The international aid community has struggled with this question for years: When a country is in dire straights in almost every aspect, what is the responsibility of the international community? But wait: let’s backtrack for a moment here.

Many a U.S. citizen has heard about the so-called “War on Drugs” (the term first used by President Nixon in 1971). We have seen movies like Trainspotting and Requiem for a Dream that illustrate the dangers of addiction along with films like Traffic and Maria Full of Grace that give a glimpse into the dark side of the drug trade. We know we have an important to role to play in quashing it.

Many United Statesians are familiar with D.A.R.E. programs, Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous and efforts to legalize Marijuana. “Rehab” has been a pop culture buzzword for at least a decade now. Young, educated Americans are inundated with information about drugs, what they do, why they’re bad, why people do them anyway and (whether they know it or not) have access to a variety of rehabilitation programs should they develop a problem.

As far as the general understanding of the “War on Drugs” goes, I imagine your average American is like I was in their perception of it:

• It’s not a “real” war. Sending a bunch more DEA agents to Colombia and Mexico to root out cartels isn’t really like sending troops to Afghanistan.
• The “war” has put more users and dealers in jail (at least in the US) but it hasn’t necessarily decreased demand or production.
• We all assume that the best cocaine comes from Colombia and that the drug runner’s gateway to the U.S. in Mexico. We know that the United States is the land of consumerism. (Fun fact: The US consumes 90% of the world’s cocaine*)

But how many of us are aware of the effects the drug trade actually has on countries outside of the US. What percentage of us know that the “War on Drugs” is actually a legitimate war for many of those involved? Not very many, I wager.

Let’s take a look at Honduras. Increased efforts to weed out organized crime and corruption in Colombia and Mexico have created a vice that is essentially squeezing the violence from those two countries into the “Northern Triangle” of Central America (El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras). Put that in a context where more than 66% of Hondurans live in poverty, of which 45% live in extreme poverty (less than 2 dollars a day). Exploitation and its horrible consequences are bound to take hold.

The correlation between corruption, poverty, violence, and organized crime in Honduras is very much a chicken versus egg scenario. It’s hard to say which came first, but there is no denying that they are all part of a tangled web suffocating this country and that drug cartels play a significant role. When you look at the statistics, it is actually quite unnerving to see just how bad things have become here:

• Honduras jumped up to the #1 spot of highest murder rates in the world in 2011. In Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, the murder rate is 109 per year. In San Pedro Sula, 125.
• In the United States, the murder rate is about 6.  Yes, that’s a big difference, but let’s get even more specific: Chicago, or the “murder capital where they murder for capital” according to our man Kanye – 15 homicides (per 100,000 people) in the past year. New Orleans is the US city with the highest number on record in one year – 49.

Why, then, is there so much violence in Honduras? A variety of reasons, but mostly gangs and drugs. And why, then, hasn’t anything been done about it? In fact, why does it seem to be getting worse? Corruption and Poverty. Chicken meet Egg, Egg meet Chicken.

A large factor in the recent surge in violence throughout the country was the coup d’état in 2009. After the coup, there was a substantial amount of political instability and uncertainty that opened a window for gangs and cartels to increase their influence and power. Once the country was stabilized, it was too late. Organized crime had already bought its influence and the Lobo administration has been facing those consequences ever since. The most frustrating thing about situations like this is that there is not very much anybody can do about it; at least not from the outside.

What needs to happen is a mix of things that come from within the country. This signifies that the people of Honduras must work together to stand up for themselves and hold people accountable for their actions. That the government needs to weed out corruption and do what they need to do to actually uphold the law to protect its citizens.  This is all much easier said than done provided that corruption is currently rampant throughout the police force as well as among elected officials, and people who stand up to gangs and other abusers of peace are often killed as an example to the rest of the community.

It is a sad and dangerous situation that provides a significant challenge to international volunteers and organizations. There are still a lot of good works to be done to support and empower Hondurans in their efforts to improve their economic situation and standard of living.

However, the question that comes to mind in situations like this is: when is it necessary to step away? Is it “tough love” in the best interest of the country to let them figure things out on their own? Or is it abandoning them in their time of need? So coming back to the beginning: the international aid community has struggled with these questions for years. But what is the role of the international community- nonprofit organizations, states and governments, and the humble volunteer- when a country is struggling from bottom up?

Disclaimer: The contents of this article are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps. Amanda is currently a Municipal Development Advisor for the Peace Corps in Honduras. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

But please don’t interpret this as whining. I embrace these incidences for what they are: tests of my fortitude and my optimism. They also up my street credit as a backpacker.

A man on a chicken bus, via Flickr user Geoff Gallice (Creative Commons)

But as I said, I’ve come to expect major discouragements like these to crop up at least once every trip. And as per my current travels in Guatemala, I have not been disappointed. Last weekend found me headed toward Quetzaltenango to try to catch a game of their fútbol team, the Xelajú. I was in good spirits as I had a soccer game to look forward to and because chicken buses are always a fun and hectic experience. At our last bus transfer before Xela, I hopped off the bus with considerable gusto and was elated to discover that our final bus was a charter bus — costs a little more, but you get an actual seat and sometimes there’s even a movie!

But I scarcely had time to listen for the usual dubbed Spanish before I noticed that my bag was unzipped and my wallet and camera had gone missing. My heart dropped.  I jumped off of the bus (with something akin to gusto, only more panic-ridden), and I ran to the last bus transfer point where I watched the last bus speed away and several seemingly suspicious and all-too-happy looking characters stalk off into the distance. I couldn’t tell if my things had been stolen or if my animated leap off of the last bus had sent them flying into the air without my notice. I sighed, and climbed back onto the charter bus with my friends.

But losing my wallet in Xela that day was a best case scenario: I immediately called the bank from my phone to cancel my debit card and I had luckily left my credit cards and a secret stash of U.S. dollars at the house in Solola. Not to mention I was traveling with four friends who were all too happy to lend me money for the rest of the weekend. Though we actually missed the Xelajú game, we still had an awesome time playing foosball at Xela’s Pool & Beer. And in a glorious twist of fate, I won every round.

Kate Bennett is currently researching nonprofit effectiveness in Guatemala. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

Impunity amongst the Brazilian Police is a lasting legacy from the military dictatorship when many officers were not held accountable for the crimes they committed. Today, certain divisions of military police continue to act with disregard as immense corruption among the ranks has skewed and clouded the perception of punishable activity.

Mafia-like corruption and violence is rampant both in the ranks of the drug traffickers and within the ranks of police officers. Highly armed drug traffickers strictly govern the urban favelas and defend their turf from rival gangs and from the police. Meanwhile, Brazilian police continue to fuel the violence by acting viciously and purposefully outside the law.

A new policing approach is necessary to ensure the immediate safety for all citizens of Rio and to lay the foundation for a long-term crime-fighting strategy in the years ahead. One new strategy designed to hold the police accountable for their actions is called the Unidade de Polícia Pacificadora (UPP).

UPPs, or Peacemaker Police Units, refer to the groups of police who are beginning to enter, set up shop in, and control favelas in the Zona Sul by restricting the activities of drug traffickers.

As opposed to the sporadic and violent raids conducted by the police to seize drugs and arms, the establishments of UPPs are forcing the peaceful integration of police into these communities. Such reforms are already reducing the rates of crime and violence.

But if the drug traffickers are being expelled from the favelas in the Zona Sul of Rio, where are they going to operate next? Will the corrupt militias of police eventually turn to selling drugs in order to fill the void left by the traffickers? Only time will tell…

One of them escaped from under the fence, and we all began to retreat. The dog bit one of my friends on the behind, one of my friends on the thigh, and me, right behind the knee. After being terrorized for some time, the caretaker eventually came to collect the dog that escaped.

The following day, our group met at the 10^th Delegacy Police Department in Botafogo at 7:15 p.m. to make a formal statement. We wanted to inquire about health of the dogs and to simply make sure the fence is repaired to prevent further injuries. We were met with complete resistance and hostility from the authorities – and they proceeded to mock us, fight us, yell at us, impugn us, and accuse us at every opportunity. We sat in the precinct for 4.5 hours before successfully filing our statement.

Throughout the duration of this lengthy and enduring process, I couldn’t help but think that the Brazilian Federal and Civil Police frequently make true victims feel like the culprit.

This practice is repeated in the favelas when the police invade and kill “suspected drug traffickers.” It’s certainly possible that all the suspected drug traffickers are culprits. But it’s also very likely that the police may have killed an innocent victim that they shouldn’t have. Unfortunately, the legal system is so knotted with red tape, no one will ever know.

Also unfortunate is the fact that many officers in Brazil are overworked, underpaid, and couldn’t care less. The legislative process is also arduous and exceedingly complicated. So, in the words of my mother, if you want something done right, you need to do it yourself.

Do your homework about safety. Learn the local laws. Find out what your rights are. Read the small print. Ask questions. Get health insurance. If you have a problem, tell everyone you know! But you need to be prepared to help yourself.