. When he turned up at my room he was wet, muddy and beside himself with fear and grief. He begged me to take him back to England, because his mother didn't want him any more.

I am regularly asked what I do out in Uganda. The honest answer, sometimes, is actually not much. There is nothing much you can do when faced with situations like Stephen's. But I am increasingly convinced of the power of just being there with someone – and I think that that is something that we have learnt to do more effectively as an organisation over the course of the year. Our simply being there meant that Stephen had somewhere he could go when he was terrified and alone. It meant that Stephen was able to approach us, and to ask us to intervene, when things got too much. We now support Stephen to attend a boarding school and visit both him and his family regularly in the hope of reconciliation one day. There are no big, clever answers in situations like Stephen's – but it is my hope that our simply 'being' might do something to help Stephen in his suffering while he waits patiently for the reconciliation he so deserves.

My time in Uganda has been a challenging mixture of suffering and hope. I have seen KISS grow and develop at a rate no one could have imagined at the start of the year, under an inspiring team of dedicated staff. We have forged partnerships with other agencies in Uganda, attended seminars and training events and implemented all sorts of initiatives to help in making the organisation as effective as it can be. We have supported 76 children and young people to attend various stages of education, enabled 26 children to access life saving medical treatment and run a successful program of pastoral activities for the development of the wider communities. But on the back of our successes, we have come up against challenge after challenge. Our resources will never be enough to meet the vastness of the need we come up against on a daily basis and we will never have an answer to the suffering we constantly witness and participate in. We lost two members of our community over the course of the year, and shared in the pain of children who suffered their own loss of parents, siblings, friends and relatives.

The past year has left me more determined than ever before that the work of KISS is both unique in its outlook and of huge importance in its impact - and I feel blessed beyond belief to be a part of it.

There is still much to be done before KISS can be said to be achieving its full potential – but with your continued support in England we continue to move steadily towards that goal. Please continue to do all you can to promote, pray for and raise funds for KISS in Uganda.

Our Lucy

At just 19, Lucy was remarkable. She had a rare kind of gentle, unexpected humour ... the kind of humour that could knock you completely off guard, while simultaneously putting you totally at ease. She had an incredibly endearing manner - she was always inquisitive, she was always hopeful and, in the face of great suffering, she was always smiling. Lucy was beautiful. Years of untreated diabetes meant that Lucy was also blind, emaciated, and in the last stages of organ failure.

Lucy lived with her mother in a one roomed house in Hoima. Fr Godfrey and I first came to know Lucy in January last year after her mum requested that a priest visit them to bring Holy Communion for Lucy. Since that time, Lucy, Godfrey and I had grown closer together than any of us had perhaps realised. Lucy's manner was such that you couldn't help but love her and, maybe ironically, discover life through her.

After a long, at times lonely, at times painful struggle, Lucy died on Tuesday this week. KISS had come to know Lucy too late to be able to help her medical situation. Painful as it was to accept, there was nothing we could do to give Lucy a second chance at the life she so longed to live. Outwardly she always held on to the hope that she would see again and walk again. Inwardly, I think she knew what was happening.

Witnessing Lucy's situation was intensely painful. Her beauty made it all the more difficult to accept that a person could be condemned, so unnecessarily, to such isolation and helplessness. Had Lucy had access to treatment for her diabetes early on, there would have been every chance of her living a relatively comfortable life. I have seen poverty destroy so much during my time in Uganda. But it has never angered me so much as when it finally destroyed our Lucy.

When doctors told us that there was nothing more we could do for Lucy, I felt physically sick. But we held on to the belief that that wasn't quite true. There WAS something we could do - we could still be with Lucy - we could still love Lucy, we could still laugh with Lucy and we could still cry with Lucy. And, at the end, that was perhaps more life giving than any medical treatment ever would have been.

Towards the end of her life, Lucy made several requests of us. Fr Godfrey never passed up the opportunity to fulfil those requests. Each time Lucy asked for something, and each time Fr Godfrey fulfilled the request, the two were ridiculed. Fr Godfrey's acts of selfless love for Lucy were denounced as foolish - a waste of time and a waste of money. Why buy perfume for a person who is never going to leave their bed again? Why buy a radio for someone who is running out of days to listen to it? The questions went on. But so too did Godfrey's unshakable belief that Lucy was worth something. Lucy's final request to us, a week before she died, was that we bring her a rosary. At Lucy's funeral this week, Fr Godfrey brought that rosary (one which was particularly dear to him and which he had made up his mind to give to Lucy before she died) and, through painfully human tears, handed it over to Lucy's fragile mother as she wept by Lucy's coffin.

Love really does never give up. I've read it so many times. But it took Fr Godfrey's defiant acts of giving, and Lucy's persistent acts of faith, for my eyes to really be opened to the beauty of what that means.

Loosing Lucy has been horrendously painful - but knowing Lucy was the most incredible blessing. In sharing Lucy's story, it is the blessing, not the pain, that I most want to share with you. Lucy taught us more about what KISS is than we could ever have written of our own accord. KISS is exactly what Fr Godfrey has done - it is not a solution or an end to poverty or suffering - it is a constant fight simply to love in the face of adversity. Lucy has set us an immense challenge. I hope and pray that, in time, we are able to live up to it.

Malaria Strikes....

I've been in hospital this week with a strong case of malaria. Sure, it's been naff. But, deep down, it's done nothing more than affirm that uncomfortable fact that I am one of the luckiest people in the world. Literally. And chances are, if you're reading this, then you're with me amongst those privilleged few.

Uganda has the third highest death rate from malaria in Africa. Yet only 16% of households own one or more insecticide treated mosquito nets and only 10% of children under the age of 5 sleep under one. No wonder, then, that children born in Uganda are born with a 14% chance that they will never see their 5th Birthday. Malaria is the biggest killer of children under 5 in Uganda. Yet it is a largely preventable and curable disease. So what's going wrong?

Kasambya experienced a malaria epidemic at the beginning of 2010. That month was the single most testing period I have experienced in Uganda. People were coming to the office looking tired and dejected. When asked what was wrong they would typically respond "today we have buried 9 people in my village. 6 of them were children." Kasambya, which encompasses a town and over 29 outlying villages has one doctor. It has a handful of small, private clinics run by nurses, medical officers and, in some cases, wholly unqualified personnel.

An extremely high percentage of the adult population in Kasambya has never attended school. Kasambya is not in a high priority area for Aid Agencies - it is not a war zone, it is not prone to natural disaster, does not suffer food or water shortages to any noteworthy extent - it's an average, Ugandan town. What a dangerous thing to be. The population is at the mercy of inadequate, incomplete and inaccurate information on malaria prevention and treatment. Myths are rife - people who do not believe that there are any mosquitos in Kasambya; people who believe that malaria comes from uncooked pork... And the most common reason i'm given for not sleeping under a mosquito net - that they cause suffocation.

When fever occurs in an adult or child in Kasambya, it is almost always assumed (by the patient and medical personnel alike) that the person has malaria. Often, no blood test is carried out and, even more frequently, patients do not even visit a clinic (either through lack of finances, lack of trust in the medical profession, or a belief that it is not necessary). Of these, some people buy their own medications direct from pharmacies (with neither party knowing the correct diagnosis) while others will simply wait for the fever to pass. Malaria medications are misused - people build up resistence and they become ineffective. Other fatal illnesses which cause fever and headache (such as meningitis) are being overlooked. Children are left to die because parents have no access to clinics, no trust in clinics or are too pressed for time to prioritise one child's health over the wellbeing of the family as a whole.

KISS is the only NGO working permanently in Kasambya for the benefit of vulnerable children. The task ahead seems enormous. But with your support, we can make a difference. KISS works to enable education - this means that we try to ensure that whatever barrier it is that may be preventing a child from learning (whether it be financal, medical or social) is broken down and that the child is then supported to reach their full potential. Malaria is just one of very many barriers which stand in the way of children in Kasambya - but it is by far one of the most unnecessary.

So yeah... that pretty much sums up my stay in hospital this week. With all my doctors and all my medicines and all my food and all my drink. Lucky. And determined that one day, no matter how far in future that day might be, I won't need to feel uncomfortable about that any more.

*statistics from Malaria Consortium and UNICEF