• Latina in an Arab community, Muslim in a Latina community. Fernanda belonged to neither side.

• When you belong nowhere, the strongest temptation is to earn your place by doing more. It’s a trap.

• “My identity was based on what I did.” The day you stop doing, you stop being. And a bad day always arrives.

• She came out in three movements: pause, return to being, reconcile the roots. Presence helped. She built the system.

• “Reverse the order. Instead of starting from doing, start from being.” Fernanda learned this at 24. You can start tomorrow.

  ---

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

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🎧 Listen to the full interview with Fernanda Peñaherrera

Lee el artículo en Español

There is a question almost no one dares to ask out loud: who am I when I belong nowhere?

Fernanda Peñaherrera had to answer it twice before turning 24. The first time she answered without a system. The second time she had one. That is why she is here.

Fernanda is Ecuadorian, lives in Riyadh, converted to Islam at 21, is married to a Yemeni man, founded Ssuubi (a humanitarian project in Uganda) and is expecting her first baby. But none of that is the system. That is the context. The system comes from inside.

“Did you have another crisis?” “A bad one.”

When Fernanda converted to Islam, she thought the confusion was over. She was wrong.

“I felt very alone. I felt like no one understood me”, she says of the period right after. Family supported her. Old friends stayed at a distance. New friends did not exist yet. And in that empty space an old wound came back, one she already knew from high school: trying to belong by doing more.

When you belong nowhere

Fernanda was caught between two communities that refused to recognise her fully.

“Latinos criticize me and minimize me for being Muslim. And at the same time, the Arab community minimizes me for being Latina.”

This is not Fernanda’s personal problem. It is a documented pattern. A study published in Frontiers in Psychology on bicultural identity shows that people living between two cultures often experience simultaneous rejection from both sides, and that double rejection is one of the strongest predictors of identity crisis in young adults.

The problem with belonging nowhere is that the only exit that seems logical is: earn your place.

The trap of belonging by doing

Fernanda names it plainly:

“My identity was based on what I did.”

This sounds admirable. It sounds like an ambitious, productive, purposeful woman. And she was all of those things. But the problem is mathematical: if your identity depends on what you do, the day you stop doing, you stop being. And a day when you cannot do always arrives. Burnout, illness, a mistake, pregnancy, any of it. On that day you do not just lose your productivity. You lose yourself.

The movement of return

Fernanda came out in three movements, not one. They were not clean steps. They overlapped. But the order matters.

First, pause. Not run. Not search for the next community to belong to. Just stop. Fernanda decided to step away from both communities that were confusing her. She said something that costs a lot to say: “I prefer to be alone and feel alone than to be with people who are making me confused.”

Second, return to being. This is where her pilgrimage to Mecca played a role, though she clarifies it herself: “I’m not going to say that every time someone is in a crisis they should go on pilgrimage to Mecca. That’s not realistic.” What that trip gave her was a structured pause and an anchor that did not depend on anyone else’s opinion.

Third, reconcile the roots. Meeting her husband (Yemeni) helped her stop fighting with her Latina identity. He told her: “I love your culture. Teach me more.” Fernanda started to understand she did not have to pick between two worlds. They could coexist.

She closed the system herself, near the end of the conversation, like someone handing over the key:

“Reverse the order. Instead of starting from doing, start from being.”

That is the sentence that holds the system. It is not new. Others have said it in other ways. But Fernanda learned it by living through it twice before turning 24.

Three questions to start tomorrow

• Who are you when you do not do?

• Which community asks you for constant proof of belonging?

• If you paused everything you are doing today to fit in, what would be left?

These are not questions to answer fast. They are questions to answer alone.

What else we talked about

There are three moments in the conversation with Fernanda that did not fit in this article but are worth listening to in the audio: her work with Ssuubi in Uganda, her encounter with a Bedouin girl named Islam in the Wadi Rum desert, and how she learned not to accept online hate as a gift that isn’t hers.

Follow Fernanda

Personal Instagram: @fernanda.penaherrera

Ssuubi: @s.suubi

To go deeper

Henríquez D., Urzúa A., López-López W. (2021). “Acculturation Profiles and Mental Health Among Immigrants and Native-Born Adolescents.” Frontiers in Psychology. Study on bicultural identity and double rejection: pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8565597

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About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of Aziul Connections.

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, share it or leave a comment if you find this information useful!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

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• Catalina arrived in Riyadh with the professional pitch she had built in Bogota. Fifteen seconds in, she discovered it no longer worked

• Before Saudi Arabia, she had already lost another building: a nine-year creative agency built with her ex-husband

• The phrase that stayed with her from that loss: “I started building an empire on someone else’s foundation”

• The response was not to start over. It was to design a system: internationalization of the self, five layers that begin with the being

• Today she teaches that system. This conversation is what I learned when I gave her back the question she asked me three years ago

  ---

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🎧 Listen to the full interview with Catalina González Calle

Lee el artículo en Español

Catalina is the first woman I interview for this series. The three previous conversations were with men building startups: Esteban Canepa, Hassan Bash and Rodrigo Jiménez Sandoval. That case four is with a woman, and that the woman is Catalina, is not accidental. Three years ago, in a difficult moment of WAYAKIT, she was my coach. Aziul Connections began to take shape in those sessions, when she saw something in me that I could not yet see. This case study was born there.

Let me start with the scene she told me when I asked what happened the first time, she introduced herself professionally in Riyadh.

Who am I when the titles are taken away

Catalina arrived at a networking event with her usual pitch. Nice to meet you, I am proudly Colombian, my name is Catalina, I work in strategy. The person on the other side asked her two questions she had never heard before.

And where is Colombia? What does your name mean?

Fifteen seconds. That is how long a professional introduction lasts. And in fifteen seconds Catalina realized hers was built from supports that did not exist in that room. The contact network, the recognition of her name, the shared context of fifteen years working strategy for Latin American companies — none of those pieces traveled with her to Riyadh.

Underneath the house of cards that collapsed that night sat a question she had never asked herself.

Who am I when the titles are taken away.

This is not the question of someone who lost a job. It is the question of someone who understands, all at once, that her professional identity was held up by a building that was no longer there.

What is lost when you build on someone else’s foundation

The scene in Riyadh was not the first time Catalina lost a building. Before Saudi Arabia, in Bogota, she had already lost a much bigger one.

She told me that for nine years she built a creative agency with her then husband. When the relationship ended, the company did too. They did not close it. It kept his last name. Catalina gave it up for her peace. And in giving up the building, she lost the professional name she had built inside it.

I started building an empire on someone else’s foundation.

That sentence is not only about divorce. It is about any woman who built her career inside a borrowed identity. The company where you were the visible face, but the owner had a different name. The cofounder’s project where you carried operations. Someone else’s personal brand inside which your work was invisible.

The loss of professional identity in migration is a documented phenomenon in clinical psychology. What Catalina did differently was stop treating it as grief and start treating it as a design problem.

The system that answered the loss

What Catalina built afterward she calls something I had not heard in any coaching manual: internationalization of the self. It is not a metaphor. It is a five-layer system that begins with the being and ends with sustainable expansion.

Being. Dreaming. Doing in balance. Remaining. Transcending.

That is the order. It is not accidental.

When I asked her to explain the logic, she said:

Having clarity about our roots, our values, our history, where we come from. That is unique. Irreplaceable.

The system inverts the logic with which most women founders build their brand. Being before doing. Roots before expansion. And most counterintuitive of all: transcending is not the goal of the system; it is the consequence of the four previous layers well designed.

What Catalina understood when she lost the building in Bogota and understood again when they asked about Colombia in Riyadh, is that no external system holds if the human being carrying it is not designed first.

It is the same idea that holds up this lab, said by a different woman, in a different language, after a different kind of collapse.

The question that changed my life, and I gave it back to her three years later

Three years ago, Catalina asked me a question that changed me.

Why aren’t you building your personal brand?

I was inside WAYAKIT, fused with my own company, not understanding that my personal brand was a different system from the company I ran. Catalina named it before I could see it.

In this interview I gave her the question back.

I am the one who asks the questions.

That was her first reaction. Pause. Short laugh. Resistance. And then, the answer of the woman, not the coach: that she is building, for the first time in her life, her own personal brand. That she had always built brands for others and never for herself. That she is enjoying it, and that she still cannot believe she is doing it.

Three questions you can ask yourself tomorrow

You do not need to be in Riyadh to ask yourself these three. A notebook is enough.

1. Who am I when the titles are taken away?

2. What questions would I rather not be asked, and which ones do I already have structured?

3. What network, what recognition, what reference holds up my professional identity today, and what would happen if I lost it tomorrow?

The answer does not arrive fast. Sometimes it does not arrive in a week. But the question opens something that does not close on its own. And as Catalina said closing the conversation:

When we think about expanding, let us start from ourselves.

What else we covered in the interview

This conversation opened three themes that do not fit in a quick note and that I will develop separately:

• Latin America and the Gulf as opposite and complementary systems. How the scarcity of the desert built a different abundance from ours, and what each side has to learn from the other

• Latin femininity and Arab femininity as two models of power. Different codes, different results, crossed lessons

• The two profiles of coach the sophisticated client looks for: the grounded one and the ethereal one. Why one without the other is no longer enough at this moment of the market

Follow Catalina

Catalina González Calle writes at Catalina entre dos mundos, her Substack between Bogotá and Riyadh. You can also find her on LinkedIn and Instagram as @catalinaconsultant.

The full interview is available on video. There Catalina explains the five layers of the system with the detail this note cannot reach and opens the three themes we left for later.

For further reading

1. Fundación Clínica de la Familia (2026), “Migrar y perder referencias: identidad, trabajo y nostalgia en la experiencia migrante,” clinical blog, Madrid.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

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About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of Aziul Connections.

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, share it or leave a comment if you find this information useful!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

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• I was taking notes for my closing remarks and realized I was writing the same sentence again.

• Five panelists, five different topics, none of them coordinated. And all five were describing the same structure.

• The sustainability you defend as a report is the first thing cut when the budget tightens.

• The one that survives is the one embedded as operating logic, not as a compliance line.

• The question isn’t whether you can invest in resilience. It’s whether you can afford not to.

  ---

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

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🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

Leer el artículo en español

Last Wednesday, the AmCham Saudi Arabia ESG committee ran a webinar called ESG in Action: Building Resilience in Challenging Times. I have been part of that committee since 2022, and this webinar marked the close of my term. I opened the first stream, on ESG as a resilience toolkit, and I was also asked to close the full session with the key points from all five topics.

So, during the four interventions that followed mine, I was taking notes. One sentence per stream. Supply chain, governance, workforce wellbeing, finance. Four separate topics, designed to be explored each on its own, without overlapping.

Somewhere between the second and third panelist, I looked down at my page and realized I was writing almost the same sentence again. Not because they were repeating each other. Because without coordinating it, they were arriving at the same place by different roads.

What I felt wasn’t exactly relief. It was something more uncomfortable. If five people who never compared notes end up describing the same structure, then the thing I thought was my thesis is bigger than me. I was only just naming it.

What each person brought to the table without knowing what the others were bringing

The supply chain panelist talked about something technical: the risk of depending on a single supplier. And in the middle of his explanation he said, almost in passing, that meeting sustainability criteria ends up protecting the company. He didn’t frame it as a cost, but as insurance.

The governance panelist built his whole framework around three words: reputation, resilience, recovery. And he left one sentence that stayed with me. A crisis is not a pause on a company’s values. It’s the real test of whether those values were ever there.

The workforce wellbeing panelist brought two things to the table: treating social responsibility as part of business continuity, not as a separate program, and naming the mistake of cutting safety, training, and wellbeing first when costs rise, assuming they can be rebuilt later. What gets treated as expendable is the first thing to go. And it rarely gets rebuilt the same.

The finance panelist, at the end, made his own list of reasons not to cut sustainability when money tightens. And he closed by saying the only way it works is if resilience is embedded inside.

Five people talking about five different things, and none of them were talking about a report. All of them were talking about what holds you up when the ground moves.

Why this matters if you’re in your own room

You probably weren’t in that webinar. But you’re in some version of that room.

You’re the person who at some point will have to sit across from whoever decides the budget and defend why sustainability doesn’t get touched. And the observation from that webinar is useful to you for one concrete reason: it tells you where the real test is.

It’s not in the report. The report is what looks presentable in a good season. The real test comes when the season turns hard: whether the discipline is still there, or not. A study published in Oxford’s Review of Corporate Finance Studies found that during the market collapse in early 2020, companies with stronger environmental and social practices fell less and recovered better than their peers. Not because they had a better report. Because they had something built on the inside that didn’t come apart under the hit.

The sustainability you defend as compliance is the first thing cut. The one that becomes a way of operating is the one that keeps you standing.

The question left on the table

When it was my turn to close, I didn’t summarize the five streams. I asked a question, because it was the only honest thing I could do with what I had just seen.

The question was this: what if we take sustainability as the operating logic of survival itself? Not as a department. Not as a section of the annual report. As the way the company decides, every day, in operations, in procurement, in governance, in finance.

And from there comes the harder question, the one I really want to leave with you. We almost always frame it backwards. We ask whether we can afford to invest in sustainability when times are hard. But after that hour and a half listening to four people reach the same point without coordinating, the right question flipped on me. It isn’t whether you can afford to invest in resilience. It’s whether you can afford not to.

What I took from the conversation

I didn’t take the five topics. I took the pattern underneath the five topics.

When several people who never coordinated end up describing the same thing, it isn’t coincidence. It’s that they were touching something structural, something that was there before any of them opened their mouth.

So, the next time you’re in a meeting, across from whoever decides, with the budget tightening: look at what you’re defending. If you defend a line in the report, you’ll lose, and you’ll be right to lose it. If you defend the thing that keeps your company standing when the ground moves, that’s a different conversation. That one you can win.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

A public lab studying sustainable systems in business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations, and case studies from a climate tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (reversed)

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About the author: Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a climate tech scientist and entrepreneur across LATAM and MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and author of Aziul Connections.

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems get built.

“I build sustainable life through WAYAKIT, and I study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article. Share it or leave a comment if you find this useful.

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn · Instagram · Facebook · Snapchat · TikTok

• Polymeron turns Saudi date waste into pellets of biodegradable plastic. The original idea was to make plastics with fungi. It didn’t work.

• Rodrigo chose not to capitalize Polymeron through venture capital when he started, and today he approaches investors from a different position.

• His lowest moment was not technical or financial. It was a conflict with a cofounder during his PhD.

• The first spoon made from date waste took eight years to come out. The system that made it possible was not in the lab.

• When I asked him what system he would pass on to the next generation, Rodrigo answered in three words: a system of people.

  ---

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections (🌎🔬 The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

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🎧 Listen to the full interview with Rodrigo Jiménez

Lee el caso de estudio en Español

Why Rodrigo is case study 003

Rodrigo Jiménez Sandoval is a biologist from UNAM in Mexico City. He arrived at KAUST in 2012 for a master’s in environmental science and engineering, returned to Mexico for four years, and came back in 2018 for the PhD. That second time around, he started Polymeron, the company he cofounded with Martín Ibarra to convert Saudi date waste into pellets of biodegradable plastic.

In 2019 the world produced 460 million tonnes of plastic, and only 6% came from recycled sources.

Polymeron is not the solution. It is a case study of how a small piece of the solution gets built over eight years without collapsing.

It started as a side project in my life

“As an idea, Polymeron came up at the end of 2018. It started as a side project in my life, and then we started winning competitions. There was a moment when I was completely wrapped up in the company.”

The first version of Polymeron was not date-based. It was fungal. Rodrigo and his team iterated, saw that it would not scale, and pivoted to date waste. Saudi Arabia is the world’s second largest date producer. The raw material was literally on the street.

What stands out is not the pivot. It is the pace. A full decade between the original idea and the first pellets sold. Most founders building deep tech collapse in year three because the initial round runs out before the science is ready.

If we had started with venture capital, we would have no room to attract investors today

This decision is the backbone of the Polymeron system.

“If we had capitalized through venture capital from the start, we would not have much room to attract investors at this stage.”

The capital sequence was specific and deliberate. First, the KAUST TAQADAM accelerator, which covered the company registration and the first products. Then an international competition by Tanmiah, Saudi Arabia’s second largest poultry producer, which spent ten million riyals a year disposing of chicken waste and wanted to monetize it instead. Polymeron won. Tanmiah became a business partner. After that came funding from the National Technology Development Program. Three non-dilutive sources. Zero equity given up.

Only now, with a finished product and first sales on the table, is Polymeron opening the door to venture capital. They walk in with leverage, not with a plea.

“It’s not just spending time and money. It’s energy. It’s mental health.”

The cost of the slow model is not just patience. It is the human wear of a decade where a cofounder walks out over disagreements, where the PhD and the company compete for the same twenty-four hours, and where the question “is this still worth it?” shows up more than once.

Wow, I created this

I asked Rodrigo what was the moment when he knew the system was working. He didn’t talk about a closed round or a patent. He talked about a spoon.

“When we had our first spoons made from date plastic, I felt something. I don’t know how to explain it, but it was like, wow, I created this. I made this. I want to keep going.”

This happened in the middle of the hardest stretch of his PhD, right after the cofounder conflict that almost made him quit everything. The spoon was not a trophy. It was relief. It was the first physical proof that eight years of holding on had produced something that fit in his hand.

The systems that hold for a decade are not sustained by motivation. They run on small material proofs, spread out over time, that tell the founder the path is going somewhere.

A system of people

At the end of the interview I asked the question I ask every guest: if you could pass on a single sustainable system to the next generation, which one would it be?

Rodrigo did not talk about technology.

“Having a system of people who help you push forward. We always need someone telling us we’re doing well. And sometimes you need a break. Take a weekend off and you’ll see things look different.”

Then, without being asked, he added the harder part:

“There has to be a balance. If you surround yourself with people who tell you all the time that you’re doing great, you go blind. But if you surround yourself with people who are too negative, you catch their energy.”

I shared with him something I heard at a Tony Robbins event two years ago. A makeup entrepreneur was talking about the microphone: who you turn the volume up for and who you don’t. Her rule was simple. You turn up the volume for whoever already did what you’re trying to do. Whoever has the case, the numbers, the scar. You turn it down for the rest, not because they don’t matter as people, but because opinion on paper and opinion with a scar are different languages.

Rodrigo confirmed the analogy in his own words. The most critical system Polymeron built was not chemical. It was an architecture of who gets a microphone and who does not.

What we also talked about in the interview

• How growing up in Mexico City gave Rodrigo the resilience to build in Arabia. A city that builds character, that teaches you to ask for things.

• What Arabia gave him that Mexico had not: the habit of getting to know the person before the deal. Endless tea and coffee before talking about numbers.

• The most concrete cultural difference he learned. The day of the KAUST orientation in 2012 when he extended his hand to a Saudi student, and she, embarrassed, explained that it wasn’t the custom.

• His next steps: consolidate Saudi Arabia, expand across the Gulf, and eventually take the model to Mexico with avocado waste and to Brazil with a local palm whose name he couldn’t recall during the interview.

The full audio is above.

What you can do tomorrow

Three questions to check your own system, not Rodrigo’s:

• What non-dilutive grant, competition, or fund exists in your industry that you’ve been postponing to apply for because “this doesn’t apply to us”?

• Who are you turning up the microphone for who has not gone through what you’re building?

• What’s the first “spoon” you need to see come out to know the system you’re building is actually working, and how far are you from holding it in your hand?

This is the third case study in the Aziul Connections series. The first was Esteban Sánchez-Canepa, CTO of Sadeem Technology and KAUST alumnus, on what really sustains a founder when the external system collapses. The second was Hassan Bash, a Saudi-American operations consultant, on the diagnostic question he uses with every founder before taking them on as a client. The next one comes soon.

Follow Rodrigo and Polymeron

• Rodrigo Jiménez Sandoval on LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/rodrigo-jimenez-sandoval-

• Polymeron on LinkedIn: linkedin.com/company/polymeronksa

• Polymeron website: polymeron.com

  ---

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Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

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About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of Aziul Connections.

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, share it or leave a comment if you find this information useful!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn · Instagram · Facebook · Snapchat · TikTok

Further reading:

1. OECD (2022), “Plastic pollution is growing relentlessly as waste management and recycling fall short,” OECD Newsroom.

2. KAUST (2025), “Turning date waste into ‘green’ plastic: KAUST startup Polymeron champions circular economy,” KAUST News.

3. AGBI (2025), “The Saudi quest to turn campus ideas into startup success,” Arab Gulf Business Insight.

• “The pandemic is over.” I heard that line many times before the Hondius. Now I hear it differently.

• The industry optimizes for the pathogen it already knows, and leaves no room designed for the pathogen that’s coming.

• When the operational system doesn’t follow the chemistry, the chemistry has no way to deliver.

• When someone asks about cost three times in a row, they’re not asking the price. They’re telling you nothing else interests them.

• The sustainable system isn’t the one that never fails. It’s the one with someone always asking what the system isn’t asking itself.

  ---

  👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

  Subscribe now

🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

Lee el artículo en Español

When I saw the news about the MV Hondius, I felt it. Three deaths at sea. Passengers locked in for weeks on a ship no port wanted to receive. Empathy came first, because I’m a human being before I’m a scientist.

But after empathy came something more useful. Recognition. I’ve been hearing my sales team report the same scene for months. We prospect cruise lines, hospitals, airlines. We show that our product deactivates in thirty seconds what others deactivate in five to ten minutes. The only question that comes back is cost.

“The pandemic is over.” I heard that line many times before the Hondius. Now I hear it differently.

The Hondius case is still unfolding as I write this. The strain has been identified as Andes virus, the only hantavirus group with documented human-to-human transmission. The World Health Organization (WHO) issued its Disease Outbreak News in early May. Three confirmed deaths, several suspected cases, passengers from more than twenty nationalities, and a response protocol being built in real time, because no manual existed for this specific combination.

I’m going to talk about what I see from the place I’ve worked for the last ten years, which is hygiene as a system. Not hantavirus as a virus.

Every protocol responds to the previous outbreak

In the first piece in this series I proposed something simple: cleaning was never housekeeping. It’s public health infrastructure. And like all infrastructure, it fails in silence.

Now I want to open the question that follows. What happens when that infrastructure faces what it was never designed to face.

The cleaning protocols on cruise ships today are children of the 1970s. The Vessel Sanitation Program of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) was created in 1975 to respond to recurring gastrointestinal outbreaks on cruises, primarily norovirus. The basic structure is still that, adjusted with later layers. Then COVID came, and protocols added another layer, this time for enveloped respiratory viruses.

Hantavirus falls into a category no standard protocol contemplates.

The industry optimizes for the pathogen it already knows, and leaves no room designed for the pathogen that’s coming.

When the pandemic ended in the collective imagination, even though the virus stayed active, buyers went back to buying the way they bought before. Infrastructure responded to demand. Demand let its guard down.

The chemistry exists. The attention does not.

Here’s where my training becomes useful to the reader.

The most important difference between viruses, for cleaning purposes, is whether or not they have an external lipid envelope. What that difference implies in practice is best seen this way:

Contact times based on labels of disinfectants registered with regulatory agencies. Real efficacy depends on whether the contact time is met in operation, not only on whether it's printed on the label.

Viruses divide into two groups by the presence or absence of an external lipid envelope. Enveloped ones, like SARS-CoV-2 or hantavirus itself, are fragile in the face of detergents, alcohols, organic acids. Their fat layer breaks down with relative ease. Non-enveloped ones, like norovirus, adenovirus, hepatitis A, are armored. Norovirus can survive up to fourteen days on a stainless steel surface. Adenovirus, up to sixty. The difference matters because products that kill one don't necessarily kill the other.

Hantavirus is enveloped. That matters. It means it’s theoretically vulnerable to almost any decent disinfectant. But its mode of transmission changes the calculation. The virus travels in dry rodent excreta dust. When someone sweeps, vacuums, or shakes, the virus aerosolizes and enters through the airways. Available chemistry deactivates it. Common operations disperse it before touching it.

There’s a pyramid I teach when I talk about this. Cleaning removes dirt. Sanitizing achieves a 99.9 percent reduction. Disinfecting reaches 99.999. Sterilizing erases everything. The difference between sanitizing and disinfecting looks small in percentage. It isn’t. For a virus like norovirus, where eighteen particles are enough to make a person sick, the difference between 99.9 and 99.999 is the difference between hundreds of residual particles and units. The difference between a contained outbreak and a runaway one.

Then there’s contact time. The label of a quaternary ammonium disinfectant, the famous quats that dominate the industry, calls for ten minutes of wet contact to reach its declared efficacy. The operational reality is different. A cabin attendant has ninety seconds per surface, sometimes less. The product is applied, dries before completing the cycle, gets wiped. The protocol on paper says 99.999. Operational reality is probably 99 or less. This isn’t the cabin attendant’s fault. It’s system design that assumes conditions that don’t exist.

Epidemiologist Katelyn Jetelina, who writes Your Local Epidemiologist, asked the right questions in early May. Where the passengers got infected. What excursion, what pre-boarding exposure, what the cases have in common. The questions she asks are operational, not theoretical. And they reveal something worth naming: epidemiologists aren’t asking chemistry whether it works. They’re asking the system whether the chemistry was applied where it should have been, when it should have been, for as long as it should have been.

Let me tell you from the inside. In aviation, where we’ve been working for years, we’ve found that many clients have already migrated to our product. But when we run on-board application audits, we find trays that the product never even reaches. The chemistry has been bought. The application doesn’t happen. They went through the training module, signed the contract, paid for the supply. And still there are surfaces the staff never touches, because shift time runs out or the protocol doesn’t contemplate that specific zone.

When the operational system doesn’t follow the chemistry, the chemistry has no way to deliver.

The problem is not the chemistry available. It’s the attention available.

When the buyer only asks about cost

In the first piece I closed with a line worth bringing back here. Cost is paid by whoever has the least voice in the decision. The daycare that cleans on a household budget, that cost is paid by the children who get sick. The cruise that cleans on a savings protocol, that cost is paid by the passengers who trust.

During the pandemic, talking about contact time in a proposal to an airline or a cruise line was the first advantage we showed. It worked. Buyers understood the argument because collective urgency made them understand it. In 2021, WAYAKIT signed a partnership with Saudi Ground Services (SGS) for sustainable aircraft cleaning across Saudi Arabia. The case documented increased efficacy, reduced operational costs, and improved sustainability simultaneously. Three axes in one validation. The industry read it.

Today, in 2026, that same argument no longer enters the procurement room. My sales team reports the conversation: they explain the time savings, the toxicity reduction, the expanded efficacy against non-enveloped viruses. The buyer listens and always returns to the same question. And the cost? And the cost? And the cost?

When someone asks about cost three times in a row, they’re not asking the price. They’re telling you nothing else interests them. The regulation of chemical products lives the same cycle. Activist Lindsay Dahl, who writes about environmental health policy in the United States, documented a few weeks ago how an entire generation of chemical protections was dismantled in fifteen months since 2025.

The pattern repeats at the institutional level. The CDC’s Vessel Sanitation Program, founded in 1975 to inspect cruise ships docking at U.S. ports, lost key staff during 2025 and its director retired the week of the Hondius outbreak (STAT, May 7, 2026). The Hondius, operated by the Dutch company Oceanwide Expeditions and sailing under Dutch flag, never fell under that jurisdiction. But the temporal coincidence between institutional emptying and the outbreak is the postcard of the moment: when collective attention drops, biosecurity networks loosen in silence.

How do you talk to a buyer in 2026 about a risk they live as past? How do you name a danger that technically is still there, but that socially has been archived? The honest answer is that you don’t talk to them about the risk. You talk to them about what the current system isn’t ready to handle the day the next thing arrives. That day always arrives. The Hondius only confirmed it this week.

The questions the system doesn’t ask

I’m not going to give you a list of what to do. What helps more is a list of questions the system isn’t asking itself, and that any leader can start asking their own.

• What pathogens does the standard cleaning protocol actually cover?

• What’s the contact time the disinfectant label requires, and what’s the contact time the operational staff actually has on shift?

• What happens operationally from the moment a suspected case is reported until a laboratory diagnosis arrives?

• What training does the on-board medical staff, or in a building, or in a clinic, have in pathogens that aren’t common respiratory ones?

• Where is the published root-cause analysis of the last incident?

  

  These questions aren’t just for cruise operators. They’re the audit any leader can run on their own system. The office, the school, the hospital, the factory, the hotel chain. Every closed space where someone trusts their health to a system they can’t see. The cruise works as metaphor, but the audit is the skill you take with you to any closed system you run.

  The sustainable system isn’t the one that never fails. It’s the one with someone always asking what the system isn’t asking itself.

  When was the last time you audited what’s invisible in your operation?

  ---

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  Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

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  About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

  Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of Aziul Connections.

  Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

  “I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

  Thank you for reading or listening to this article, share it or leave a comment if you find this information useful!

  Luisa

  ---

  Connect with me

  📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

  LinkedIn · Instagram · Facebook · Snapchat · TikTok

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  Formal references

  1. World Health Organization. Hantavirus cluster linked to cruise ship travel, Multi-country (DON599). May 4, 2026. https://www.who.int/emergencies/disease-outbreak-news/item/2026-DON599

  2. Aziul Connections, Piece 1 of the series. The Invisible Infrastructure That Decides Whether Your Child Gets Sick This Week. https://www.aziulconnections.com/p/invisible-infrastructure-hygiene-public-health

  3. Jetelina K. Hantavirus, allergies and common cold. Your Local Epidemiologist, May 5, 2026.

  Your Local Epidemiologist

  Hantavirus, allergies and common cold, Covid-19 spring vaccine, and good news

  Spring is beautiful, but it may also be making you feel miserable. Ticks are out in record numbers, pollen is everywhere, and the common cold is hitting its seasonal peak. Meanwhile, an unusual hantavirus outbreak on a cruise ship sounds like a movie plot, but it’s a sharp reminder of why global health connectivity matters. I’ll walk you through what di…

  Read more

  a month ago · 497 likes · 27 comments · Katelyn Jetelina and Hannah Totte, MPH

  1. Dahl L. A Generation of Chemical Safety Progress, Undone in 15 Months. The Environmental Health Brief, April 2026.

  The Environmental Health Brief

  A Generation of Chemical Safety Progress, Undone in 15 Months

  Welcome to the The Environmental Health Brief—by Lindsay Dahl—a nationally awarded activist and author of Cleaning House (HarperCollins). This newsletter gets into complex topics through a lens of credible peer-reviewed science (no pseudoscience folks), my experience as a…

  Read more

  a month ago · 14 likes · 2 comments · Lindsay Dahl

  1. McGoldrick S. Health authorities work to contain cruise ship hantavirus outbreak. The Conversation, May 7, 2026. https://theconversation.com/health-authorities-work-to-contain-cruise-ship-hantavirus-outbreak-282343

  2. Maillard JY et al. Reducing antimicrobial use and resistance in healthcare environments through improved cleaning and disinfection. Antimicrobial Resistance & Infection Control, 2023. [DOI pending]

  3. Hall AJ et al. Norovirus disease in the United States. Emerging Infectious Diseases, 2016. [DOI pending]

  4. Maes P et al. Evaluation of the efficacy of disinfectants against Puumala hantavirus. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7185759

  5. CDC. Vessel Sanitation Program: Environmental Public Health Standards. 2025. https://www.cdc.gov/vessel-sanitation/media/pdfs/2025/06/2025_VSP_Environmental_Public_Health_Standards-508.pdf

  6. STAT News. Top official retires from CDC cruise ship program amid hantavirus outbreak. May 7, 2026. https://www.statnews.com/2026/05/07/luis-rodriguez-retires-cdc-vessel-sanitation-program-amid-hantavirus-outbreak

• Most companies don’t have a revenue problem, they have a silent dependency problem

• Where do decisions slow down when you’re not in the room? That’s Hassan’s diagnostic question

• AI without clarity or alignment doesn’t solve dependency, it just scales it faster

• The weekly operating rhythm is the 20-minute tool that keeps the system alive

• Without weekly pause, no investment in AI or automation actually moves your business

  ---

  👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

  Subscribe now

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🎧 Listen to the full interview with Hassan Bash

Lee el artículo en Español

Why Hassan is case study 002

Hassan Bash is a Saudi-American founder. Born in Saudi Arabia, raised between two cultures, today he works from Los Angeles with eight-figure service companies to turn more of their revenue into profit. He doesn’t call himself a consultant. He works as a partner inside the business until the business can run without needing the founder.

I chose him as case study 002 because the conversation we had changed how I see my own operational system. Two weeks ago I wrote about the day I became the system that was failing in my own business. Hassan has a question that would have saved me months of work. This is for you if you haven’t gotten to that point yet, and for me too.

The problem almost nobody names correctly

According to CB Insights, 38% of startups fail by running out of cash or failing to raise capital. But what very few recognize is the problem underneath: the founder became the only reason the business moves.

It’s Tuesday. You’ve been putting out fires for three hours. Approving things you shouldn’t be approving. Making decisions your team could make if they knew they could. And by end of day, the business hasn’t moved forward. It just didn’t fall. That’s not scale. That’s survival.

Hassan calls this by its real name:

“Most companies don’t have a revenue problem, they have a dependency problem. With AI, it’s even more visible. Because you can’t deploy AI into a business that doesn’t have enough clarity or alignment, and if you just add AI for the sake of adding AI, it just scales the chaos.”

The question nobody asks their own business

Last week I caught myself putting out fires without even knowing where we were headed. Hassan is right. Without pause, there’s no direction.

When I asked him what’s the first question he asks a founder to identify that bottleneck, his answer was surgical:

“Where do decisions slow down when you’re not in the room? That expands and unfolds other conversations. What I’m really, really looking for is where the team is waiting. Where are things getting stuck? And where the founder is the default.”

The question doesn’t diagnose broken processes. It diagnoses something more uncomfortable: where you’ve become the default without realizing it.

“Where do decisions slow down when you’re not in the room?”

What Hassan leaves as a portable system

I asked him one last question before closing the interview. The one I ask everyone: if you could pass forward just one system to the audience, something that would help them navigate all the other aspects of business and life, what would it be?

His answer was disarmingly simple:

“The one system to pass forward is weekly operating rhythm. Just 20 minutes to an hour a week. For you to set down as a leader and reflect for 20 to 60 minutes a week. About what worked, what didn’t, and what needs to happen the following week.”

Twenty minutes. Three questions. Once a week. That’s it. And then he closed with the line that stayed with me:

“Without that rhythm weekly, you can have all the AI tools in the world, and nothing will actually move. Without knowing what are the patterns?”

What we also talked about in our interview

• The difference between coaching and consulting, and why he refuses to call himself a consultant even though he works solving problems

• How trust operates in Saudi Arabia, where family enters before ROI, and how that connects to how we do business in Latin America

• Why pressure, well applied, is what creates the genius inside a team

The full audio is above.

What you can do tomorrow

Three concrete actions, all from Hassan, all to start on Monday.

One. Ask yourself the diagnostic question this week. Where do decisions slow down when you’re not in the room? Write the answer down. Don’t think it, write it.

Two. Identify one single thing where your team is waiting on you today without you knowing. Remove it. This week.

Three. Install the weekly operating rhythm. Twenty minutes, once a week, three questions. What worked. What didn’t. What has to happen next week.

Hassan shared his complete weekly reflection process — the Bash Weekly Sprint with Aziul Connections readers. It’s what he uses with his clients. You can do it with pen and paper.

Follow Hassan

• Web: hassanbash.com

• LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/hassanbash

• Podcast: The Hassan Bash Show (Apple Podcasts, Spotify)

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

Subscribe now

About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of Aziul Connections.

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, let’s keep building our Continuity floor, one system at a time!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/luisajavier/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/luisa.emi

Snapchat: https://www.snapchat.com/@luisaemijavier

For further reading:

1. CB Insights (2024), “The Top 12 Reasons Startups Fail,” CB Insights Research.

2. Bash, H. (2026), “Bash Weekly Sprint: Weekly Operating Rhythm for Founders,” Bash Revenue.

3. Javier, L. (2026), “Experiment 002: When you are the system that fails,” Aziul Connections.

• Cleaning was never housekeeping. It is public health infrastructure. And like all infrastructure, it fails in silence.

• If the only thing telling you your hygiene system works is that it looks clean, you don’t have a system. You have a belief.

• Hygiene systems fail where responsibility gets diluted.

• What isn’t designed on purpose ends up designed by default.

• The cost is paid by whoever has the least voice in the decision.

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections (🌎🔬 The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

Subscribe now

🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

Lee el artículo en Español

A daycare with hundreds of children and a household-sized budget

Some time ago, an educational institution caring for hundreds of children reached out to the WAYAKIT team. They wanted a quote on cleaning products. When we reviewed their monthly spend, we found something that stayed with me for several days. They were spending on cleaning roughly what an average household spends.

They weren’t the only one. We have prospected several daycares and schools, and this pattern shows up more often than I would like. It’s not conscious negligence either. What happens with these institutions is what happens whenever a system isn’t designed. It is simply inherited.

What keeps bringing me back to this scene isn’t the number itself. It’s what the number indicates. If an institution caring for hundreds of children is cleaning on a household budget, we are likely talking about an institution cleaning with water. And the parents of those children don’t know.

This is the thesis I want to open today:

Cleaning was never housekeeping. It is public health infrastructure. And like all infrastructure, it fails in silence.

What we call infrastructure, and what we don’t

When someone says public health infrastructure, we picture hospitals. Vaccines. Drinking water networks. Things with plaques, public budgets, ribbon-cutting ceremonies.

Everyday hygiene is also infrastructure. What happens day after day in a daycare, in an aircraft cabin, in a hotel room, in a restaurant kitchen. But we don’t see it that way. We don’t fund it that way. We don’t audit it that way.

An international group of experts led by Matthew Freeman and Jonny Crocker met in Dakar and last year published a paper in Nature Water worth bringing into this conversation. They argue that hygiene interventions at scale have failed to sustain real change because we think of them as standalone products or as campaigns, when in reality they are hygiene systems that need design, maintenance, metrics, and redesign.

Katelyn Jetelina, the epidemiologist behind Your Local Epidemiologist (also published in Spanish as Su Epidemiólogo Local, translated by Dr. Maria Zoco), articulated it a few weeks ago with an image that sticks: public health is an invisible shield. It works quietly in the background, preventing crises we never see. And there lies the design problem. If no one sees it, no one feels it, no one can define it, no one sustains it.

What I learned measuring the invisible

Five years of my doctorate at KAUST were spent measuring ATP on desalination membranes with a lab luminometer. ATP is adenosine triphosphate, the energy molecule of every living cell. When you measure ATP on a surface, you are not counting specific bacteria. You are measuring whether microbial life is present. It’s a fast proxy, imperfect, but brutal in its honesty: the cleaning method worked or it didn’t.

Today we have moved that same measurement into the field, now with portable equipment. Aircraft cabins. Hotel rooms. Trays, seatbelts, remote controls, touchscreens. The measurement happens in situ, before and after applying the existing cleaning protocol. What we see breaks the assumption.

The constant: most organizations trust that their providers are cleaning. Few verify. And when verification happens, the results don’t match the belief.

And this pattern isn’t regional. It is documented globally. In Brazilian hospitals, hand hygiene compliance averages 47%. In a study measuring prevalence across hospitals in Brazil, Venezuela, Mexico, and Colombia, one in ten hospitalized patients had at least one healthcare-associated infection (12.26% regional average, Mexico 13.24%). At Mexico’s Hospital Infantil Federico Gómez, implementing an automated hand hygiene monitoring system reduced infections by 43.4 to 56.7 percent.

A line worth marking:

If the only thing telling you your hygiene system works is that it looks clean, you don’t have a system. You have a belief.

Where responsibility gets diluted

There is a design pattern sustaining this problem, and it’s worth naming. Hygiene systems fail where responsibility gets diluted.

Parents trust the daycare. The daycare trusts its provider. The provider delivers what was asked of them, almost always at the lowest possible price. And still, children get sick more than they should. A CDC analysis documented that 22% of households of daycare caregivers experience secondary transmission of diarrheal disease. The figure is from 2004 and hasn’t improved enough. Infections that happen inside the daycare end up in the homes, in the siblings, in the grandparents.

Lindsay Dahl, the environmental health lobbyist behind The Environmental Health Brief, names it precisely in a recent essay: there’s a story we tell ourselves about toxic products that goes something like this. The problem is in your home, and the solution is now your personal burden. Swap the pan, filter the water, replace the couch. Her argument is that this narrative is not accidental. It is structural, and the real solution doesn’t live in the individual consumer but in public policy and systems design. Her work focuses on chemical policy, but the principle applies to hygiene more broadly. When the regulatory or institutional system fails, the cost gets transferred to the end user, who almost never has the information or the power to solve it.

There are three specific reasons the system fails in silence. The first is metric. Almost no one measures ATP outside the lab, and what isn’t measured doesn’t enter the operational conversation. The second is the product label. That phrase about killing 99.9% of germs sounds sufficient until you understand against which pathogens. There are viruses that don’t fit trivially in that remaining 0.1%, and the products that inactivate them are different from the ones that kill common bacteria, a technical distinction that almost never reaches procurement. The third is cost. In the United States alone, healthcare-associated infections cost between 28 and 45 billion dollars per year and kill approximately ninety thousand people, most of them preventable. The money procurement saved by choosing the cheapest product is paid by another budget, another family, another shift.

And this is where the system gives itself away. What I am describing is not individual negligence. It is a system designed not to question itself.

The cost is paid by whoever has the least voice in the decision: the child in the daycare, the passenger on the flight, the patient in the hospital bed.

The question no one is asking

I want to come back to the daycare for a moment. Not to resolve it, but to reopen the question.

When I was the mother of a baby boy, many years ago now, it didn’t occur to me to ask. I didn’t have this information. I didn’t have this knowledge. I trusted, the way parents trust their daycares right now, the way passengers trust airlines, the way patients trust hospitals.

Hygiene is public health infrastructure. What isn’t designed on purpose ends up designed by default. By default means: by lowest price, by habit, by blind trust.

The next time you walk into a space where others trust it is clean, it’s worth asking who is measuring what, and who pays if no one is watching. This is not about distrust. It is about applying to hygiene the same logic you would apply to any other critical infrastructure.

In the next pieces of this series, we are going to open the box. What is actually being measured, against what reference, why the products you think are protecting you aren’t always doing it, and what questions are worth starting to ask now, before someone else gets sick.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

Subscribe now

About the author: Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM and MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of Aziul Connections.

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article. Share it or leave a comment if you found this information useful.

Luisa

References

1. Freeman, M. C., Crocker, J., et al. (2025). Systems thinking for hygiene: an interdisciplinary approach to sustained behavior change. Nature Water. https://www.nature.com/articles/s44221-025-00424-9

2. Jetelina, K. (2026). Happy Public Health Week. Your Local Epidemiologist (Substack).

Your Local Epidemiologist

Happy Public Health Week

YLE is on our annual spring break this week! Which means a pause in the newsletters hitting your inbox…

Read more

2 months ago · 388 likes · 21 comments · Katelyn Jetelina

1. Su Epidemiólogo Local — Spanish-language edition of Your Local Epidemiologist, translated by Dr. Maria Zoco.

1. Telles, J. P., et al. (2025). Hand hygiene compliance in Brazilian hospitals. The Lancet Regional Health – Americas (via PubMed Central). https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11875181/

2. Huerta-Gutiérrez, R., et al. (2019). Prevalence of healthcare-associated infections in Latin America. International Journal of Infectious Diseases (IJID). https://www.ijidonline.com/article/S1201-9712(19)30261-9/fulltext

3. Salinas-Escudero, G., et al. (2023). Impact of an automated hand hygiene monitoring system on healthcare-associated infections at Hospital Infantil de México Federico Gómez. Frontiers in Public Health. https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/public-health/articles/10.3389/fpubh.2023.1117680/full

4. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). (2004). Diarrheal illness in children attending child care. Emerging Infectious Diseases. https://wwwnc.cdc.gov/eid/article/10/11/04-0623_04_article

5. Dahl, L. (2026). Care about the environment, but dismiss toxic chemicals in products as pseudoscience? Read this. The Environmental Health Brief (Substack).

The Environmental Health Brief

Care About the Environment, but Dismiss Clean Living as Pseudoscience? Read this.

Earth Week Edit »…

Read more

2 months ago · 6 likes · Lindsay Dahl

1. Stone, P. W. (2009). Economic burden of healthcare-associated infections: an American perspective. Expert Review of Pharmacoeconomics & Outcomes Research (via PubMed Central). https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC2827870/

2. WAYAKIT Group. Corporate site.

https://sa.wayakit.com

1. King Abdullah University of Science and Technology (KAUST).

https://kaust.edu.sa

Note on currency: References #7 (CDC, 2004) and #9 (Stone, 2009) are older sources, kept here because they remain the canonical studies cited in subsequent literature. The specific figures may have shifted in magnitude, but the documented pattern still holds.

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

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• Most founders report mental health challenges.

• Esteban Canepa, founder of Sadeem Technology, articulated two systems that operate on different layers.

• Purpose pushes you in the long term, but it does not sustain you on the days when purpose is not enough.

• Life is a jazz concert. Ritual is the structure. Bad days are the bars where you improvise.

• Building a company between Latin America and the Middle East requires a level of resilience few people understand.

  ---

  👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

  Subscribe now

🎧 Listen the full interview in Spanish here

Lee el artículo en Español

Why Esteban is the first case study

A few weeks ago, I interviewed Esteban Canepa, founder of Sadeem Technology, a flood prevention sensor company operating from Saudi Arabia across four countries.

I chose him as the first case study for Aziul Conexiones for a specific reason. We both arrived at KAUST in the same year, 2009. Together, we did something that, at the time, almost no one could even locate on a map: we built an intersection between Latin America and the Middle East. We chose to build in a country very few people in our region could understand.

Seventeen years later, we are both still here. Still building.

And that is what I wanted to study first: what life systems sustain a founder when the path looks nothing like anything you have ever seen before.

At one point in the conversation, Esteban paused and asked himself a question:

What do you do if you have several bad days in a row?

At that moment, I did not yet know that in a study published in Small Business Economics, 72% of founders report experiencing mental health challenges.

Esteban did not say that statistic. But the answer he gave explains why he is still standing ten years after founding Sadeem.

The system for good days is not the problem

Most founders are clear on their purpose. They know why they started. They have a long term drive that pushes them through the marathon.

The problem is that drive is designed to finish the marathon. Not to carry you through the kilometers where your body collapses.

Esteban said it like this, without me even asking:

I would describe it as a long term system, your drives. That is what pushes you to finish that 40 kilometer marathon. But on the other hand, you have your daily mitigation system, a smaller system.

Two systems. Not one. That distinction stopped me.

The first system is the why. The deep reason. What makes you a founder for life, as he put it.

The second system is something else entirely: a small ritual repeated every day, regardless of how you feel.

The drive pushes you through the marathon. The ritual sustains you in the kilometers where your body collapses.

Most founders I know only have the first one.

What Esteban does at 6 in the morning

I asked him what his mitigation ritual was. I expected something elaborate.

He said: I wake up early and I exercise.

That was it.

But then he added the line that changed how I think about morning routines:

It helps me feel empowered on the days I exercise.

Empowered. Not motivated. Not optimized. Empowered to face the day.

In my own experimentation, documented in this lab, I have seen the same thing. The continuity of a ritual is not discipline. It is architecture.

A morning routine does not exist for the days you feel like it. It exists for the days you do not feel like it and still show up.

The ritual is not for the good days. The ritual exists to give continuity to the mission on the bad days.

That is its function. To mitigate.

To prevent one bad day from becoming three.

Three from becoming a week.

A week from costing you your company.

Life as a jazz concert

Toward the end of the interview, I asked him a question I ask every founder who comes through here: if you could pass on one life system to the next generation, what would it be?

Esteban answered:

I think life is lived like a jazz concert. Songs have a structure, but the musician can improvise if they feel it. But that musician always returns to the structure.

Structure with improvisation.

The ritual is the structure. The bad days are the bars where you improvise. But you always return.

The reason most founders never build the second system is that admitting bad days will come feels like admitting the external system is not always enough. And in an industry that rewards the appearance of control, that is uncomfortable.

But jazz gives us the answer. The structure is not there to prevent bad days. It is there so you have somewhere to return to afterward.

What else we covered in the interview

The conversation with Esteban covered much more than what fits in this article. If you listen to the full version, you will find:

• The real distance between publishing a scientific paper and having your technology running in the field at 3 in the morning.

• Why he shifted from academia to entrepreneurship in a single week in 2016.

• What he assumed for years in the lab that reality later proved wrong.

• How he has sold technology in Middle Eastern and Latin American markets, and what fundamentally changes between them.

• And why he decided to found Fundación Amal alongside his company.

The full audio is above.

What you can do tomorrow

Three questions, directly from the conversation with Esteban:

• First: what is your long term drive? Most people can answer this. If you cannot yet, that is another article, another layer.

• Second: what is your daily mitigation ritual? This is where most people go quiet. If your answer is “I do not have one,” you already have your first data point.

• Third: what would happen if your ritual disappeared for three days? This one tells you the most. If the answer is “nothing, I will come back when I can,” you have a routine, not a system. If the answer is “everything else collapses,” then you have the architecture but not yet the system.

Esteban does not have a more sophisticated system than you. He has a smaller one. And a more consistent one.

That was the lesson.

What is your ritual for bad days? Share it in the comments. I want to see what other founders are building in their second system.

Next week, another founder. Another layer of the same system.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

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About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of Aziul Connections.

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, share it or leave a comment if you find this information useful!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn · Instagram · Facebook · Snapchat · TikTok

Follow Esteban and Sadeem

Esteban Canepa regularly shares insights on entrepreneurship, film, and life between Latin America and the Middle East.

Instagram: @escanepa

LinkedIn: Esteban S. Canepa

Sadeem Technology

Fundación Amal — a social initiative in Mexico focused on children, entrepreneurship, and education

For further reading:

*Freeman, M. A., Staudenmaier, P. J., Zisser, M. R., & Andresen, L. A. (2019). The prevalence and co-occurrence of psychiatric conditions among entrepreneurs and their families. Small Business Economics, 53(2), 323–342. DOI: 10.1007/s11187-018-0059-8*

*Hobson, N. M., Schroeder, J., Risen, J. L., Xygalatas, D., & Inzlicht, M. (2018). The psychology of rituals: An integrative review and process-based framework. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 22(3), 260–284. DOI: 10.1177/1088868317734944*

*Wood, W. (2017). Habit in personality and social psychology. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 21(4), 389–403. DOI: 10.1177/1088868317720362*

*Murnieks, C. Y., Arthurs, J. D., Cardon, M. S., Farah, N., Stornelli, J., & Haynie, J. M. (2020). Close your eyes or open your mind: Effects of sleep and mindfulness exercises on entrepreneurs’ exhaustion. Journal of Business Venturing, 35(2), 105918. DOI: 10.1016/j.jbusvent.2018.12.004*

• Putting out fires is not the same as fixing them

• The founder who checks everything is not being responsible. They are becoming the bottleneck

• TAPPPP is not a planning framework. It is a diagnostic that tells you which thread to pull first

• Emergency systems do not announce when they fail. They become normal

• Knowing which dimension is broken completely changes what you do tomorrow

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

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🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

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The Day I Became the Problem

We were losing clients and I could not understand why.

The proposals were going out. The pricing was there. But something was not landing. When I sat down to review how the sales team was building quotations, I saw the problem: they were only looking at costs and adding a margin. No market analysis. No reflection of the additional savings WAYAKIT delivers to the client. The entire value proposition was missing from the number.

So, I pulled everything toward me. Not out of control. Out of urgency. We could not keep sending proposals that were not properly built.

It worked, partially. I started seeing things I had not seen before. Where the real friction was. Why clients were not reacting. What needed to change. I adjusted it. Refined it. And in that process, I learned something valuable about how WAYAKIT communicates its value.

But once I fixed it, I kept doing it myself. Without building a mechanism for it to run without me.

Within weeks, the sales team could not send quotations on time. The pricing improved. The agility collapsed. And I was repeating the same task over and over, becoming the single point everything had to go through.

I had not solved the proposal problem. I had dug my own hole.

The Fire That Keeps Coming Back

What I experienced with WAYAKIT’s quotations was not a delegation mistake. It was a diagnosis mistake.

I identified the symptom and applied the fastest available solution. But I never asked what actually mattered:

What is failing in the system that is producing this problem?

This is what founders do in chaos. Not because we are bad operators. Because chaos rewards speed, not clarity.

Putting out fires feels like solving. And sometimes it is. But when the same fire comes back three weeks later, somewhere else in the business, wearing a different face, the question is no longer how to put it out faster.

The question is what is lighting it.

Ken Rutkowski describes this in When the Founder Becomes the Bottleneck: bottlenecks do not announce themselves. They accumulate. The team stops deciding and starts asking. Nothing breaks all at once. Everything just moves slower.

Matt Gray goes one layer deeper, Everyone is Exhausted. Here’s Why It’s Not Burnout (Founder OS): exhaustion does not come from doing too much. It comes from being too many things at once. When you are the system, you do not just become the operational bottleneck. You become the highest energy cost in the business.

A system always produces something, whether you designed it or not. The hidden output of mine was dependency.

In the Foundational Paper 000 in Aziul Connections, I wrote about Donella Meadows’ definition: a system is a set of interconnected elements organized to achieve something. What Meadows points to, and what I learned the expensive way, is that the real purpose of a system is not always the one you think you built.

My quotation system had a declared purpose: improve quality. Its real purpose, the one it reliably produced, was centralization around me.

What TAPPPP Asks When You Are Already Mid-Air

When I hit the limit, I did not sit down to write a strategic plan. I did what I always do when something starts draining my life: I stopped. And I asked what was actually failing.

TAPPPP is not a framework for when you have time and clarity. It is a diagnostic for when you are already mid-air and need to know which thread to pull first.

Six questions. One per dimension. I do not apply them to the whole business. I apply them to the specific system that is failing.

Time: Does this system give me time back, or consume it every time I activate it?

Adaptability: Does it still work when I am not there, when the team changes, when the context shifts?

Purpose: Does this system serve the business, or does it serve my need for control?

People: Does it strengthen the people inside it, or make them dependent on me?

Planet: What resources, energy, or capacity is it consuming that it should not?

Prosperity: Can it sustain itself without my constant intervention, or does it collapse when I step away?

When I applied these questions to my quotation system, the answer was the same across five of the six filters: no.

I did not need more discipline. I needed to redesign one thing.

I was taking on debt to buy my freedom back later.

With a data science intern, we built an intelligent pricing system that automated the logic I had been applying manually. Quotations went out on time. Pricing reflected WAYAKIT’s real value. And I stopped being the system.

In Experiment 001 — The Continuity Floor, I documented what happens when this diagnostic is applied not only to a business process, but to a person’s full ability to keep operating under friction. The conclusion was the same:

Motivation fails exactly when you need it most. Structure does not.

The Thread You Need to Pull Today

Right now, there is a fire in your business that keeps coming back. You know it. You have probably put it out twice this week already.

Before you put it out a third time, take that specific system and run it through the six filters. Not to build a plan. To see which dimension is broken.

Matt Gray frames it from another angle: The One Choice That Will Determine Your Next 10 Years (Founder OS): the next ten years of your business are defined by what you remove, not what you add. A system-oriented founder does not do more. They identify what is failing and redesign only that.

One broken dimension can collapse everything else. But once you see it, you know exactly what to change.

The question is not how to work faster.

It is what your current system is producing right now, whether you intended it or not.

What is the fire you have put out the most this month?

Tell me in the comments. What you name, you can begin to design.

Subscribe to the experiment. You are not alone in this.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

Subscribe now

About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of **Aziul Connections.**

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, share it or leave a comment if you find this information useful!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn · Instagram · Facebook · Snapchat · TikTok

Sources:

***Meadows, D. H. (2008), “Thinking in Systems: A Primer,” Chelsea Green Publishing.***

***Rutkowski, K. (2026), “When the Founder Becomes the Bottleneck,” Command and Scale, Substack.***

***Gray, M. (2026), “Everyone is Exhausted. Here’s Why It’s Not Burnout,” Founder OS, Substack.***

***Gray, M. (2026), “The One Choice That Will Determine Your Next 10 Years,” Founder OS, Substack.***

• In the GCC, your tap water feels free. It costs 25x more energy to run than water almost anywhere else on Earth.

• The UN just declared water bankruptcy. Not a crisis. Something worse.

• 300,000 barrels of oil burned daily: just to make Saudi Arabia’s drinking water.

• 30 billion liters of wudu water flow every day. Most of the world doesn’t see the cost.

• You don’t need guilt. You need the right lenses. Here they are.

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

Subscribe now

🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

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Every morning I open the tap in my kitchen in KAUST.

The water comes out clear, instant, unremarkable. My son fills his glass. I start the coffee. The day begins. You probably do the same thing, wherever you are. The tap opens. The water runs. The day takes over.

What neither of us sees is the machine behind it.

The ritual you already know. Here is the cost behind it.

In the last article in this series, I measured the wudu, or the cleaning ritual Muslims do before prayer. The prophetic mudd — 0.6 liters — the amount the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, used for ritual purification. I asked what would happen if we applied that standard to a region where water does not exist in nature. Where every drop that comes out of your tap was once salt water pulled from the Red Sea or the Arabian Gulf, forced through membranes under enormous pressure, and delivered to your home through infrastructure that consumes a significant portion of this country’s daily energy production.

That article quantified the ritual. This one quantifies the cost.

There are 1.8 billion Muslims in the world, and most perform wudu at least three times a day. At the prophetic minimum of 0.6 liters per ablution, that is over 3 billion liters of water used for wudu alone, every single day. But in the previous article we found that most people use, on average, 10x more water, meaning 30 billion liters of water!

This is the equivalent amount of water of 12,000 olympic swimming pools of water every single day! To be honest, I don’t want to go over the annual calculation.

Most of that water in different parts of the world comes from rivers, reservoirs, and groundwater. It falls from the sky. It costs almost nothing to produce.

Here in the Gulf, it does not fall from the sky. 83% of the population of the Middle East and North Africa already lives under severe water scarcity. The Middle East operates 41.8% of the world’s entire desalination capacity. Qatar gets 99% of its drinking water from desalination. Kuwait and Bahrain, 90%. Oman, 86%. Saudi Arabia, 70% and UAE, 42%.

The world is no longer in a water crisis. It is in water bankruptcy.

In January 2026, the United Nations made something official that scientists had been building toward for years: global water bankruptcy.

The language matters. A crisis implies recovery. Bankruptcy implies irreversibility — systems that have been overdrawn past the point of return. Kaveh Madani, Director of the UN University Institute for Water, Environment and Health, put it plainly: for much of the world, normal is gone. Andrew Curry, writing in Just Two Things, captured the distinction precisely: the checking account is empty, and the savings account is being drained.

“For much of the world, normal is gone.” — Kaveh Madani, Director, UN University Institute for Water, Environment and Health

What does that mean for someone living in a place where normal never included fresh water to begin with?

It means the invisible cost was always there. We just never had a word for what happens when the bill finally comes due.

The number that changes how you see every tap

Here is the number I want you to remember. I worked it out during my Ph.D. in water desalination.

Producing one cubic meter of drinking water through seawater desalination in the Middle East requires approximately 5 kilowatt-hours of energy for a full plant at Gulf salinity levels. Treating the same cubic meter from a conventional surface water source requires roughly 0.2 kilowatt-hours.

That is a ratio of 25 times more energy. Per cubic meter. Every day. For every person in this region whose water arrives with no alternative.

Saudi Arabia consumes around 300,000 barrels of oil daily just to run its desalination plants — approximately 20 percent of the country’s total oil production. Not to power cities or factories. To manufacture the water that comes out of your tap.

When you open that tap, you are not turning on water. You are turning on an industrial process with no equivalent anywhere else on the planet.

Why your brain tells you water is free — and why that is the problem

I call this the lens problem.

The water looks the same. It feels the same. It costs almost nothing on your monthly bill, because governments here heavily subsidize the real price of production. So your brain registers it as free. Or close to it.

But the scientist in me cannot unsee what is behind it.

I have a thought experiment I shared recently that I cannot stop thinking about: what if, instead of water coming out of that tap, you could see what actually produced it? Not liters. Energy units. The barrel fractions. The infrastructure cost of manufacturing something that falls freely from the sky almost everywhere else in the world. Twenty-five times the energy of water that simply exists. Made invisible by a subsidized bill and a tap that always works.

“Most people who waste water are not careless. They are simply not wearing the right lenses.”

The one thing you can do before the water runs

So here is what I am asking.

The next time you open a tap — whether you are here in the Gulf, in Mexico City where the aquifer beneath the streets is collapsing at 25 centimeters per year, or anywhere else on this planet that the UN has now formally declared water bankrupt — take three seconds before the water runs.

Think about what it cost to get there.

Clarity, not guilt. Seeing, not alarm.

The world will not solve water bankruptcy through fear. It will solve it through people who finally see what the system has been hiding in plain sight. The invisible cost of water is only invisible because no one has handed you the lenses yet.

Now with this article, you have them.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

Subscribe now

About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of **Aziul Connections.**

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, share it or leave a comment if you find this information useful!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn · Instagram · Facebook · Snapchat · TikTok

This is the second article in the World Water Day series at Aziul Connections. The first, Field Observation 004: The 0.6 Liter Water Rule, introduced the Mudd Test as a framework for measuring water use against its real constraints.

Sources:

*Center for Strategic and International Studies (2026). “Could Iran Disrupt the Gulf Countries’ Desalinated Water Supplies?” CSIS.*

*IEA (2026), “Wired for water: How electrification is transforming desalination”*

*Just Two Things by Andrew Curry, “4 February 2026: Water | AI”*

*Madani, K. (2026), Global Water Bankruptcy: Living Beyond Our Hydrological Means in the Post-Crisis Era, United Nations University Institute for Water, Environment and Health. DOI: 10.53328/INR26KAM001*

*Park et al. (2020), “A comprehensive review of energy consumption of seawater reverse osmosis desalination plants,” Applied Energy 254, 113652. DOI: 10.1016/j.apenergy.2019.113652*

*Plappally and Lienhard (2012), “Energy requirements for water production, treatment, end use, reclamation, and disposal,” Renewable and Sustainable Energy Reviews 16(7), 4818–4848. DOI: 10.1016/j.rser.2012.05.022*

• A forgotten 0.6L vessel holds one key to global water conservation

• Muslims use up to 10L per wudu. The Prophet used 0.6L. The gap costs billions

• Abundance makes you forget the setpoint. Scarcity teaches you precision

• WAYAKIT saved 5M liters using the same principle: minimum viable resource

• The Mudd Test: What’s the gap between what you use and what’s actually enough?

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

If you want to learn how to apply systems to build a successful, peaceful, and conscious life, subscribe to the lab.

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🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

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Nobody knows what a mudd is.

I learned that the hard way, standing in the old market of Madinah, holding up a picture on my phone and asking shopkeeper after shopkeeper if they had one. Most looked at me with polite confusion. A few thought I was looking for mud, the dirt kind. One man pointed me toward the souvenir section near the back of his shop, where I finally found it: a small copper vessel, stamped with the words “Prophetic Mudd” and “Madina Souvenir,” sitting between decorative prayer beads and miniature mosque replicas.

A decorative object. Its original purpose, apparently, forgotten.

I bought it. I held it in my hand. And I kept thinking about the conversation that had sent me searching for it in the first place.

The gathering

It started the way most important things in my life start: not in a lab, not in a boardroom, but in a regular conversation with a friend.

Nora Al Jindi had just come back from UK. She had spent time at the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies with Professor Shahid Jameel, a biochemist who spent decades studying viruses before turning his research toward something that puzzled him more: why Muslim societies, despite having one of the richest ethical frameworks around resource stewardship in history, were struggling so much with environmental practice.

His work sits at the intersection of faith-based sustainability and applied climate science, a combination that almost nobody in mainstream sustainability discourse is taking seriously enough.

Nora mentioned his work on water. Specifically, on a daily ritual that 1.8 billion Muslims on Earth perform up to five times a day.

And then she said the number.

I want to pause here because something about that moment matters beyond the data. Two women in Saudi Arabia, one Saudi, another Mexican, sitting together in an ordinary gathering, passing knowledge that had not traveled through any formal institutional channel. No conference. No journal. No policy brief. A professor in Oxford had documented the research, a woman named Nora had attended his lecture, and she brought it to me. That is how this information moved. The World Water Day 2026 theme — “Where Water Flows, Equality Grows (Water and Gender)” — carries a quiet truth that I recognized in that room: water knowledge, like water itself, does not reach everyone equally.

I asked her to introduce me to the professor. I needed to understand it. More than that, I needed to share it.

What happens five times a day

Before every prayer, Muslims perform a ritual purification called wudu, or ablution. A precise sequence: washing the hands, rinsing the mouth and nose, washing the face, washing the arms up to the elbows, wiping the head, cleaning the ears, washing the feet. Each step has a specific order and intention behind it. Not a shower. A designed ritual, with defined inputs and a clear purpose: to arrive at prayer in a state of physical and spiritual cleanliness.

Hadith from Sahih al-Bukhari records that the Prophet Muhammad dedicated an entire chapter of his guidance to the act of performing ablution: its steps, its limits, and its relationship to waste. The chapter title is explicit: performing ablution with one Mudd of water. Prophet Muhammad water conservation was never vague. It was measured.

Most people who are not Muslim have never heard of wudu. Most Muslims have never questioned how much water it actually requires.

I converted a few years ago. I came to the faith as a water scientist, which meant I asked a lot of questions about what the tradition actually prescribed in terms of Islamic water conservation. How many repetitions for each step? What exactly counts as clean? What is the correct sequence?

What I never thought to ask was: how much water is enough?

I was doing it with the tap fully open. Water running the whole time. Three passes for each body part. I assumed that was what the ritual required, because nobody had told me otherwise, and because in the mosques of Madinah, where I have gone for prayer, everyone around me seemed to be using at least as much. Tap water running freely, the sound of it constant, the sense that water was the one thing in infinite supply.

In Saudi Arabia, water scarcity is easy to forget because it rarely shows up in daily life. I had absorbed that sense of effortless abundance without questioning it. The system had trained me to treat conservation as an anomaly, not the default.

The 0.6-liter shock: a forgotten measurement with modern consequences

A mudd is a unit of measurement from the time of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. Roughly 0.6 liters. About the size of a large coffee cup.

But how much water is spent in wudu today?

Research published across multiple peer-reviewed studies tells us what most Muslims actually use today. A comprehensive 2017 study in Applied Water Science by Zaeid analyzed water use and time during ablution from taps, finding that more than 20% of ablution water is used for washing of feet and the largest water waste occurs during washing of face portions.

Numbers across studies range from 3 liters to 10 liters per session depending on location and method. For example, there is comprehensive PhD thesis by researcher Alia Alawi “Water demand management in mosques in Oman”. Participants using a modern tap averaged 7 liters per session.

The mudd specification (0.6 liters) was never just a religious guideline. It was a systems design principle built for scarcity, one that fourteen centuries later still works precisely because it was designed for the constraint, not despite it.

But I did not arrive at that understanding through the faith alone. I came to it through two education systems that should have been connected from the start: the scientific training that taught me to measure water rigorously, and the lived reality of a country where water scarcity is not an abstraction but a daily calculation for millions of women I never had to see growing up.

What privilege and science taught me that I had to learn differently

I grew up in Mexico, in a middle-upper class family. Water came from the tap. I did not carry it. I did not wait for it. I did not pay for it with hours of my day.

But I knew that was not the reality of my country.

In Mexico, 57% of the population lack access to safe water by WHO standards. Much of the work required to secure and manage water in Mexico is carried by women, often through unpaid and unseen labor. In Mexico City’s lower-income neighborhoods, women spend between one and four hours per week hauling water or managing intermittent supply. In some communities, researchers have documented more than two hours per day. Among the poorest households, more than 60% of the water burden falls on women.

I did not grow up carrying water. But the women who did were in my country, in my lifetime, doing it every day while I studied science and engineering.

When I chose to dedicate my PhD to water desalination, I was not responding to personal scarcity. I was responding to professional responsibility. A scientist who understands the system cannot pretend the system is neutral. Water scarcity in Mexico is not a weather problem, it is a design problem. And one that falls hardest on the bodies of women who had no say in the design.

That is why the mudd is not a historical curiosity, but a systems specification with human consequences.

The mudd matters beyond religion and beyond chemistry for exactly this reason. A design solution that makes water go further does not just solve a technical problem. It returns hours to the people who could not afford to waste them in the first place.

What the broken signal costs

In January 2026, the United Nations University declared that the world has entered an era of “Global Water Bankruptcy”. The report, led by hydrology researcher Kaveh Madani, was deliberate in its language. Not a crisis, which implies something temporary. Bankruptcy, a structural failure of the ledger, where spending has permanently outpaced income.

The 2026 World Water Day theme, “Where Water Flows, Equality Grows,” chose its framing because the data demands it. Women spend 250 million hours per day globally collecting water, more than three times the burden carried by men. Over a billion women lack safely managed drinking water. Girls are nearly twice as likely as boys to be tasked with fetching it. Water scarcity has never been gender-neutral.

Here is what most people do not realize about water scarcity in Saudi Arabia specifically. The water-energy nexus here is extreme: producing fresh water costs roughly 25 times more energy than in most Western countries, because almost all of it comes from desalination.

The kingdom consumes roughly 300,000 barrels of oil per day to run its desalination infrastructure. When the price signal at the tap does not reflect that reality, behavior follows the broken signal instead.

Arjun Gidwani traces this in his piece on hydrostrategic realities, what water costs to produce and what people actually pay for it are two completely different numbers. That gap is not an accident of policy. It is the signal the system sends every time someone turns on a tap.

My PhD is in water desalination at KAUST. I know the cost of a liter of water in this region not as a number on a bill but as a thermodynamic calculation. Every liter wasted here is energy. Carbon. A cost the planet absorbs invisibly while the person at the tap feels nothing.

Researchers at KAUST’s Information Science Lab quantified exactly what this costs in the context of wudu water conservation. Their Smart-Tap AI project found that Saudi Arabia wastes approximately 8.4 billion liters annually due to inefficient ablution practices. Their AI-powered faucet, designed to match the mudd specification, could save 3.32 billion liters per year in Saudi Arabia alone, representing $81.2 million in annual savings. A water-energy nexus argument with a dollar figure attached.

In Islamic ethics, this is called israf, the prohibition of waste that runs through the Quran as a consistent principle. The role of humanity as khalifah, steward of the Earth, appears explicitly in Quran 6:165, and 35:39. The faith named this problem, quantified it, and provided the measurement tool. The abandonment of the mudd was not theological. It was behavioral. And behavior follows the signals a system sends.

The same principle, a parking lot and a washing machine in your pocket

I co-founded WAYAKIT in 2020 with two simple engineering questions: how to wash clothes without using water? how do you wash a car in a desert without using water?

The instinct came from scientific training, from years studying desalination at KAUST, from understanding precisely what it costs in energy terms to produce every liter flowing from a Saudi tap. The constraint-driven innovation approach, using the minimum viable amount to achieve the purpose, was not a compromise position. It was the design standard.

WAYAKIT’s laundry spray has saved over 5 million liters of water since 2020. The waterless car wash service at KAUST has saved an additional liters and counting. No sacrifice. No asking anyone to give anything up. A product that does the job with less, by design.

The Green Techpreneur has been documenting how Latin American climate founders are building constraint-first companies and the pattern is consistent: the founders who grew up with less built the more efficient systems.

The mudd and the spray bottle are the same idea, separated by fourteen centuries, a portable washing machine and a parking lot.

The question nobody asks at the river

Professor Jameel’s presentation included a Hadith I have not stopped thinking about since.

The Prophet passed by Sa’d while Sa’d was performing his purification ritual. The Prophet said: “What is this extravagance?” Sa’d replied: “Can there be any extravagance in ablution?” The Prophet said: “Yes, even if you are on the bank of a flowing river.”

Abundance does not change the setpoint. The system has a correct value regardless of how much supply surrounds you. Waste remains waste whether you are in a desert or standing in a river. The resource is not the point. The design is.

For many women in places like Oaxaca in Mexico, where getting water can take hours each day, “enough” is not an abstract idea. It is arithmetic.

The mudd was never only a religious detail. It was a practical limit designed for people who live with constraint.

And yet I found that limit in Madinah as a souvenir: a “Prophetic Mudd” displayed between prayer beads, its original function reduced to decoration.

The Mudd Test

I believe a good field observation changes something in your own operation. Here is the tool I want to leave you with.

Pick one resource your work runs on. Water, time, meeting hours, packaging, energy, or money. Ask three questions.

1. How much are we actually using per unit of output?

2. What is the minimum amount that achieves the same purpose?

3. What is the gap between those two numbers costing us annually?

A founder I know calculated that her team was spending 6 hours per week in alignment meetings. The minimum to actually stay aligned turned out to be 45 minutes. The gap was costing her roughly 250 hours of productive work per quarter, invisible because nobody had ever named it as a resource with a setpoint.

A supply chain operator discovered his company was using 340 grams of packaging per unit shipped. The minimum that protected the product without returns was 190 grams. The gap was costing him $180,000 annually in materials alone, on top of the environmental cost he had stopped calculating because the budget absorbed it without complaint.

Neither of them had a water problem. Both of them had a mudd problem.

That gap is the hidden inefficiency. Invisible because the price signal never made you feel it, and because nobody gave it a name before now. The mudd named it 1,400 years ago. The number was 0.6 liters.

What is yours?

The women carrying water in Mexico’s lower-income neighborhoods could answer without hesitation. They know the minimum because they live with the constraint. The question for the rest of us is whether we design our systems with that precision before water scarcity forces the calculation on us, or after.

What comes next

This is Field Observation 004 in the Sustainable Systems Lab’s World Water Day 2026 series.

The next piece looks at the planetary cost of this broken setpoint at scale. What happens when you multiply 0.6 liters by 1.8 billion people, five times a day, 365 days a year, in regions where every liter costs 25 times more energy to produce, and where the UN has already declared us officially bankrupt. The numbers are not comfortable. They do point toward something actionable.

If the Mudd Test surfaces something real in your operation, leave it in the comments. I read every one.

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Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

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About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of **Aziul Connections.**

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, and if this sparked a “Mudd Test” in your own life or work, share this article.

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/luisajavier/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/luisa.emi

Snapchat: https://www.snapchat.com/@luisaemijavier

• Global uncertainty creates quiet, collective tension

• Motivation fails when you need it most

• The Continuity Floor protects the mission with a structural minimum

• The Friction-Sustain Protocol keeps operations running when the world feels heavy

• Motivation is fair-weather. Structure is lifelong

👋 Hi, it’s Luisa Javier. Welcome to Aziul Connections ( 🌎🔬The Sustainable Systems Lab), where I study how sustainable systems are built for business, leadership, and life.

Subscribe to watch what happens when you study systems instead of chasing motivation. In Aziul Connections you will find real experiments from someone building between two continents during uncertain times.

🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

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As a Mexican doing business and residing in Saudi Arabia, February 2026 was a challenging month. One of the most wanted cartel chiefs was executed, sparking violence across my country. In that same period, war broke out between Iran, Israel, and the USA.

To be honest, I felt quite down the past couple of weeks. I thought I was alone in this feeling. But then I had four separate conversations with friends and colleagues here in Saudi Arabia. None were about the same topic, yet all carried the same weight. That quiet hum of uncertainty.

If you live in the Middle East right now, you probably know the feeling. Not panic. Not even fear. Just the subtle weight of not knowing what comes next.

Periods of uncertainty reveal something most of us forget during stable times: motivation is unreliable. When life becomes heavy — geopolitics, personal crises, business pressure — the ability to keep moving rarely comes from inspiration. It comes from structure.

In this article I want to share one of the most important systems I have learned through experience:

How to build routines that continue working even when you do not feel capable of maintaining them.

The Environmental Variables: Saudi Arabia’s Quiet Tension

As a reminder, I am building the Sustainable Systems Lab. Through the Experimental section, I document the experiments I use to test the systems I put in place to keep working.

This is the first variable of my experiment: Environmental Friction. It is what happens when external pressure meets limited internal capacity. Psychologists call this “collective angst“ — the worry a group feels about its future when conditions become threatening, spreading through proximity and shared identity.

The climate psychologist Britt Wray writes in her Substack that collective anxiety often spreads long before people consciously recognize it. Entire communities can carry a low level tension without anyone explicitly naming it.

You still have responsibilities. You still have a company to run, a child to raise, people depending on you. But your emotional bandwidth shrinks. Your attention fragments. Your body wants to stop even when your calendar says otherwise.

As a founder-operator, I am treating myself as the primary sensor in this environment to answer one question:

When the collective energy drops, where does the individual find the floor?

The Hypothesis: Systems vs. Motivation

In my Sustainable Systems Lab, I define a system as a structure that lets something keep functioning without you having to hold it together by hand.

My Hypothesis: Motivation is an unreliable variable that fails exactly when it is most needed. A sustainable system, however, acts as a floor that carries continuity when emotions fluctuate.

In this experiment, I am testing whether a system built in calm times can carry an operator through friction times without consuming the person running it.

The Architecture of Resilience

Here is the simplest way I know to explain how a sustainable system holds you up when you cannot hold yourself together.

Every functional system (whether a thermostat, a supply chain, or a founder’s daily routine) needs three things:

1. The Sensor: Something that detects when conditions change

2. The Setpoint: A target state it is trying to return to

3. The Actuator: A mechanism that forces movement back toward that target.

When motivation fails, our internal detector gets overwhelmed. We feel the weight but lose the capacity to respond to it. The system stalls.

To prevent that stall, I built the TAPPPP framework as what I call the Continuity Floor. It is not a productivity tool. It is a structural minimum. Six filters that keep the mission functional even when the person running it is depleted.

The six filters are Time, Adaptability, Purpose, People, Planet, and Prosperity.

• Time is about building routines that run without you having to decide to do them each morning.

• Adaptability is designing structures that bend under pressure instead of breaking.

• Purpose is the clarity filter that closes the mental open loops and tells you where to point your attention.

• People is the recognition that you do not carry weight alone.

• Planet and Prosperity ensure the system is grounded in something that generates enough value to keep going without exhausting the person running it.

What matters in a friction period is not mastering all six. It is knowing which filter is the one keeping you functional right now.

The Stress Test: Evidence of a Parallel Structure

To validate the hypothesis that systems override motivation, I look at two distinct experiments from my own life: a personal systemic failure in 2017 and an organizational pivot under extreme environmental friction in 2020.

Experiment A: The 2017 Personal System Failure

In 2017, the environmental friction in my life reached its peak through a total systemic collapse: a coma and a divorce within months. At this point, my personal routines — exercise, prayer, rest — failed almost overnight because they were willpower-dependent. They lacked a structural floor and relied on adrenaline, which is a finite fuel source.

But a parallel structure was running at the same time: my Ph.D. and the early vision for WAYAKIT.

I had zero motivation to finish my doctorate, yet the professional system held. The lab protocols and academic milestones forced movement even when the operator was paralyzed.

To keep this structure from burning out, I practiced the Sunset Protocol. Every evening, I went to the beach to watch the sun go down. This was a Purpose recalibration. It allowed me to close the open loops of my grief and reconnect with the why of my work, acting as a filter for the next day’s decisions.

Experiment B: The 2020 Organizational Pivot (The Weight of Purpose)

The second experiment occurred when COVID-19 introduced a global environmental friction. At WAYAKIT, we had just raised funds for a travel-based laundry spray at the exact moment the world stopped traveling.

I felt like a failure. We had designed something that was suddenly obsolete. At the same time, the friction was not just professional, it was deeply personal. While working 16 to 18 hour days during Ramadan, fasting and exhausted, I received news that my family members in Mexico were passing away. The uncertainty of when I would see them again created a crushing weight.

On the days when grief and anger dominated, I stopped aiming for total productivity. I protected one intentional decision: redirecting our technology.

My motivation did not come from a growth mindset. It came from purpose. My anger at the loss of my family transformed into a mission. If our technology could provide the fastest, safest disinfectant to the market, it had to be done. Purpose became the mechanism that moved the mission forward while everything else was merely adequate.

In both cases, Adaptability allowed the system to bend — from a gym to a hospital corridor, from a laundry spray to an aviation disinfectant — without breaking.

We build the Continuity Floor on good days specifically because we know that on the hard days, motivation will fail us, but the structure will remain.

The Experimental Protocol: The “Friction-Sustain” Parameters

I am currently testing three operational parameters to maintain functionality during high-friction periods. Note: these are tailored to my internal capacity and are not a universal prescription.

Parameter 01: Physiology-Led State Change (Manual Override)

In late 2024, I traveled to New York to attend Tony Robbins’ Unleash the Power Within. I went out of curiosity, but one principle stayed with me: state management.

Robbins’ argument is that you should change your physiology first, and your focus will follow. When the world feels heavy and my internal signals are telling me to stop, I do not try to think my way into a better mood. I move my body — a walk, cold water, stretching.

Behavioral science supports this: repeated physical actions create automatic responses that stop requiring negotiation. By changing the physical state, I manually reset the sensor, allowing my attention to shift and my decisions to change.

Parameter 02: Information Intake Throttling

I am testing a strict limit on news consumption to specific times of day. The writer Catherine Price describes “doomscrolling” as a signal of an overloaded nervous system seeking resolution in a place that cannot provide it. By throttling this intake, I reduce the mental residue left on higher-level decisions.

Parameter 03: Decision Bottlenecking

On heavy days, when friction shrinks my emotional bandwidth, I stop aiming for total productivity. I deliberately allow most of my tasks to be merely adequate so that I can protect one intentional decision that moves the mission forward.

I implemented this parameter when news of the war broke in February 2026. My one intentional decision, my actuator, was the choice to return to **Aziul Connections.**

This was more than just returning to a neglected project. It was a Purpose recalibration. By bottlenecking my focus into this single point of action, I closed the open loops created by the global friction and re-established my clarity filter. This trigger did not just move a task forward. It re-anchored my Continuity Floor, providing the structural confidence required to function when the environment felt entirely unclear.

Analysis: The Quiet Work of Continuity

The preliminary results of this experiment suggest that these systems do not fix the world or resolve geopolitical tension. They simply keep the operator functional. When the collective energy drops, a sustainable system ensures that the Continuity Floor remains high enough that you do not fall into the paralysis I experienced in 2017.

We build these systems on good days specifically because we know that on the hard days, motivation will fail us.

Motivation is a fair-weather friend. Structure is a lifelong partner.

Coda: The Blue Floor

I chose the name Aziul for my lab because it is “Azul” — the deep, stable blue of our planet, combined with my own name, Luisa, reversed. It represents the stability I am trying to build: a structure that holds your weight when the world feels heavy.

In February 2026, the world felt heavy. But because of the Friction-Sustain parameters, the mission did not stop. I did not need to feel inspired to move forward. I just needed to trust the structure.

The goal of the Sustainable Systems Lab is to ensure that your floor is never again dependent on how you feel when you wake up.

The question I want to leave with you:

What is the one structure you are building right now that will hold your weight when the atmosphere shifts? Reply to this article. I read every response.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections (The Sustainable Systems Lab)

Public lab studying sustainable systems across business, leadership, and life. Essays, experiments, field observations and case studies from a climate-tech founder (Dr. Luisa Javier) operating between LATAM and MENA. Aziul = Azul (the planet) + Luisa (backwards)

About the author - Dr. Luisa Javier

Dr. Luisa Javier is a scientist and climate-tech entrepreneur across LATAM & MENA, focused on designing sustainable systems for business and society. She is the Founder and CEO of WAYAKIT Group and the author of **Aziul Connections.**

Aziul Connections is the public lab where I study how sustainable systems are built.

“I build sustainable living through WAYAKIT, and study the systems behind it through Aziul Connections.”

Thank you for reading or listening to this article, let’s keep building our Continuity floor, one system at a time!

Luisa

Connect with me

📩 luisa@aziulconnections.com

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/luisajavier/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/luisa.emi

Snapchat: https://www.snapchat.com/@luisaemijavier

🎧 Listen to Luisa read this article

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Why this essay exists

People keep asking me a version of the same question:

“How do you do it, Luisa?”

How do you balance motherhood, purpose, leadership, and the daily execution of building something real, without burning out or losing yourself?

For a long time, I answered with stories: I prioritize. I plan. I delegate. I pray. I adapt. All true. Still incomplete.

Because the more I tried to explain it, the more I realized I wasn’t describing a set of habits.

I was describing a method I’d been using for years without naming it.

I rely on systems. Not perfection. Not rigid routines. Systems that lower future effort, clear mental space, and keep things moving when life changes shape.

And since my work is rooted in sustainability (scientifically, operationally, and spiritually), I couldn’t talk about systems without asking the real question:

What makes them sustainable?

This essay is the foundation of everything I’ll publish here: the definition, the framework, and the lens I’ll use to document my own systems, and interview others about theirs.

What a “system” is

For most of my life, I didn’t use the word system. I just built them.

I built systems to study when I was a student, not because I was more disciplined than others, but because writing things down meant I could find things later without spending energy re-creating them. I built systems to manage my time when I was working full-time while studying.

Later, I built systems to run a biotechnology company across continents, where decisions had to keep moving even when I was asleep in another time zone.

Operating between Latin America and the Middle East made the gap impossible to ignore. In Mexico, trust runs through proximity. In Saudi Arabia, it runs through hierarchy, protocol, and long-term institutional alignment. When time zones and leadership norms pull execution apart, you either become the bottleneck, or you build structures that translate intent into action without your constant presence.

I didn’t see it clearly at the time, but what I was building was infrastructure, not of machines, but of continuity.

A system isn’t a checklist. It’s a structure that lets something keep functioning without you having to hold it together by hand.

Systems scientist Donella Meadows, in Thinking in Systems, defines a system as:

an interconnected set of elements organized in a way that achieves something.

She highlights three essential components:

• Elements: the visible parts

• Interconnections: how those parts influence one another

• Purpose: what the system is designed to produce

That last part is the one that changes everything. Systems always produce something, whether you intended it or not. And once you take that seriously, you start seeing your life and your business differently:

• A calendar system produces either clarity or overwhelm.

• A leadership system produces either autonomy or dependence.

• A business system produces either scalability or constant firefighting.

You can’t judge a system by how busy it looks. You judge it by what it reliably produces over time.

I understood this most clearly as WAYAKIT began to grow.

In the early years, I personally reviewed pricing decisions, technical validations, and operational approvals. At first, it felt like the responsible thing to do. But over time, something became obvious: the company wasn’t scaling at the speed of opportunity. It was scaling at the speed of my attention.

The hidden output of the system was dependence. So we changed the interconnections. We built pricing logic into tools. We documented decision frameworks. We created feedback loops so information could move without needing to pass through me every single time.

Nothing visibly “dramatic” happened overnight. But the output changed. Decisions sped up. Teams gained autonomy. And my role shifted from being the system itself to being the architect of it.

That’s what systems thinking did for me.

It moved me from asking:

What should I do next?

to asking:

What structure would make this work without me?

This is about continuity. It isn’t about doing more. It’s about designing conditions where the right things keep happening.

This newsletter exists to make those invisible structures visible, to understand the systems already shaping our lives, and to build new ones with intent.

Because once you start seeing systems, you realize something quietly unsettling:

You were never managing tasks. You were managing the structures that produce them.

What “sustainable” means here

I use “sustainable” in two layers: world sustainability and personal sustainability.

In its most widely accepted global meaning, the United Nations (via the Brundtland Commission) defines sustainable development as meeting present needs without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.

In business language, John Elkington popularized the “triple bottom line,” often summarized as people, planet, profit (sometimes phrased as prosperity).

That world definition shaped my professional work. It sits behind WAYAKIT, behind my research in water sustainability, and behind every product we’ve brought to market.

But scaling across MENA and LATAM taught me something practical: systems that work beautifully in one environment can break in another. Regulations differ. Resource constraints differ. Even the meaning of urgency differs.

A system that worked in a lab in Saudi Arabia had to survive manufacturing realities in Mexico. A pricing model designed for industrial clients had to adapt to completely different market expectations across regions.

So sustainability, in practice, became about designing systems that could survive translation, across geography, culture, and infrastructure, without losing their core purpose.

And long before I used the word “sustainability” professionally, I was searching for it personally.

Because I learned, sometimes gently, sometimes through collapse, that a system can be efficient and still not be sustainable.

In 2017, parts of my personal life collapsed in ways I couldn’t control. For the first time, the systems that had always given me stability weren’t enough. And yet, the professional systems I had built, the routines of showing up, the structure of purpose, the discipline of execution, became the framework that helped me rebuild.

That experience rewired my definition. Sustainability stopped being only about environmental impact. It became about whether something could continue without destroying the person carrying it.

So for this newsletter, “sustainable” also means:

It keeps working without consuming the person running it.

Behavioral research shows that habits become automatic responses triggered by stable contexts, reducing the mental effort required to act.

Cognitive science further demonstrates that humans naturally “offload” thinking onto external systems (notes, tools, processes) to free cognitive capacity for higher-level decisions.

I’ve lived that.

Since high school, I developed systems for documenting information (first in notebooks, later digitally), so I could retrieve decisions, insights, and commitments without relying on memory alone.

In business, building pricing systems, operational frameworks, and decision protocols allowed me to scale WAYAKIT across continents without being present in every decision.

Each system, once built, gave something back: time, clarity, and mental space.

This is the bridge between personal and global sustainability. A sustainable system doesn’t only reduce environmental harm.

It reduces internal friction.

It doesn’t only protect future generations. It protects your ability to keep showing up. It allows value to persist beyond a single moment of effort.

So in Aziul Connections, I use the word sustainable in its fullest sense:

A system is sustainable when it sustains you, sustains others, and sustains value beyond you.

It serves people. It respects the planet. It sustains prosperity.

And just as important, it protects the resource that makes everything else possible:

your energy to continue building.

My definition of a sustainable system

This is the working definition I will refine publicly over time; through building companies, navigating life, and learning from others who have done the same:

A sustainable system is an interconnected set of elements, relationships, and rules designed to fulfill a purpose. It continues to function reliably over time by protecting the operator’s attention and energy, adapting to change, and generating net-positive value for people, planet, and prosperity.

What makes a system sustainable isn’t only that it continues. It’s how it continues, and what it preserves in the process.

Over time, I noticed that every system in my life, whether it’s managing information, leading a company, or protecting time with my son, has to satisfy two layers at once: one internal, one external.

The internal sustainability layer answers:

• Does it make execution repeatable without draining my mental and emotional energy?

• Does it allow decisions to happen without renegotiating them every day?

• Does it reduce friction instead of multiplying it?

• Does it create space for focus, creativity, and presence?

The best systems I’ve built do exactly that. Once they’re in place, they stop demanding attention. They keep continuity running quietly in the background, so I can expand into new challenges instead of maintaining old ones.

And the external sustainability layer answers:

• Does it create value without exporting hidden costs to other people, the environment, or the future?

• Does it empower others, or make them dependent?

• Does it preserve resources, or quietly deplete them?

• Does it scale responsibly, or accumulate invisible fragility?

This is where personal systems thinking meets global sustainability, because the same principle shows up at every scale.

A business model that requires constant human exhaustion is not sustainable. A leadership structure that centralizes every decision is not sustainable. A product that solves one problem while damaging ecosystems is not sustainable.

True sustainability exists where continuity, adaptability, and value align.

This definition now shapes how I design everything, from how WAYAKIT operates across continents, to how I protect time for reflection, to how I structure this newsletter itself.

Because ultimately, systems determine not only what we produce, but what we preserve. And once you see that, you stop optimizing for output alone. You start designing for endurance.

Now I can explain the framework behind it.

The Aziul TAPPPP framework

(Time, Adaptability, Purpose, People, Planet, Prosperity)

I evaluate every system through six filters: three that sustain the operator, and three that sustain the world. I use the acronym TAPPPP because it’s easy enough to remember, sharp enough to reveal what’s true, and flexible enough to apply across business, leadership, and life.

Internal sustainability filters

1. Time (T)

A sustainable system gives time back. Not by squeezing more minutes out of a day, but by reducing future effort through repeatability and automaticity.

That logic is supported by habit research: repetition in stable contexts can make behaviors increasingly automatic, which means they require less deliberation and less cognitive cost.

2. Adaptability (A)

A sustainable system doesn’t require perfect conditions. It still works when life changes.

In ecology, resilience is defined as the ability of a system to absorb disturbance and still maintain its core function. It doesn’t freeze. It adjusts.

I’ve seen this in my own life.

There were seasons when my schedule was predictable, and systems were easy to maintain. And then there were moments when everything changed at once: moving countries, becoming a mother, building a company from research, navigating personal loss. In those moments, rigid systems didn’t survive. The flexible ones did.

The systems that held weren’t the most complex. They were the simplest. They could shrink when needed, pause without breaking, and restart without drama.

A sustainable system isn’t one that never changes. It’s one that continues to support you, even when everything else shifts.

3. Purpose (P)

A sustainable system serves the mission, not the ego of the system.

This is where many high-achievers get trapped: they become loyal to structure instead of outcome. The system turns into something you serve, instead of something that serves you.

In this newsletter, a system is only “good” if it protects your ability to move toward what matters most. And the signal I watch for is mental space.

When your mind keeps reopening the same loops, you don’t expand, you fragment. Research on task switching shows that attention can “linger” on the previous task, reducing performance on the next one. Designing closure and boundaries isn’t aesthetic. It’s functional.

These three internal filters helped me build companies, navigate crises, and protect my attention. I also learned something else over time: not everything needs to be systematized. If something gets stuck again and again, I let it move. I structure what makes life easier and leave the rest in life’s hands. This triad keeps pointing me toward a fuller life: time for what matters, a clear purpose, and the flexibility to adapt.

Now, the external filters.

External sustainability filters

4. People (P)

I remember that, a long time ago, a potential investor asked me, “How many lives is your project helping?”

A sustainable system creates value for others, not only efficiency for me. This is where sustainability stops being personal productivity and starts becoming leadership.

I learned this most clearly while building WAYAKIT. In the early years, every operational improvement we made, simplifying production steps, redesigning packaging, standardizing formulations, didn’t just save me time. It made the work easier for our team. It reduced friction, training time, and mistakes. A system that only works because one person carries it is fragile. A system that strengthens other people becomes durable.

Strategists Michael Porter and Mark Kramer call this shared value: when business success and social progress reinforce each other. The most resilient systems are the ones where everyone involved benefits from their existence: employees, partners, customers, and communities.

Sustainability, in this sense, is not sacrifice. It is alignment.

5. Planet (P)

For me, “planet” was never theoretical. It’s why I entered science in the first place.

As an environmental scientist, I spent years studying water systems and resource constraints. The turning point came when I moved into industry and saw how many operational systems are designed for speed, not stewardship. Water wasted because it’s easier. Chemicals chosen because they’re cheaper. Processes repeated because “that’s how it’s always been done.”

Building WAYAKIT forced me to translate environmental intention into operational systems: formulations designed to reduce water consumption, concentrated products that reduce logistics impact, and processes that can scale without scaling harm.

Sustainability becomes real when it’s embedded into the system itself, when the responsible action becomes the default, not the exception.

This principle aligns with global sustainability frameworks, including the UN Sustainable Development Goals, which emphasize continuous improvement and systemic change, not one-time actions.

A sustainable system doesn’t depend on constant willpower to do the right thing. It makes the right thing the path of least resistance.

6. Prosperity (P)

A sustainable system must be able to sustain itself. That isn’t only money. It’s durability, royalties over time, and economic viability as proof the system can persist.

This was one of the hardest lessons for me as a founder. In the beginning, I believed impact alone was enough. But impact that depends entirely on personal sacrifice eventually collapses. It drains the person carrying it.

Prosperity is not only financial profit. It is durability. It is the ability of a system to generate enough value, economic, operational, or energetic, to continue existing without draining its operator.

In sustainability research, this is often described as sustainable value creation: models that improve environmental and social outcomes while remaining economically viable.

I’ve experienced this personally. The systems that lasted in my life, in business, health, and leadership, weren’t the ones that required constant heroic effort. They were the ones that, once designed well, started returning energy instead of consuming it.

Prosperity is not the opposite of sustainability. It’s proof the system can live beyond your constant intervention.

Prosperity matters because without it, the “system” becomes a donation of your life force.

What comes next

Up to this point, this is the foundation.

Not a productivity system. Not a life philosophy disconnected from execution. A lens I use to design companies, protect my attention, and build a life that can endure pressure, change, and responsibility.

For years, I thought systems were private tools. Something each person had to figure out alone, through friction, failure, and exhaustion.

But I’ve come to believe something else:

Some of the most impactful leaders I’ve met aren’t defined by how hard they work. They’re defined by the systems they’ve built, the ones that allow value to continue long after the moment of effort.

• A founder who can scale without becoming the bottleneck.

• A parent who protects presence despite responsibility.

• A leader who builds organizations that function without constant control.

• A person who protects their energy while expanding their impact.

Aziul Connections exists to document those designs. Over the past decade, many of those systems were forged while building between Latin America and the Middle East, environments that force clarity about what endures and what collapses under complexity.

Over time, I will share the systems I’ve built across business, geographies, leadership, motherhood, and personal evolution, and I will interview other builders to understand how their systems sustain them.

Not as prescriptions, but as patterns. Because once you see systems, you stop assuming everything must be carried through personal effort.

You begin to design continuity.

My hope is that this becomes a public library of sustainable systems, so you can borrow what fits, reshape what doesn’t, and stop rebuilding from scratch in isolation.

If this resonates with you, I invite you to be part of it.

Subscribe to follow the frameworks as they evolve. Reply and tell me what system you’re trying to build right now. Or share this with someone who is ready to stop carrying everything alone.

Because the future does not belong to those who can endure the most pressure. It belongs to those who can design systems that endure.

Welcome to Aziul.

Subscribe to Aziul Connections

Frameworks for building sustainable systems in business, leadership, and life—grounded in science, entrepreneurship, and scaling impact across LATAM and MENA. Aziul is Azul + Luisa backwards: the planet I protect through sustainable systems.

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When I was told I had received the Mérito EXATEC Award from my alma mater in Mexico, the Monterrey Institute of Technology and Higher Education, a private research university with one of the most influential alumni networks in Latin America, my first thought wasn’t pride or celebration. What I felt first was surprise. And then, almost immediately, gratitude.

The Mérito EXATEC Award honors graduates who have become exemplary agents of change through their professional work and social impact, rooted in values like responsibility, innovation, and leadership. It celebrates alumni whose careers reflect significant contributions beyond their communities with tangible societal impact.

For those who are new here: I am an industrial engineer and environmental scientist, trained at KAUST, and the cofounder and CEO of WAYAKIT, a women-led biotechnology company building sustainable cleaning and water-saving solutions across Latin America and the Middle East. Over the past decade, my work has lived at the intersection of science, entrepreneurship, and impact, translating research into businesses that operate in real markets, not just laboratories.

What the award really represents

I’ve been thinking a lot about what this recognition actually means. Not as validation, but as a checkpoint. A moment to look back and realize that the systems I’ve been building, both in business and in life, are actually working. Because here’s what I believe:

Awards are moments. Systems are decades.

When people ask me how I manage a biotech company across two continents, raise my son, meditate, exercise, and still show up fully in my work, they expect some secret about balance or time management. The real answer is less glamorous: I design systems. Not technological systems, life systems.

I am obsessed with structure. With creating processes that support what matters most so I don’t have to reinvent my day every morning. This didn’t come from business school. It came from necessity. From being a student who wanted to do everything: work full time, take Hawaiian dance classes, teach, and still graduate.

I learned early that if I wanted to be in a million things, I could not rely on willpower. I had to build infrastructure around my priorities. That’s what I have carried into WAYAKIT. Into motherhood. Into leadership.

When Mission Emerged from Conflict

The interview that followed asked me something I had not fully articulated to myself: When did your work stop being just a business and become a mission? I didn’t have a clean answer ready. Because the truth is, it wasn’t a single moment. It was a slow burn. A conflict, really.

After my master’s degree at KAUST, I felt this tension between technical achievement and purpose. Engineering had always come easily to me. Results, grades, problem solving. None of it required much struggle. And maybe that is why I took it all so seriously without actually enjoying the process.

But when I returned to Mexico and started my first company, Sin Acqua, everything shifted. Entering the entrepreneurship world felt scary and unknown, especially after swearing to myself in high school that I would never go into entrepreneurship. I hated that class.

I began asking myself uncomfortable questions. Why am I doing this? Why did I leave a stable path? Why build something from scratch when I could have stayed in academia, following a clear trajectory where everything was predictable? That questioning didn’t weaken me. It clarified me.

Mission isn’t born from success. It’s born from friction.

The question that stayed with me

During the interview, they asked what I would tell my younger self walking the corridors of campus. I would tell her: Relax. Enjoy the process. The difference between a 99 and an 85 won’t matter. The mission will.

Because I was so focused on results. On being the best. On not failing. And while that drive got me far, it also made me miss the point for a long time. The point isn’t the grade. It isn’t the title. It isn’t even the award. The point is building something that outlasts you. Something that creates real impact. Something that, when you wake up in the morning, doesn’t feel like work anymore.

Even on the hard days. Even when things go wrong. Even after personal storms. When your mission becomes clear, you stop feeling like you are working.

What comes next

WAYAKIT was born from research. But the intention behind it was always impact. We didn’t just want to create better cleaning products. We wanted to shift how people think about hygiene, sustainability, and the ingredients they bring into their homes and workplaces.

This year, we’re expanding that mission. Making our products accessible to more households, pet owners, vehicle owners. Not just industries. Because sustainable solutions shouldn’t be a luxury.

And personally, I’m committing to something I paused for too long: writing more consistently about what I’m learning. About sustainable systems. About building in emerging markets. About the messy, human side of leadership that doesn’t fit neatly into LinkedIn posts.

This award didn’t give me a mission. It reminded me I already have one. And I’m just getting started. If you’re building something that matters, if you’re in that uncomfortable space between what you know and what you’re becoming, you’re not lost. You’re exactly where you need to be. The friction is part of it. The systems will come. And the mission will clarify itself.

Trust the process. Trust the friction. And most importantly, trust that you’re building exactly what the world needs from you.

— Luisa Javier

In the coming weeks, I’ll be writing more deeply about sustainable systems, emerging markets, and execution behind scaling impact. Some of these reflections will be reserved for members building their own systems.

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The real gratitude

This award means more to me than recognition. It represents every person who supported me when I needed it most.

To Monterrey Tec: When my family went through a deeply difficult time, the university didn’t just teach me engineering, they gave me a scholarship that allowed me to continue. That support changed the trajectory of my life. Not all institutions do this. Tec did. And I carry that with me.

To my parents and family: For believing in education even when everything else felt uncertain. For making sacrifices I only now understand as a mother myself.

To my son: Who teaches me daily what it means to build systems that actually serve life. Who reminds me why the work matters. Who shows me that legacy isn’t about awards, it’s about what you model for the next generation.

To my professors: Who saw potential I hadn’t yet claimed. Who challenged me not just academically, but to think beyond results and toward purpose.

To my classmates: Who became lifelong collaborators, friends, and mirrors. The international community at Tec taught me how to navigate different worlds, a skill I use every single day.

To my partners at WAYAKIT: Who took the leap with me. Who believed in building something sustainable, even when the path wasn’t clear. Who continue to push the mission forward across continents.

This award doesn’t belong to me alone. It belongs to everyone who invested in a young woman who didn’t always know where she was going, but was determined to figure it out.

Thank you.

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Real insights on green business, deep tech, capital and scaling impact from LATAM to MENA. Aziul is Azul + Luisa backwards: the planet I build and protect through sustainable systems.

If you’ve ever lived in Saudi Arabia’s coastal regions, you might be familiar with the sneezing, watery eyes, and morning rhinitis that seems to hit many of us hard. According to a recent literature review analyzing different studies, around 20% of Saudi population develops allergic rhinitis¹.

Dust mites, tiny but potent allergens, are a significant contributor to the rise of allergic reactions in the Kingdom. Their prevalence is significantly heightened due to humidity levels and periodic sandstorms, creating an ideal environment for their reproduction.

In this article, I’ll share my personal journey with dust mite allergies, explore scientific studies on their prevalence, and highlight the importance of air quality and effective cleaning solutions. My hope is to raise awareness and help others combat these invisible invaders that can turn daily life into a battle with allergies.

Personal Story: From Sneezes to Anaphylactic Shock

Living in Saudi Arabia for over a decade, I never expected that something as small as dust mites could have such a massive impact on my health. Coming from Mexico, where "allergy" wasn’t a part of my vocabulary, I was shocked when I started experiencing symptoms like morning sneezing, red eyes, and congestion.

One day, I visited a new apartment and experienced a dramatic allergic reaction. My eyes swelled shut, my airways constricted, and I collapsed, suffering from anaphylactic shock.

The culprit? Dust mites thriving in the high humidity of coastal Saudi cities. Physicians confirmed that I developed a severe allergic reaction to dust mites. That near-fatal experience has driven me to understand and eliminate dust mites from my living spaces.

Dust Mites: A Hidden Allergen in Saudi Arabia

Dust mites are minuscule creatures that thrive in warm, humid environments—like the coastal regions of Saudi Arabia. These pests feed on dead skin cells and multiply rapidly in damp conditions, becoming a major contributor to allergic reactions and asthma attacks. Here are some of the main factors contributing to dust mite reproduction:

1. Humidity

Research shows that dust mites are prevalent in humid areas, especially in homes with poor ventilation. According to the Annals of Saudi Medicine², coastal cities in Saudi Arabia experience higher dust mite concentrations than inland cities due to the higher humidity levels. With 50-60% of Saudi Arabia's population residing in coastal areas, this presents a significant public health concern.

2. Sandstorms

Another study analyzed if sandstorms had an influence in allergic rhinitis (AR) cases. The findings showed that allergic rhinitis tends to flare up more in the summer and winter compared to spring and autumn, and one big reason for that in Saudi Arabia is the sandstorms that hit throughout the year.

These storms transport all sorts of dust and microorganisms that can easily trigger or make respiratory issues like AR and asthma worse. In fact, Meo et al³ pointed out that these year-round sandstorms are often linked to more cases of wheezing, runny noses, coughing, and even asthma attacks.

3. Air quality

The relationship between dust mites, air conditioning, and air quality is an important factor in allergy management. In Saudi Arabia, air conditioning systems are ubiquitous due to the extreme heat. However, poorly maintained AC units can harbor dust mites, mold, and other allergens, worsening indoor air quality.

In summary, here is an adapted graph of sixteen research studies showing the most prevalent triggers for allergic rhinitis in Saudi Arabia:

Adapted graph showcasing the most prevalent allergy triggers in Saudi Arabia¹.

5 Steps to Breathe Easy: Beat Dust Mite Allergies

1. Control indoor humidity

Studies from the World Allergy Organization⁴ emphasize the importance of controlling indoor humidity to reduce dust mite proliferation. In humid environments like Saudi Arabia's coastal cities, keeping indoor humidity below 50% is critical to minimizing dust mite populations.

2. Air purification

Air purification is a powerful tool in combating dust mite allergies. These units work by filtering out allergens from the air, including dust mite particles that often trigger allergic reactions.

A recent study analyzing thirty five trials⁴ for the treatment of allergic asthma proved clinical benefits of nocturnal air purification of the breathing zone. Regular use of air purifiers can make a noticeable difference in minimizing symptoms like sneezing, congestion, and itchy eyes.

3. Deep cleaning of AC vents

In my personal experience, after enduring an anaphylactic shock, I decided to take action by thoroughly cleaning and disinfecting the AC vents in my home. I used WAYAKIT Biotech Cleaner and Disinfectant⁵, which is incredibly effective, eliminating 99.999% of viruses and bacteria in just 30 seconds. After this deep cleaning, I noticed a significant reduction in my allergy symptoms, making a real difference in my daily comfort and health.

4. Deep cleaning of linen and furniture

In the same report from the World Allergy Organization⁴ , a total bedroom control protocol proved to have clinical benefits in patients with house dust mite-induced allergic asthma. The total bedroom control protocol consists of:

• Fitting of mite-impermeable covers to all bedding elements.

• Laundering of bedding monthly with hot water, with a minimum temperature of 60 °C.

• Deep cleaning of house carpets, soft toys, upholstery, and other textiles.

Reducing dust mites through regular cleaning, particularly in areas prone to high humidity like AC vents and upholstery, is crucial for managing allergies. Together with my team at WAYAKIT, we designed the deep cleaning protocol "WAYAKIT Biotech Curtain and Furniture Care⁵", targeting the disinfection, sanitization and stain removal from air conditioning units, mattresses,  furniture, curtains, and carpets.

In my own experience, deep cleaning AC vents and furniture dramatically improved air quality and reduced my allergy symptoms. Wayakit’s products, designed to clean deeply while being environmentally safe, made all the difference. For those living in humid coastal areas, incorporating regular cleaning protocols can make a significant impact on reducing allergy symptoms.

5. Take control of your allergies before they take control of you

When I visited the allergologist, he explained that many people, including myself, tend to ignore their allergy symptoms, leaving them untreated. The problem with this is that over time, the repetitive exposure to allergens could lead to chronic allergic inflammation⁶ resulting in anaphylactic shock. Since then, I’ve learned that at the first sign of symptoms, I use a nasal antihistamine spray to keep them under control. It’s been a game-changer for me. Always consult your physician to get the right medications tailored to your needs.

The Impact on Health and Sustainable Development Goals

The presence of dust mites and poor air quality contributes to the growing health concerns related to respiratory diseases in Saudi Arabia. Tackling these allergens not only improves individual health but also aligns with the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).

Specifically, this article targets SDG 3 (Good Health and Well-being) by promoting healthier living environments, and SDG 6 (Clean Water and Sanitation) by advocating for sustainable cleaning practices that ensure safe and effective hygiene. By reducing the presence of allergens like dust mites, we can improve air quality, prevent allergic reactions, and support a healthier living environment for all Saudis.

Conclusion: Taking Control of your Environment

The rise of dust mite allergies in Saudi Arabia is a serious issue, particularly in coastal regions. However, with the right knowledge and tools, we can take control of our environments. Regular cleaning using eco-friendly solutions like Wayakit can significantly reduce the presence of dust mites and improve air quality, leading to healthier homes and lives. Let’s take action today to create cleaner, safer living spaces for everyone.

Thanks for reading Aziul Connections!

Let’s continue building sustainable bridges together. If you enjoyed this post, feel free to share it and invite others to join our community.

Stay tuned for more insights on science, sustainability, and entrepreneurship.

See you in the next edition!

Best,

Dr. Luisa Javier

Aziul Connections

Disclaimer: The content of this post is based solely on personal experiences and is not intended to provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always consult with a qualified healthcare professional or your physician before starting any new treatment or making changes to your current healthcare regimen.

References:

1. Aburiziza, A., Almatrafi, M. A., Alonazi, A. S., Zatari, M. H., Alqouzi, S. A., Mandili, R. A., Hawsawi, W. T., & Aljohani, R. H. (2022). The prevalence, clinical picture, and triggers of allergic rhinitis in Saudi population: A systematic review and meta-analysis. Journal of Asthma and Allergy, 15, 1831–1849.

2. Al-Frayh, A. S., Hasnain, S. M., Gad-El-Rab, M. O., Schwartz, B., Al-Mobairek, K., & Al-Sedairy, S. T. (1997). House dust mite allergens in Saudi Arabia: Regional variations and immune response. Annals of Saudi Medicine, 17(2), 156–160.

3. Meo, S. A., Al-Kheraiji, M. F. A., AlFaraj, Z. F., Alwehaibi, N. A., & Aldereihim, A. A. (2013). Respiratory and general health complaints in subjects exposed to sandstorm at Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Pakistan Journal of Medical Sciences, 29(2), 642–646.

4. van Boven, F. E., Braunstahl, G.-J., Arends, L. R., van Maaren, M. S., Bramer, W. M., Gerth van Wijk, R., & de Jong, N. W. (2024). House dust mite allergen avoidance strategies for the treatment of allergic asthma: A hypothesis-generating meta-analysis. World Allergy Organization Journal, 17(6), 100919.

5. WAYAKIT - Biotechnology in Hygiene https://sa.wayakit.com

6. Galli, S., Tsai, M., & Piliponsky, A. (2008). The development of allergic inflammation. Nature, 454, 445-454.

Hello and welcome to Aziul Connections – a newsletter for changemakers connecting science, business, and sustainability.

While in academia, I realized that science and business often feel like separate worlds. I made it my mission to bridge this gap, translating research into sustainable, market-ready solutions.

This is where Aziul Connections comes in—connecting people, ideas, and industries for impactful change. Let’s build a future driven by sustainability, one post at a time.

As we celebrate Saudi National Day on September 23rd, 2024, I find myself reflecting on the tremendous strides made by Saudi women, particularly in entrepreneurship.

From leading startups to gaining global recognition, Saudi women are not just reshaping the nation’s business ecosystem but are driving innovation across multiple sectors.

As HRH Princess Reema bint Bandar Al Saud stated on The Mo Show, “You can't be what you don't see.” Her words resonate deeply as we acknowledge the groundbreaking progress made by women across the Kingdom.

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My Journey: A Witness to Change

When I first arrived in Jeddah in 2009, Saudi Arabia was very different.

As a Mexican arriving in the Middle East for the first time, I entered a world of new customs and norms.

I was studying at the first mixed-gender university in the Kingdom, and at that time, women couldn't drive, and the sweeping changes we see today were still on the horizon.

Fast forward to 2017, when I returned for my PhD. The pace of transformation was staggering.

Not only did I become one of the first women to drive in Saudi Arabia, but I also became one of the first female expats to establish a business here.

Being part of this transition has made me a believer in what’s to come. Here are some of the incredible milestones we’re celebrating today.

The Path to Progress: Key Reforms for Saudi Women

2013 – Women Join the Shoura Council

In a groundbreaking move, 30 women were appointed to the Shoura Council, marking the first female representation in the Kingdom’s advisory body. Source

2015 – Women Elected to Municipal Seats

For the first time in history, 17 women were elected to municipal councils, a critical step toward integrating women into public decision-making. Source

2017 – Vision 2030 Ambitions

Vision 2030 set ambitious targets, aiming for 30% female workforce participation by 2030. Legal reforms enabled women to travel and work without needing male guardian consent.

2018 – The Driving Ban Lifted

Saudi women finally gained the right to drive, symbolizing newfound freedom and independence. Source

2019 – Global Recognition for Reforms

Saudi Arabia was recognized by the World Bank as the top reformer in improving women’s economic participation, with new provisions for gender equality in access to financial services and employment. Source

2021 – Female Workforce Participation Doubles

The female labor force participation rate doubled to 35.6%, exceeding Vision 2030's target of 30%. Source

2023 – Women Lead in SMEs

Women now lead 45% of Saudi Arabia’s SMEs, with female entrepreneurs on par with their male counterparts in terms of participation, as reflected in the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor report. Source

The Road Ahead

While the progress is remarkable, the journey continues. Female founders still receive a fraction of the funding that male entrepreneurs do. In 2023, women-led SMEs received only $19 million in investments, representing just 0.47% of total startup funding in the Kingdom.

For Saudi Arabia to continue its progress, it’s crucial to provide resources, networks, and financial backing to female entrepreneurs.

By doing so, we ensure that the next decade of women’s transformation in the Kingdom is even more impressive.

Call to Action

Let’s support and uplift the women who are shaping the future of Saudi Arabia. Their success is our success, and their progress is a testament to what’s possible when we commit to change.

Happy Saudi National Day!

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Thanks for reading Aziul Connections!

Let’s continue building sustainable bridges together. If you enjoyed this post, feel free to share it and invite others to join our community.

Stay tuned for more insights on science, sustainability, and entrepreneurship.

See you in the next edition!

Best,

Dr. Luisa Javier

Aziul Connections

Today is a special day for me—Mexican Independence Day. As I reflect on my heritage, I want to share something closely tied to both my culture and my passion: water desalination. Specifically, how an ancient Mexican civilization mastered water management over 2,000 years ago.

Last year, I had the incredible opportunity to visit Las Coloradas in Yucatan, Mexico—a place where the Mayan method for desalinating water is still in use today. Las Coloradas is more than just a salt processing plant; it's an eco-engineered marvel that transforms seawater into salt using evaporation, microorganisms, and the natural power of the sun.

Why is the water in Las Coloradas pink?

The striking pink color of the lagoons in Las Coloradas is more than just visually captivating—it’s the result of a unique natural process. The vibrant color comes from halophiles, salt-tolerant microorganisms, and a specific type of algae that thrive in the high-salinity waters. These algae produce large amounts of beta-carotene, a reddish pigment also found in carrots, which gives the water its pink or reddish color. The process that creates this pink spectacle is not only beautiful but also a testament to the adaptability of life in extreme conditions. It's a perfect example of how nature can create stunning landscapes through biochemical interactions.

As I reflect on this, I’m reminded of how resourceful and sustainable the Mayans were, even without the technologies we rely on today. It’s fascinating to think that lessons from ancient cultures could help us solve modern challenges in water management and sustainability.

Why This Matters Today

While the Mayans used this method for salt production, modern science is now exploring how we can extract even more valuable by-products, like enzymes for the food and pharmaceutical industries.

As a professional deeply involved in water management and environmental innovation, this visit reinforced my belief in the power of sustainable practices. Whether it’s preserving water resources in aviation or scaling biotech solutions in Saudi Arabia, my journey always circles back to a simple yet profound message: we have much to learn from our ancestors.

Viva Mexico! Let’s honor our heritage by embracing sustainability and innovation—two principles that guided the ancient Mayans and can lead us to a better future today.

Let’s stay connected and continue to share the wisdom of the past to shape a sustainable future!

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Thanks for reading Aziul Connections!

Let’s continue building sustainable bridges together. If you enjoyed this post, feel free to share it and invite others to join our community.

Stay tuned for more insights on science, sustainability, and entrepreneurship.

See you in the next edition!

Best,

Dr. Luisa Javier

Aziul Connections