I was four when my father died. Five, when I began helping my mother sell vegetables just to keep us alive. At six, I created a space in our shantytown—a place where barefoot children like me could feel safe, joyful, and whole.
I didn’t know it was leadership. Or service. Or resilience. I just knew something sacred was guiding me—and I said yes.
That moment didn’t just shape me. It called me. Through grief. Through war. Through rebuilding again and again—and eventually, to global stages.