When my family and I traveled through Africa—South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Zambia—we expected to be inspired by the landscape. What we didn’t expect was to be changed by the people.
They welcomed us with a kindness and humility that is hard to put into words. They gave generously, smiled freely, and carried a strength we don’t often see. And through that, we began to see something else more clearly: just how much we take for granted back home.
In America, we talk about entitlement. We use buzz phrases like, “Our kids don’t appreciate what they have.” The truth is, we, as adults as well, never really internalize what those words mean and make changes. We expect clean water when we turn on the tap. We expect lights to work. We expect shelves full of food when we walk into a store. We may pay for these things, but we rarely give a second thought as to what it feels like to go without them.
In many parts of Africa, water isn’t the convenience we are accustomed to. It’s a daily struggle. We met families who walk for miles each day just to collect it. Some villages rely on water trucks that only come every other day. This isn’t a temporary situation. This is life.
That reality stirred something in us. That’s why we started the Savanna Water Foundation—to help bring clean, sustainable water solutions to communities in need, one well at a time. We know we’re not going to change the world overnight. But we can change the world for someone—for one village, one family, one child.
Our promise is simple:
100% of what we raise will go directly to well construction.
No bureaucracy. No bloated overhead. Just water—straight to people who need it most.
This foundation was born out of love, out of gratitude, and out of the belief that we can make big changes in people’s lives by doing the small things.
We invite you to join us. Help us fund a well. Partner with us. Or simply reach out—we’d love to share more.
After years of delivering Royal Restroom trailers to weddings, festivals, and events of every shape and size, I started noticing a pattern. Nearly every celebration had a beverage station or bar—but too often, it looked like an afterthought. A tent, some folding tables, a few coolers tucked behind a draped tablecloth. Functional, sure, but not special. Not inviting.