I am delighted to tell you that I have returned safely from
Kenya after an amazing, and challenging trip.

The first few days were spent in Nairobi, visiting the projects
which Kings Rugby run, out of the Kibera slums, which the Atlas Foundation help
fund – it is Atlas that you have donated to on my behalf.

To see the desperate squalor that at least 1 million people live
in, is extraordinarily humbling. Families live in 3 metres square, mud and stick huts, with leaky corrugated huts and plastic sheets with holes protecting them from the elements, and less than 20% of the huts have electricity. 

The walkways between these huts are narrow, and have been built up over 40 years, by people throwing plastic bags and sacks of human excrement out of their windows and doors, these then get compacted down, year after year, and the kids walk on them in their bare feet. It is simply awful, but yet the kids play, smile and
laugh amongst this detritus, they know no better, they just get on with life without complaining. 80% of their mums are unemployed, and 60% of their dads too. 

For the small amount of work that is available, they queue up for casual work from the early hours, hoping to be thrown a crumb from the businesses that can offer some piecemeal work. It is a pitiful existence, and puts into perspective the total futility of the political shenanigans that we see occur every day on our scepter'd isle, I would challenge any of our politicians to go and
visit Kibera and then it might give them a benchmark on how to behave in adversity and give them a massive slice of humble pie.

Kings Rugby take as many kids out of these slums as possible (and it will never be enough) for 2/3 days a week. 

They provide clothes, food and schooling, the classrooms I visited were incredibly colourful, warm, clean and tidy places of fun to learn in and grow. The kids were impeccably behaved, and thirsty to learn, attentive, quiet and respectful in class. We also went to one of the foodstations we support on the Saturday we were there, and as we walked into the room there were 400 kids were sitting in lines on the floor, waiting  patiently, there was a happy expectant level of chatter - and they cheered us to the rafters when they saw us, a bunch of middle aged privileged white blokes who have everything, being cheered by these kids who have so little, again my humbleometer hit rock bottom. 

It was even more humbling to serve each of them a plate of rice, peas, mince, bread, with a ½ banana and milk for afters, their one big meal of the week. They ate their meals with gusto and, when they had finished, they queued up to put their plates in one bucket and their cutlery in another, whilst scraping their banana skins and milk cartons into a bin - I can’t even get my own kids to do that and they are all over 25!

Another way that Kings Rugby support these kids is to coach
them to play rugby, teaching them the values of rugby as well as how to play it. 

The kids embrace the passion, fun, respect, teamwork, integrity and discipline that rugby is built on and fully throw themselves into their rugby time, they all want to play for the Kenya Simbas 7-a-sde or 15’s team when they are older!

After the reality of meeting these warm loving children face to
face, who only showed us unreserved affection, it then was off to the Abedare mountains, where we acclimatised for a couple of days at 10,000 with a couple of short walks to get used to the lack of oxygen. It was wild and windy and very cold overnight, and not much sleep was had!

The next day we headed to Ol Donyo Le Satima and Table Mountain beyond. Climbing from 10,000 to 14,000 doesn’t sound far, but it was difficult for me to climb the steep sections, you needed three breaths when you would normally only need one. 

The conditions underfoot were thick grassy hassocks, mushy
peat and slippery rocks – ideal NOT!!!

When you throw into the mix the fact I got a sunburnt neck in
the first few hours, followed by being pelted for an hour by hail, and the steady rain, well let’s just say that a difficult climb became a massive challenge for me and my fellow trekkers. If that wasn’t enough, on the descent there was a three-hour thunderstorm, the clouds dropped on top of us, removing any lovely sights and the ability to work out where we were going, and how far
it was to our rendezvous. The trek had been full of banter, but I can tell you the last three hours there was silence, apart from the squelching of my water filled boots! After 9 and a half hours our trek was over and we collapsed into a fleet of vintage landrovers, the relief utterly palpable! 

Now I know 4001 metres isn’t the 5,900 metres of Kilimanjaro
it is high enough for this 64-year-old body I can tell you. But that was before I had cancer in 2020! 5 weeks in hospital in Cape Town in February and March, followed by a bout of Covid before 4 months of chemo, rounded off with some intense radiotherapy and a final operation last year proved to be the most effective diet I have ever been on, losing 25 kgs in the process

Happily, I am currently clear of cancer, and that enabled me to train harder this summer than I have for many a year. Despite that preparation, this is the hardest physical challenge I have ever undertaken, so thank you so so much for supporting me, and those wonderful kids in Kibera, they deserve it more than you will ever know. There are plenty of pics on this site if you want to have a look at what I experienced. 

And, of course, you can still donate if you would like to 😊