Born in Jordan to a Syrian family, Fouad is building a small machine at an innovation lab in Irbid. He hopes it can play a part in tackling a problem far larger than the device itself.
At first glance, the machine is unremarkable.
A baseplate. A few beams. A grey motor wired into place. Beneath it sits a clear plastic cup filled with water. When Fouad switches the machine on, the water begins to move and bubbles rise to the surface. That is all there is to see: a boy, a green table and bubbles in a cup.
“My ambition is to contribute to a cleaner, more sustainable future through innovation.”
Yet the purpose of those bubbles is precisely why Fouad's story matters.
Fouad is a Syrian child born in Jordan. The distinction matters because it defines a particular kind of life. He holds the nationality of a country in which he has never lived; everything he knows first-hand - his street, his school and the laboratory in Irbid - is in Jordan. He belongs to a generation growing up entirely in displacement, for whom 'back home' is a phrase used by other people.
That generation is usually spoken about in terms of what it needs. Fouad is doing something different: he has chosen a problem that affects everyone and begun working on it.
He works at Johud's innovation labs. Their purpose is practical and precise: to give young people the equipment, space and guidance they need to turn an idea into something tangible. It is not a lecture about innovation; it is a workbench, a set of components and someone to help when an experiment fails.
For a boy in Irbid with an interest in environmental technology but no laboratory of his own, that is the distance between having an idea and being able to test it.
His project is intended to tackle pollution and the wider challenges facing the environment and climate - the sort of issues adults usually discuss at conferences. Fouad assembles the device, runs it, records his observations in a small notebook and makes adjustments. The rig on the green table is a prototype in the truest sense: an idea made physical, so that its flaws can be seen and improved.
His words about a cleaner future might seem ambitious for a boy sitting behind a plastic cup filled with bubbles. Yet they do not sound misplaced. Waiting until he is considered old enough or qualified enough to tackle the problem would only allow the problem to endure.
His youth committee supervisor explains the thinking behind the lab: “We believe in the role of young people in innovation and change, and Fouad is a living example of that.” The labs, he says, give young people the right environment in which to develop their skills and make a genuine difference in their communities.
It is an easy claim to make. What gives it weight here is the equipment on the table. Belief in young people means little unless it comes with the motor, the baseplate and the guidance that allow them to begin. Without those things, belief is little more than encouragement.
Johud shared Fouad's story on International Youth Day, using the familiar language of the sector: youth, digital innovation and sustainable development.
The reality is smaller in scale, and more compelling. A boy in a laboratory in Irbid, born into displacement he did not choose, spends his afternoons working on a machine that makes bubbles in a cup - because he has decided that the quality of our air and water concerns him too.
