In May 1991, a boy named Ryan Hreljac was born in Canada. By all accounts, his childhood should have been ordinary—school, friends, chores, the small adventures of a suburban life. But at the age of six, Ryan’s path changed forever, sparked by a single lesson in a classroom that planted a seed of compassion far larger than anyone could have imagined.

One afternoon, Ryan’s teacher explained how children in parts of Africa lived without access to clean water. Some had to walk miles each day just to fetch a small bucket. Others drank from muddy streams. And, tragically, some even died of thirst or preventable diseases caused by contaminated water.

The thought struck Ryan like lightning. How could it be that kids like him—kids who played, learned, and dreamed—didn’t even have water to drink?

With the simplicity and directness only a child could have, Ryan raised his hand and asked:
“How much would it cost to give them clean water?”

His teacher replied that organizations like WaterCan could build wells, and that a well might cost about $70.

That night, Ryan marched straight to his mother, Susan. “I need $70,” he declared. “I want to buy a well for the children in Africa.”

Susan didn’t laugh. She didn’t dismiss his request as naïve. Instead, she gave him chores—vacuuming, washing windows, dusting, pulling weeds—paying him a few dollars at a time. Week by week, Ryan worked, saving every coin until he had the $70 in hand.

But when he proudly walked into the WaterCan office with his earnings, reality hit him hard. A staff member explained that while $70 could buy basic supplies, the actual cost of drilling a well was closer to $2,000.

Susan reminded Ryan that $2,000 was more money than their family could spare. But Ryan didn’t blink. “Then I’ll come back,” he said. “I’ll raise the rest.”

And he did.

For months, Ryan expanded his efforts. He did extra chores around the neighborhood, knocked on doors, and told anyone who would listen about his dream to bring water to children in Africa. His sincerity was contagious. Neighbors joined in. Friends pitched in. His school rallied to his cause. Slowly, dollar by dollar, Ryan reached his goal.

By January 1999, the funds were ready, and a well was drilled in northern Uganda. For the first time, an entire village could drink clean water without fear of disease or death.

But Ryan’s story didn’t end there.

Through letters, Ryan’s school established contact with a nearby Ugandan school. It was there that Ryan first heard about Akana, a boy his age who faced unimaginable hardships to attend class each day. Ryan was deeply moved. At just eight years old, he asked his parents if they could travel to Uganda so he could meet the children whose lives had changed because of the well.

In 2000, Ryan arrived in the village. What greeted him was something he would never forget.

Hundreds of people lined the road, forming a corridor, singing, clapping, chanting his name. Ryan looked up, bewildered. “They even know my name?” he asked his guide.

The guide smiled. “Everyone within 100 kilometers knows.”

The boy who once vacuumed his living room to raise a few dollars now stood halfway across the world, embraced as a hero by people whose lives had been transformed by his persistence.

Ryan could have stopped there. One well would have been enough to pat himself on the back and move on with his life. But instead, he built a foundation—Ryan’s Well Foundation. Over the years, the organization has grown far beyond one boy’s vision. It has funded more than 400 wells across Africa, providing clean water to over half a million people.

And Ryan didn’t just stop at drilling. His foundation now also works on education and sustainability, teaching communities how to maintain the wells, manage resources, and ensure that the gift of clean water lasts for generations.

Today, Ryan is 33 years old. He no longer walks into classrooms as a six-year-old boy with wide eyes and a stubborn dream, but as a man who proved that vision and persistence can ripple outward in ways most people never dare to believe.

While many of us spend our days caught up in things that fade—gadgets, gossip, fleeting ambitions—Ryan’s story is a reminder of what truly lasts: compassion in action. A six-year-old child, armed with nothing but determination and chores, sparked a movement that gave life to countless others.

Greatness doesn’t always start on stages or in stadiums. Sometimes, it begins in the small hands of a child holding a broom, raising money one coin at a time, refusing to give up until strangers half a world away can drink from a well and live another day.

Ryan’s life reminds us of a truth too often forgotten: heroes are not defined by age, wealth, or status. They are defined by the size of their hearts, and their refusal to look away.

Because of one boy, half a million people found water. And because of that, countless others found hope.