In Kampala, Uganda, 10-year-old Joel is wearing the number seven on his back. He's playing football at school – and he wants to be just like his hero, Cristiano Ronaldo.
Joel likes English. Mostly because he's good at it. He did particularly well in this subject at school last term.
At home, he plays hide-and-seek with his little sister, helps his mum, Agnes, with the dishes, and has a habit of taking apart anything broken to see if he can fix it.
Ten years ago, his family couldn't have pictured any of it.
Joel was born at Naguru Friendship Hospital after an uncomplicated pregnancy and a normal birth.
But the first time Agnes tried to feed him, he vomited. Then he vomited again. Days passed, and he couldn't keep anything down.
He was moved to neonatal intensive care, put on oxygen and fed glucose through a tube while doctors searched for the cause. Eventually, an X-ray revealed the problem: oesophageal atresia. At just 14 days old, he needed surgery.
The problem was the procedure.
It was a complex, lengthy operation, and surgical teams in low- and middle-income countries had historically struggled to perform it successfully. It required specialist equipment, and what was available was limited.
Not long before, a new operating room designed specifically for children had opened in Kampala. It was the very first built by the team that would go on to become Kids Operating Room.
Even then, there was hesitation. Previous attempts to perform the procedure had ended badly, and some of the team questioned whether they should try again with such little chance of success.
But this time, something was different.
They had a new operating room. New specialist equipment. A space designed for a child as small as Joel.
Joel became one of the first children to be operated on there. And it worked.
The days that followed were still frightening. The first time his mother saw him in intensive care, her two-week-old son was surrounded by tubes, and she wasn't allowed to touch him.
A week later, she could finally hold him. A month after his operation, she tried feeding him again.
This time, he kept it down.
I was so happy. I felt so relieved knowing that he was going to be able to grow up normally and enjoy his life like other children.
Joel did brilliantly at school last term, and his mum couldn't be prouder. She's fairly sure he'll be an engineer – he's forever tinkering with something around the house.
Joel has other ideas. Several of them.
“I want to become a pilot because I like flying in aeroplanes,” he says.
“I also want to be an engineer because I like fixing things like cars. And I would like to become a doctor because I like treating people.”
Whichever he picks, he's already got plans for when he gets there: help his dad with his work, buy his mum her dream car, and pay his little sister's school fees.
A Kids Operating Room exists for exactly this reason.
Since that first theatre in Kampala, Kids Operating Room has created surgical capacity for one million operations for children around the world.
Behind each one, a child like Joel. A family waiting. A surgical team with the tools they need. And the possibility of everything that comes afterwards.
The first day back at school. Football with friends. Growing up. Making plans. Deciding who you might become.
This afternoon, when the school bell goes, Joel will pull on the number seven shirt and run for the pitch.
One day, he might fly planes, fix engines or treat patients of his own.
But for now, he's got a game of football to win.
A future where anything is possible
They’ll make it happen. Surgery made it possible.
