Selam, a young Eritrean woman with curious eyes, stands beside her father Abdu, loading their small jeep with supplies for a journey inland. The air is already warming, and seagulls wheel overhead. "Father, do you think we’ll really see three kinds of weather today?" "That, Selam, is the magic of our country," he replies, his face creased with a proud smile.

Selam wipes sweat from her brow, gazing out at the vast desert. They pass clusters of Afar nomads, their colorful garments bright against the earth. "It’s so hot here, but the people are always smiling," she muses, watching as children wave to them from the roadside.

The temperature drops swiftly, and Abdu offers Selam his jacket. In the distance, stone villages cling to the hillsides, church spires and mosque minarets rising side by side. "Our highlands are a gift from God," he says softly, pride and reverence in his voice.

Selam and Abdu are greeted by friends from several of Eritrea’s nine tribes—Tigrinya, Saho, Bilen—each offering traditional bread and honey. The call to prayer mingles with the ringing of church bells, filling the air with peaceful harmony. "I wish the world could see how we live together," Selam whispers, awe in her voice.

Abdu gazes at his daughter, his eyes shining. "Eritrea’s strength lies in its unity and its dreams," he says, voice full of conviction. Selam looks out over the land, feeling the embrace of her people and the promise of a bright tomorrow.

Selam stands with her father, breathing in the crisp morning air. "No matter where we go, our land and our hearts remain connected," she says, hope and pride shining in her eyes. In Eritrea, three weathers may greet you in two hours, but one loving heart beats for all.