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Where It All Begins
 👋 It's me, Alex. I'm writing these lines between important tasks, using sentences we rarely write in our heads. Here, we speak little and listen a lot. Silence often speaks louder than words, especially when you work where life unfolds far from prying eyes. I hope you're all well, wherever you are.
It's already the end of January. First and foremost, I wanted to wish you a happy New Year. A real one. Not one of slogans or empty promises. A solid, grounded, meaningful year. Here, in the field, the year has never truly begun or ended. It continues. So do the problems. And our work along with them.
Over the past few days, I've been thinking a lot about a phrase I heard in a village in eastern Sumba. A simple, almost commonplace phrase. A father said it to me while looking down, not at me. "We often get sick when the seasons change." He wasn't talking about the weather. He was talking about everything else.
When the rain comes too late, the fields yield less. When it comes too heavily, the roads disappear, the wells become contaminated, and children drink whatever they can find. When the heat lasts too long, infections take hold, bodies become exhausted, and malaria returns. Climate here isn't up for debate. It's a medical issue.
 We talk a lot about climate change, often in numbers, degrees, and graphs. On the ground, it translates differently. A mother walking for two hours with a feverish child on her back. One of our "Kawan Sehat" health workers lacks clean water to clean a wound. Into a family sharing a single mosquito net for five people, which is more often than not riddled with holes!
This is where everything comes together. Water, health, prevention, and education. Nothing is separate. Building a reservoir isn't abstract engineering. It's about reducing diarrhoea, infections, and malnutrition. Training a Kawan Sehat health worker isn't just ticking a box. It's about preventing a common fever from becoming a life-threatening emergency. Installing a solar lamp isn't about comfort. It means fewer nighttime falls, more time to study, and less toxic smoke in homes.
 Since the beginning of the year, our teams have been doing exactly that: treating, preventing, repairing, and training. Sometimes in the rain, sometimes under a harsh sun. Always facing the same challenges: few roads, limited resources, and immense needs.
There are days when everything seems fragile. And others, when we realise that what appears fragile is actually sustained by very concrete actions. A repaired pump. One of our medical backpacks was refilled. Repeated training. Regular presence.
This letter isn't asking for anything. It's here to tell you where we are and why we're still here. Because health doesn't begin in the hospital. It starts long before. In the water we drink. In the environment we grow up in. In the ability to act before it's too late, while there's still time.
Thank you for being here, for reading, for following what we do. We'll keep going. Calmly. Seriously. Humanely.
With all my friendship and more,
Alex, for Fair Future - Monday, January 26, 2026. |
