Walking on the road to Chaquijyá, Guatemala

This year, in order to further our understanding of global hunger, the Program Directors at all three MPI sites participated in the 30-hour fast organized by World Vision International. Though allowed to consume fruit juice, we were highly encouraged to not consume solid foods or coffee (eek!) from 1:00pm this past Thursday until 7:00pm the following Friday. In addition to the fast, PD’s also participated in service activities organized through their respective sites, and discussions concerning our personal sentiments regarding the fast. In Guatemala, we began our fast with an hour of service at a local feeding program and then conducted dialogues in house and with the Ecuador PDs via Skype. The fast was both physically and emotionally taxing, but we all persevered and I believed that we learned a great deal from the experience.

To be honest, when I first learned about the fast, I was not crazy about it for numerous reasons. Primarily, any given day, I probably spend more time eating than not, and I was not sold on the idea of forgoing food for an entire 30 hours. Additionally, I felt several moral qualms on the matter. Who were we to expect that a mere day-long fast would allow us to empathize with the suffering and turmoil of hunger victims? Watching movies on laptops, drinking clean water, and cozily sitting in our warm beds, we would be surrounded by numerous luxuries and we would have a kitchen stocked with food in case of emergency. We would begin the fast with the assurance of copious amounts of food in 30 hours and we would never suffer the anxiety of wondering the source of our next meal.

The fast also did not touch me initially at a personal level, as our physical experience of hunger could never resemble the experiences of the hungry in Chaquijyá. Many residents of Chaquijyá suffer from chronic hunger. While many of them may only eat one meal a day, they do eat. Our experience would more closely resemble the acute hunger of victims of natural disasters or war, whose food sources become cut off very suddenly. Like I said, there were numerous reasons. Overall, it seemed to me that our experience would not remotely resemble those lived by the impoverished, and I was hesitant to believe that the fast would affect my perspectives in working with the community members of Chaquijyá.

Having successfully completed the fast, I cannot say if the experience will affect how I make my lesson plans or teach my classes in Chaquijyá, but I can say that the fast did prove to be more enlightening than I had expected. Namely, even if the fast did not radically change my thoughts on world hunger, the experience did stimulate me to think. Though the fast was not “authentic” per say, hunger dominated my thoughts for 30 hours and compelled me to ask to ask more profound questions about myself and the larger issue. Indeed, I realized that is impossible for me to fathom the experience of chronic hunger. This realization excited in me both a rush of gratitude for the numerous blessings I am fortunate to enjoy, and also a larger appreciation for the resilience of people suffering from hunger. All over the world, people who survive on minimal food still work and struggle to support families. Often the most impoverished people possess the most physically taxing jobs, and millions of hungry people toil each day all the while still nourishing love for their families, religious beliefs, and/or inner determination.

I am so grateful for the smack-in-face, out-of-the-comfort-zone experience that was the fast. Sometimes I need a shock to my system to make me open my eyes and see the world around me more clearly. Global hunger is truly a world issue that cannot be fixed in a flash by one organization or government. Whether through monetary donations, volunteering, or spreading awareness, all of us must find our own ways to contribute to the struggle to insure food security for our fellow humans.

Ginny just finished a thirteen-month commitment as Program Director with Manna Project International-Guatemala and is returning to Guatemala to seek out other opportunities. For more on Ginny’s experiences in Guatemala, check out her blog.

For me, Manna Project International was the path illuminated. With only one week remaining in my college career, I was unsure of my plans after graduation. Juggling class assignments, extra-curricular projects, and my steadfast commitment to capitalize on the college social scene, I often procrastinated job hunting and instead became skilled at dodging career-related interrogations from my relatives and friends. In reality, I wanted to learn about international development first-hand and make a positive impact in a community abroad, but I had not found a program or job that felt right. I was an idealist without direction, and I worried that I would never find clarity.

One day, I was clearing my inbox, and I stumbled upon a message forwarded through my sorority listserv. Although often I would automatically delete the plethora of sorority emails that flooded my inbox, for some reason I decided to give the message a quick read. The email turned out to be from another senior named Katherine, recently hired as a Country Director for Manna Project International. She was seeking Program Directors to live in Guatemala for 13 months and help to found the organization’s third international site by building relationships and creating sustainable programs within a rural, Mayan village. The angelic, enlightenment music sounded, the light-bulb illuminated above my head, and I thought: “Wow. This is perfect.”

I met with Katherine (Kat, I later learned) for coffee, submitted an application, and the rest, as the cliché goes, is history. I lived in Sololá, Guatemala for 13 months, improved my Spanish, and created health education, English, and summer camp programs that continue today. Not only did I learn first-hand about international development and Mayan culture, but also the experience solidified my desire to pursue public health and enabled me to grow into a braver, more sensitive person.

So, all ye current and future idealists, I leave you not with job-hunting strategies, but instead with a message of comfort. As you research and apply to volunteer or job opportunities in Latin America, remember that serendipity happens; a path will be illuminated. It is only a matter of time before you find the adventure perfect for you.

Ginny just finished a thirteen-month commitment as Program Director with Manna Project International-Guatemala. For more on Ginny’s experiences in Guatemala, check out her blog.

This season is one of my favorites of the year, and not only because it means warbling off carols with family and friends or immersing myself in the yuletide spirit (or spirits). It’s because every year in the Bennett family, we duke it out to see just who can give the most responsibly: we exchange goats through Heifer International, carbon credits through Carbon Fund, and donations to NPR and Wikipedia.

Sure, it comes off as a competition in self-congratulatory giving. (And yes, since you ask, we are liberals from the East Coast.) But it’s also a valuable practice in stopping to recognize that we are fortunate enough to help those that need it most. Furthermore, it’s a practice that everyone can partake in, regardless of political leaning, denomination, or country of residence.

A recent article in GOOD Magazine pointed out that, “in fact, according to a study by the Women’s Philanthropy Institute, the Americans who give away the biggest proportion of their own income [to charity] are women who make $23,509 or less a year, not ridiculously wealthy white dudes named Bill.” But this is not only because we ladyfolks with shallow pockets are good and wise and magnanimous. (Though this assuredly must play a big role.)

It’s because philanthropy doesn’t just mean a million dollar aid package, a fleet of new computers for an orphanage in Honduras, or a new well sunk in an South African village. Philanthropy can come in smaller and unconventional packages. And so it was that several years ago the Bennett family discovered the paragon of responsible giving.

Behold: the Kiva Card. It comes in red and green or blue and silver* and is the gift that keeps on giving. Benefits to you: you look like a real do-gooder, and your recipient will find you both beneficent and savvy. Benefits to them: they will get to experience the exhilaration and certain joy of picking their own entrepreneur to lend to through the Kiva website. They’ll be given an opportunity to learn about an incredible and potent organization working in a vital emerging field in development. Finally, your recipient will reap the direct monetary benefits of their borrowers’ repayments (at least, 98.93%  of the time) over the next four to thirty-six months. Benefits to the world: somewhere in the sixty-one countries where Kiva works, yet another entrepreneur will be able to realize their microenterprise, and thus bolster the local economy, create jobs, and provide their families with the income and tools to move forward.

And best yet, unlike many other responsible gifts this holiday season, Kiva charges absolutely no overhead for Kiva Cards. (Unless you choose to donate on top of your $25 Kiva Card, which we could hardly blame you for.)

So what’s the drawback? You might actually look too generous and informed. And no-one likes being handed just an envelope, so be sure to find an extra big box in which to place your gift card before delivering it to its lucky recipient.

*Depending on what color construction paper you print it out on and what color markers you use. To give the gift of Kiva this holiday season (wink wink nudge nudge), check out Kiva Cards here! Kate Bennett is currently living in Ica, Peru and working as a Kiva Fellow with Kiva Field Partner Caja Rural Señor de Luren.

UTPMP is best known locally for its work building houses- they organize ‘massive builds,’ where up to 3,000 volunteers work in groups of ten to build a temporary shelter for a family. While my experience in this area has been unquestionably great, most of my time is spent working with the villa of Monte Rosa in the area of microcredits.

The microcredit lending program is barely a year old, and today we held the first annual Microcredit Lending Conference for loan recipients from all the different neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. The loan recipients worked in groups to discuss various hardships and how they had overcome obstacles, listened to stories of inspiration from keynote speakers, and were able to feel part of a larger community throughout the city. Participants in the program often feel abandoned by the government, and the sense of unity and solidarity brought by UTPMP’s programs helps motivate them to continue fighting to improve the neighborhoods in which they live.

Of course, the conference was attended by families (though mostly women), and many children. The asado (Argentine barbecue) and bouncy castle were perhaps as important as the speeches, allowing all the conference participants to feel at home and interact with each other and UTPMP volunteers.

Overall, the conference was deemed a success by everyone. Spirits were rejuvenated while maintaining a positive and casual environment, encouraging all the participants to keep at it and support each other in their growth. Personally, I was touched, and ended the day with the hope that high spirits translate into effective action.

For more on Un Techo de Mi Pais, check out their website or “Non-Profit Spotlight: Un Techo Para Mi Pais, Argentina” by former La Vida Idealist contributor Becca Mondshein. Luba Guzei just ended her work as an English teacher with Langrow in Lima, Peru and is searching out new opportunities in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Late 2009, I was a classic case of the leave-everything-behind syndrome. Having just finished my philosophical dissertation and stashed it in my professor’s letterbox, I was ready to put its contents – it was a study in ethics – into practice. I gave up my small Berlin apartment along with the odd job I did to pay for it, bought a bunch of flight tickets – and took off on a journey I called Charity Travel.

What I wanted to do was to promote the concept of helping grassroots initiatives in the developing world while traveling. I wanted to show that you could be engaged in other ways than simply giving out donations. Technical, medical, or journalist skills are of great value, as are organizing talent or the ability to expose and connect initiatives in a meaningful way.

In November 2009, a woman I had met in Korea had fallen for the idea. We decided spontaneously to travel around the world together visiting charitable initiatives and building momentum for this thing we called “charity travel.” We were inseparable during the adventure that took us to 40 countries in Africa, Asia, and South America. In April 2011 we married traditionally in South Korea.

Our journey is documented on charitytravel.blogspot.com. We’re not a big organization with public relations, fundraising, and legal departments. We’re typical travelers trying to make a difference.

During that journey I learned two critical lessons for our work. First, the smallest initiatives could use our help the most. Instead of “digging trenches” or performing other tasks such as primary child care or medical check-ups locals should be doing (or trained to be doing), such start-ups are in need of a few simple things: rust, exposure, expertise, and moral support.

Second, intrepid travelers could give these initiatives just that, either first-hand or by connecting them so others they’ve met along the way or online. But how to get people involved? How to connect struggling grassroots initiatives with the world of charity travelers? And more importantly, even if our struggling grass roots initiative manages to make its voice heard, we don’t know if we can trust it.

Meet KindMankind.net. I launched www.kindmankind.net in April 2011 as a website targeting independent travelers with a desire to do good works. But who scouts these invisible promising yet fragile people and their initiatives? This is the task of Kind Mankind’s “independent changemakers.”

These “independent changemakers” travel to communities who need and deserve change and help responsibly. A nurse from Kansas, while on vacation in Nepal, finds a struggling community clinic (not just the ones already mighty enough to launch their own website) and she sets up an “air-bridge” support of clean needles while en passant pointing out the importance of hand washing. A German construction worker spontaneously teaches a two-week course of an advanced technique to local builders in Tanzania – builders that are ‘common people’ and have never heard of NGOs.

They are change makers because they often bring transformational change to a community, contributing their skills to local startup initiatives such as microlending groups, community centers, schools, ecotourism initiatives, sensitizing campaigns, or human rights activists. They are independent because they can take care of themselves and they can help out initiatives that are not well-managed -yet. That means they can have a true impact.

Unlikely? Is creating such opportunities mere opportunism or can it be a vital resource in our quest to make the world fairer and more liveable? Let’s find out!

With a thirst for empowering people, I am beginning my journey step by step. First by building a sustainable community of collaborators including: visionaries, leaders, professionals, teachers, students, colleagues, and friends in Guatemala City. Second, by expanding my awareness of the world in order to generate creative ideas and create movement for action. Third, by cultivating my own personal transformation because if I want to inspire action then I have to become that action!

My green tree (symbolic of Green Connect) is in the seedling stage. It will take many years for my tree to grow but I am confident that I have the tools, inspiration, courage, creativity, passion, and patience to continue developing through this process. I know that what is important for me to do is to nurture the seeds I am planting and keep rooting myself in what is important for my life. For me it goes back to service. How will I serve?

When I feel myself getting lost in the process of planning my service to humanity- because lets face it, it is easy to get lost- I go back to what inspires and energizes me the most- yoga and meditation. It is through my daily practice of yoga and meditation that I reconnect with the universe and discover that we are all interconnected beings sharing this space we call Earth. For it is in that moment when I recognize the significance of G22 Green Connect to foster holistic change in Guatemala and see the endless possibilities for the future.

Photo Courtesy of Bonnie Norton

Mindi Batson is currenting living in Guatemala City, Guatemala and working for G22 as Co-founder and Green Connect Program Developer, as well as an independent English teacher, psychologist, and yoga teacher.

Each Kiva borrower visit I perform here in Ecuador introduces me to new role models. New strong, inspiring women I can look up to; women who, through their business and determination, are fighting the uphill battle against machismo in their own country.

I can’t say exactly what “machismo“ is, but I can tell you, I don’t like it. It means much more than catcalling women on the street. It’s a symbol of domestic violence against women; denying women deeds to land; requiring women to dress conservatively; keeping women in the home to make food and babies, rather than allowing them to generate their own income and pursue their own fulfillment in work or personal life.

Yes, machismo is more than just catcalls. It is a desire to humiliate, overpower, and oppress women in general. To me, it seems that machismo is dressed up as a cultural norm in certain parts of Latin America; it’s treated like the rude, pervy uncle of the family that simply must be tolerated cause he is not going anywhere. Indeed, machismo is a part of the culture in Latin America, and to a certain extent, we have to respect its presence. But we certainly don’t have to agree with it.

But let’s be fair- machismo is not a strictly Latin American phenomenon. We actually have a word for “machismo” in English: chauvinism. And the fight against chauvinism is ongoing throughout the world. Look at cities like New York, Paris and London, where women were not allowed to wear trousers in public places until the second half of the twentieth century. At my preparatory school in Princeton, New Jersey, women were only admitted starting in 1987. “Machismo” and its brothers Chauvinism and Sexism can be observed the world over in any male-driven society in which men suffer the delusion that they are superior to women.

Enter the world of microfinance. Every now and again on Kiva.org, when shuffling through the thousands of images of borrowers on the site, you’ll come across something special in the photo: a blurred face. Often these faces are in Palestine, Afghanistan, or Iraq. Based on the political and social environments of these areas, personally identifiable attributes of these borrowers- their appearance, their location, and sometime their names- are altered or hidden to protect him or her.

But once in a blue moon, you will stumble across a hidden name or face in other parts of the world- those considered comparably more stable, indeed, safe enough to have taken out a loan. These are the faces of women in Nicaragua, Kenya, and Mongolia. Often the husbands of Kiva borrowers do not know they have a loan out, and might find it problematic if they did know. Regrettably, in many countries where Kiva works women often need male permission to perform basic economic activities.

For this reason, many microlending partners of Kiva (for example, Fundación ESPOIR in Ecuador) require only the borrowers’ signature to take out a loan (although the law for traditional lending institutions might require the signature of both husband and wife). This allows Fundación ESPOIR’s clients to borrow money without their husband’s knowledge, which also helps safeguard the loan’s timely repayment (important note: Kiva never publishes profiles that would in any way endanger its borrowers).

I recently met such a woman during a routine borrower visit- sorry, I can’t tell you her name or where she lives. I also can’t tell her husband she has taken out a loan. But I can tell you this woman is working in the face of adversity to provide food, housing, and schooling for her children. She works incredible hours every day without any help (or financial support) from her husband. This is her fourth loan, and she repaid the last three on time without any problems.

So why, then, would husbands take issue with their wives succeeding in business, family, and microborrowing? Wouldn’t this just make their own lives easier? Primarily, there is a danger of delinquent husbands squandering loan money through gambling or drinking. However more significantly, women receiving microloans experience a shift in their role in the household.

In the impoverished areas where microfinance is targeted, “machismo” is manifested in education and health. Men receive schooling, nutrition, and health care far beyond their female counterparts. In agricultural societies, this is reinforced by physical strength’s priority over intellectual and social skills. A gendered division of labor and wide discrepancies in wages is palpable, not even questioned. Even if this environment of male domination is merely a function of economic industrial dynamics, it justifies and continues the existing and inequitable social order. For women in these families, self-realization is achieved only through marriage and procreation.

But through their loans and their entrepreneurialism, woman borrowers have begun to generate income for the family, often as much if not more than their husbands. They become the primary breadwinner. A former Kiva borrower stated that she had become “husband and wife for the family and everyone knew it.” It’s a blow to the husbands pride, hubris, indeed- his machismo.

Microfinance is decidedly a field for woman borrowers. All evidence shows that women are better micro-borrowers; they have far higher rates of repayment and successful loans. Indeed, Fundación ESPOIR (the aforementioned Kiva partner) only started letting male borrowers join into on group loans less than a year ago after a twenty-year history in Ecuador. Not only do women make better lenders in terms of repayment, but lending to women does better things for their children and the status of women in their respective societies.

Dozens of studies have shown that microfinance fosters the safety, economic self-sufficiency, health, and self-confidence of women all over the globe. It leads to downward trends in domestic violence and improves women’s abilities to participate in household decision-making. Women around the world are up against insurmountable challenges: poverty, disease, violence.

Microfinance can be a hand up (not a hand-out) to these women. Achieving social equality obviously requires a multi-sectoral approach, but there is sufficient data to suggest that women’s economic empowerment (through microfinance) can help reduce partner and targeted violence. Most incredibly, as I’ve sat in on group borrower meetings, feeling the support and care that these borrowers give each other, I’ve realized how incredible it is that rather than perpetuating “marianismo” (reverse sexism) these women are setting the foundation for a more socially equitable future.  Machismo may not be going anywhere anytime soon, and microfinance is clearly not a panacea for combating it, but loan by loan, mother by daughter, micro-borrowers throughout the world are determining their own future within a culture and an economy.

For more on dealing with “machismo” in South America, check out “Coping with the Burn,” by Nereida Heller, “Warning to Women: Thicken Your Skin, Machismo Awaits in Costa Rica” by Sebastian Kindsvater, or “Watch out for What, Exactly?” by Lizzie LaCroix. Kate Bennett is currently living in Quito, Ecuador and working as a Kiva Fellow for Fundación Alternativa. This is not is not an official Kiva Fellows blog. The views and information presented are Kate’s own and do not represent the Kiva Fellows Program, Kiva.org, or any of its partner organizations.

This past year, I had the great fortune to help found MPI’s third site in Guatemala. Collaborating and living with five other recent college graduates like myself, I helped to create a site-specific mission/vision statement, initiated education, health, and environmental programs in two neighborhoods of our community, and most importantly, established an extensive network of relationships from which MPI-Guatemala can continue to grow.

Our numerous American friends (mostly Peace Corps volunteers and other NGO employees) have maintained a running joke, in which they compare MPI-Guatemala to the MTV show “The Real World.” And frankly, they have a point. Six strangers, live together, work together, and have their lives taped. Well, our lives were not recorded, nor did we vent our deepest emotions in “confessionals” that would be shown to millions of viewers. We did however, live and work together. For a year, we shared cooking and cleaning duties, clothes and books, lesson planning and blog writing. We shared in each others’ successes, frustrations, and laughter. In many ways, the “Real World” is an apt title for this past year’s experience. Between the programs, the lessons about development, and the friendships, this past year was the most “real,” the most demanding yet fulfilling experience of my life.

Now with three weeks remaining in my term with MPI, I am faced with the daunting prospect of entering the actual real world. As if I were a senior in college, both friends and family constantly bombard me with the age-old question: “What are you doing next?” Fifteen months have passed since I graduated, yet I still do not have a clear answer. Similar to many other people who have studied or worked abroad, I finish my thirteen-month term with a renewed energy to continue in the field in which I have been focusing. So, what do I do with this energy? I would love to stay in Central America, and I would like more field experience in international development before attending a graduate school, but where do I start? In this blog, I hope to relate my experiences in searching for the next step and expound the options for the people who simply have not kicked the travel bug, or for people who are high-on-life after an experience abroad and now seek a way to sustain that enthusiasm. There are so many possibilities for our lives, and I cannot wait to share my journey of exploring them.

This is Ginny Savage’s first post with La Vida Idealist. Ginny is in the last stage of her thirteen-month commitment as a Program Director with Manna Project International-Guatemala. For more on Ginny’s experiences in Guatemala, check out her personal blog. To learn a little more about Manna Project, check out the MPI Guatemala blog, “Talking (Or Not) About Your Time Abroad” by Andrew Preston or “All That Glitters is Not Gold (Sometimes It’s Recycled Bottles)” by Kate Bennett.

At long last, the 87th switchback of Cerro 87 comes into sight. My fellow guides and our clients drop our backpacks and set up for breakfast in an ideal spot for the brilliant spectacle still to come.

As I sat munching Quetzaltrekker’s infamous oatmeal/granola concoction I saw my old friend creep up to greet the day. Right on time. The moments before a sunrise are the most beautiful. We stood in awe, too afraid to move for fear we would ruin the perfection, until finally, the sun burst up and over the mountain peak.

To any outsider the Quetzaltrekkers setup, with no boss and all-volunteers, may seem like a precarious balance. How does it work really? Every guide knows this truth within their hearts: the only thing that stands between the kids of Escuela de la Calle and abject poverty is Quetzaltrekker’s success, and this keeps the fire within us stoked and our level of determination high.

Furthermore, these kids are kids we know individually by name, face, age, dreams, fears, and those first signs of teary tantrum on-sets. Every week we get our butts kicked on the soccer field by 13-year-old boys who would make jaws drop in the United States and college scouts salivate. Most kids start learning by kicking a coke bottle on cement streets because they can’t afford a real ball.

Eventually I stopped asking, “Does this place really exist, and can this really work?” because though I can’t explain it, I know firsthand that it does work. For the volunteers it is a way to travel but simultaneously learn about the culture and help make an impact on the local community.

All of the Hogar Abierto children have sad stories to tell. The odds were against them to survive- let alone thrive. I don’t know where they find the strength, but I find my strength in them.

Raised in a culture that spends thousands of dollars for entertainment and escapism I found my sanctuary for free. Quetzaltrekkers led me into the clouds and out of the darkness both literally and metaphorically. For the first time in my life I was happy, content and making a difference. Quetzaltrekkers helped save me just as much as the children it has helped over the past fifteen years, and will hopefully continue to save in the future.

To learn more about Quetzaltrekkers and its programs (or to sign up for a hike), check out their website or this recent NY Times article on the group. For other La Vida Idealist posts on volunteering abroad in Latin America, check out “Part I: Being Quarter-life Idealists in Guatemala” by Whitney Devin, ”Now I’m Ready to Start: Five Tips for Volunteering Abroad” by Megan Kaseburg, “Finding Your Niche as a Short Term Volunteer” by Jennifer Yael Green, or  ”How to Fundraise Your Own Salary: 5 “Easy” Steps“ by Kate Bennett.

Tomorrow morning we will conquer Cerro Ochenta-Siete. That translates to Hill 87- named after the 87 switchbacks you must encounter just to get to breakfast spot. Otherwise known as ‘half-way done.’ But Cerro 87 is also my favorite part of the entire four-day, sixty kilometer trek from the town of Nebaj, Guatemala to the town of Todos Santos. While some people found it the most challenging portion of the hike, many come to recount it as their favorite in the end.

At 4 a.m. the alarm rang signaling the start to our second day. Quickly shoving my sleeping bag into my pack I whispered words of encouragement to those who looked a little anxious and trepid. For some people this would be a walk in the park, for others it would be one of the more physically demanding challenges of their lives. Group speed and ability varied dramatically hike by hike, person by person. I once took a man who had climbed Everest on our two-day trek to the highest point in Central America. Another hike found me leading a legally blind man thirteen-hundred meters down a steep mountain face.

By the time we left it was rounding 4:30 a.m., yet we would pass an average of half-a-dozen locals on our way up the well-worn path. Sometimes we would see a group of woman delicately navigating their way down through the dark, floating over the loose pebbles like ghosts. Only they had feet, and those feet were crammed in ten-cent plastic close-toed sandals. Often men would pass carrying unbelievably large amounts of wood on their back.

The most inspiring feat had to be an elderly man carrying a large wooden table four feet across and twelve-feet long down the steep mountainside. The table barely fit on the path and he had no flashlight to guide him through the darkness. We the tourists with our blinding headlamps moved to the mountainside to let him pass. As a huge toothless smile spread across his face, he chuckled an all-knowing chuckle at the sight of our group and our western ways.

After the expected and friendly “buenas días” he continued on his mission and left us there in silence and awe. My client turned to watch and her eyes followed as he disappeared around the corner. Minutes earlier she had been talking of quitting and turning around. But her mouth dropped open. “I can do this hill now,” she said. “If he can do that, I know I can do this.”

*          *          *

The most impressive thing about Quetzaltrekkers is that the statement, “one-hundred percent profits go to support children of the street,” is not just an advertising slogan. It’s the absolute truth: 100% of Hogar Abierto’s overhead is covered by Quetzaltrekker’s profits; 80% of Escuela de la Calle’s expenses are covered as well (confused about Hogar Abierto and Escuela de la Calle? Check out last week’s post, where we learn about Quetzaltrekker’s nonprofit arm.).

In a country where yes means yes and no means sure, where straight answers are hard to come by and the law is used more or less as a general guide-line, Quetzaltrekkers has proved to be the most reliable and popular trekking agency in all of Quetzaltenango. Critics say a foreign-run group takes jobs from locals, but the truth is that many more jobs are generated from Quetzaltrekkers. Through financing the school, the home, and all the behind-the-scenes people involved in our operation; for food, shelter, transportation we rely on business between locals as well. Quetzaltrekkers is very grassroots, but sometimes the best way to evoke the most change and meaningful influence is by helping handfuls.

To learn more about Quetzaltrekkers and its programs (or to sign up for a hike), check out their website or this recent NY Times article on the group. For other La Vida Idealist posts on volunteering abroad in Latin America, check out “Part I: Being Quarter-life Idealists in Guatemala” by Whitney Devin, ”Now I’m Ready to Start: Five Tips for Volunteering Abroad” by Megan Kaseburg, “Finding Your Niche as a Short Term Volunteer” by Jennifer Yael Green, or  ”How to Fundraise Your Own Salary: 5 “Easy” Steps“ by Kate Bennett. Don’t forget to stay tuned for next week’s post!