Even though this man had been up all night.
Nambo Village had just celebrated their New Year, and as chief, he had hosted it. Every toast, every song, every laugh that carried deep into the night (and well past it).
He was the last one responsible. And somehow, the first door we knocked on in the morning.
He answered with the best bedhead we have ever seen. Minutes earlier, he had been sound asleep. But the second his eyes opened, the chief was on. No warm-up. No coffee. No easing into the day. He reached straight for the Lao Lao, a local rice spirit with all the fire of moonshine and none of the mercy.
He poured. He raised his glass. He looked at us like there was simply no other way this morning was going to begin. So we toasted. And then, somewhat reluctantly, we drank.
He smiled the smile of a man who has hosted a thousand mornings. But beneath the laughter, beneath the generosity, beneath the man who jumps out of bed to welcome strangers with a toast, Nambo Village is still waiting for something essential.
Reliable water. Sustainable water. Water that does not have to be carried for miles on the backs of women and children every single day. That is why we were there.
For villages like Nambo. For leaders like him. For communities that welcome you with everything they have.
