A worthy cause, and total value of your time. Let us stand united, and recall that what we have, is never too small, to have a huge impact in someone else's life.

When I was a child, my mother told me my name meant “warrior king”. In times when it really shouldn't have mattered, and I’d run out of things to believe in myself for, I’d remind myself what my name meant and pick myself up by my boots and go out and fight for what was mine. But as I grew older, that just became a façade.

There is a boy out there, however, whose name does mean ‘King’. His name is Roy, and I’m not sure anyone has ever had to tell him what his name meant for him to act accordingly. But now more than ever, I feel he needs to know he is a king.

Roy, as a child was one of the humblest and most responsible children I've had the pleasure of encountering. He grew up into a very hard working student and wanted the best and nothing else. He worked for it, he earned it. He grew up knowing his grades would lead to his success.

In Standard 5 (or 5th Grade for the rest of you among us), he had to be taken out of school to receive treatment. He was hospitalized for a while. When he got out, unlike the rest of us who at that age would've stayed him to enjoy sick leave, he went straight back to class. He did everything to catch up. He was happy in school.

Unfortunately he would fall sick again. And again. And again. And it almost became a regular thing that he’d be in hospital with different doctors dishing out different diagnoses each more severe than the last.

I was gravely concerned but every time I saw this kid he maintained calm composure and insisted that as soon as he got out of hospital it was straight back to school.

One such time was right before his KCPE exams in 2009. He had been hospitalized for several months that year, and nobody thought it was wise for him to sit his exams. He didn't care. He didn't want to be pitied. He just studied harder. Right before the papers, he was unwell again and doctors were still throwing darts into the darkness as to what exactly his ailment was. He sat his exams in pain, and I was scared.

I was scared because he insisted that he wanted to go to the best boys’ high school in Kenya, Alliance High School. It’s not easy to get accepted. You don’t just have to pass, you have to be in the top 1% or something.

Knowing how huge an impact school has on him, I worried his absence from class would inevitably affect his performance and that his depression would hinder his recovery. I worried that, for the first time in this boy’s life, he would fail and would never recover from that. He didn't seem worried. In pain, yes. But worried, not much. He held on to his dream.

And it came true. He passed. Extremely well. And strolled through the doors of Alliance High School the next year.

But he was still being pulled out of school for one medical reason or another. Abdominal pains mostly. He had surgery several times. He got his gall bladder removed. His appendix too. The pain didn’t stop. Even then, with worsening pain, as soon as he’d recovered from the surgery or treatment, he told his mother he needed to go back to school immediately.

But the pain has been crippling and the misdiagnoses may have only made it worse.

Finally, a few weeks ago some of the docs at Aga Khan figured out what it was: there was an intussusception in the small bowel. The cheapest place they can get the surgery done is India, but after 6 years of surgeries and hospital fees, the family can’t afford it.

His mother is just as humble as he is. She asked ever so kindly if we could chip in some money in such a way that I thought his condition could not have been so bad based on her tone.

I googled it and was shocked.

To save you reading a whole lot of medical jargon, an intussusception is basically like when you take a telescope and collapse it into itself. Except with your intestine. I’ll copy paste what is said about the treatment:

“The outlook for intussusception is excellent when treated quickly, but when untreated it can lead to death within 2–5 days. Fast treatment is a necessity[...]“

This boy’s been fighting it for years. Roy still has a chance to live. Roy still has a chance to make it and achieve his dream. Roy has been fighting his whole life to be the king he knows he should be, even though for the past 6 years, he’s constantly been hospitalized. Roy is stronger than most people I know and if anyone deserves a fighting chance, it is him. But he can no longer fight for himself.

So I come to you, dear readers, to help give him a fighting chance. The family needs to raise 3 million. They’re trying as best they can on their end. We’re also going to do what we can on our end. How can you help?

1. Spread the word. Spread it far and wide. Get as many people involved. Share the link on Facebook, retweet on twitter. Email it to your friends. If we all chip in a little, it’ll mean a lot
2. Donate: This is obviously the entire goal for this.

M-Pesa to Simone Wangui Wachira: 0707 222 606 for now. We’re setting up a PesaPal and Paybill that should be up by Tuesday. However, we don’t really have time to wait for that.

If you don’t believe in giving money and getting nothing. There are two ways you can do this:

1. T-shirts. Buy one or two, or 10. The price is 1,000 bob and those who received the last batch will attest that the quality is awesome. All proceeds from that go straight to Roy’s medical bills.
2. Participate in the Royal Rumble. (Click for more information)

If nothing else, share this page, or for people who need something shorter to read, this one.

If you want to make separate arrangements on how to help, email icon@diasporadical.com ; subject: “Roy”

Whatever else you do, send your optimism and prayers for the boy.

Thank you in advance.