Growing up in Romania, I never thought about where water came from — or what life might look like without it. My family had a faucet in our house, and during the summer we spent in my grandparents’ village, there was a hand pump down the road. We filled our bucket, carried it home, and thought nothing of it.

I didn’t truly understand the water crisis until I became a Peace Corps volunteer in Cameroon in my 20s.

For two years, I lived in a village where the water source was at least a mile away down a steep ravine. There, I learned what it means to ration every drop — to choose between drinking water and washing yourself after a long day in the dust. When water becomes precious, you’re afraid to use it.

You learn quickly that without clean water, nothing works.

Not the body. Not the school. Not the clinic. Not agriculture. Not the economy.

In an age defined by comfort and connection — where we can summon answers, groceries, or rides with a tap — it’s unthinkable that many children will not reach age five because of dirty water. And if they do, they (or, realistically, she) will still have to walk for hours each day just to collect that water.

For the past twelve years, I’ve had the privilege of working on the Water Programs team at charity: water alongside extraordinary local partners, engineers, and community leaders. I’m proud of our technical rigor, our commitment to functionality and monitoring, our catalytic investments in improving the sector, and our belief in people — especially the people we serve.

And I’m proud of you.

Because this work is only possible through people who believe that access to clean water is not a privilege, but a right.

Because without water, nothing works. And with it, everything can.