I have helped Dorah all my life. My sister is called the most badly-burned girl in the world to survive. I know the emotional and physical pain that she and the other children have gone through. I have seen first-hand the shallowness of society and how it rejects my burned siblings and also those who care for them. I was born into Western privilege in London but raised helping children in squatter camps (shanty towns) every week, often every day. I worked consecutive 15 hour night-shifts as a 16 year old volunteer firefighter in Durban, helping quell raging fires when 100 shacks were alight. I have assessed more than 200 burns survivors needing surgery in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo for whom we were their only hope and felt the shame of knowing we could not treat them all. I have mourned when burned child Helene died because her war-torn country could not save her. I have seen poverty that my British cousins cannot comprehend. I have provided disaster relief for thousands of fire survivors every year and seen how government indifference perpetuates the misery instead of trying to solve it. I have seen my mother exhausted but never giving up on this battle to improve the lives of the poorest, most-injured children. Children of Fire needs to build a sub-Saharan specialist burns hospital for children. This is a massive dream. No dream too big no mountain too high. I have climbed mountains for, and with, these burned children who became my heroes. Help them. Please.