Words by Jenny Lynn Davis | Images courtesy of Adam Kinsaul
When Adam Kinsaul stepped off a plane in Tanzania for the first time in 2015, he was carrying a few bags of basic medical supplies and a sense of calling he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t there on a whim. He’d long known about Sweetwater Outreach, the nonprofit started by family friend John Blevins, but this was his first time seeing the mission up close.
“I just wanted to observe what was already happening,” he says. “I felt drawn to the work, but I didn’t want to assume I knew what was needed.”
Sweetwater Outreach began in 2008 with a simple question: “Where does your water come from?” Blevins, a civil engineer with a background in wastewater management, had gone house to house in East Africa asking that very thing. The answers were often sobering. Many families had access to water, but it wasn’t clean or safe. Over time, the mission evolved to focus on providing clean, safe water access, promoting health education, and offering hygiene support in both Tanzania and Kenya.
Adam, a nurse practitioner, saw a unique way to contribute. His first real experience with medical missions had come just a few years earlier, on a trip to Honduras, and connected faith, medicine, and service in a way that textbooks never could.
“With Sweetwater, I saw the chance to use my skills in a setting where basic care could literally save lives,” he says.
One of the first people he met on the ground was a Kenyan nurse named Mary Gorelty. She was seeing patients out of a repurposed shipping container. On their first day working together, Adam and Mary treated 80 patients.
“I was overwhelmed,” he admits. “But also deeply inspired. There was such a sense of purpose in that room.”
Sweetwater Outreach remains a grassroots effort, built on long-term relationships and community trust. Their model is about partnership and empowerment. Schools are equipped with sustainable water systems and taught to maintain them. Churches receive filter systems and training. Communities are educated on hygiene and waterborne illness.
“We don’t just say, ‘Your water’s bad,’” Adam explains. “That water has sustained their families for generations. It takes time to build understanding and trust.”
That trust has yielded powerful stories. Adam recalls a pastor named Charles whose family used their water filter exactly as instructed. Out of 100 water samples tested, his was the only one that came back completely clean. Another man, Pastor Martin, initially struggled to use his filter consistently. Once he did, the change was visible – he gained weight, looked healthier, and felt stronger.
Adam’s medical mission trips with Sweetwater now happen annually. In recent years, he’s brought teams of 10–15 people to serve in clinics, offer spiritual support, and educate communities on health and water safety. One unforgettable moment came when a woman with a severe chest wound came to the clinic in Kisii County. Adam treated her with limited resources, prayed with her, and hoped for the best.
“A year later, she walked into our clinic, completely healed,” he says. “It was one of those moments that remind you that God really does use what we bring.”
For Adam, who now teaches at UAB’s School of Nursing and serves as president of the Nurse Practitioner Alliance of Alabama, his work with Sweetwater keeps him grounded.
“In Western medicine, we rely on diagnostics and labs. Over there, it’s about presence, prayer, and creativity,” he says. “It changes how you see your role as a healer.”
And that, perhaps, is the core of Sweetwater’s mission: healing that flows from clean and safe water, deep faith, and the belief that small actions done in love can ripple across continents. WL
