On the surface, the public and private schools don’t seem so terribly different. The layouts are similar, the student population is about the same size and the uniforms are exactly the same. But once we began to scratch the surface – to speak with the English teachers and visit a few classrooms – the vast gaps between the two became painfully clear.

Most of the students could barely manage to put together three words in English, much less understand us when we introduced ourselves. Even the majority of the English teachers struggled to hold a conversation in English. Of course, I have no doubt that they’re excellent, committed teachers, and this has more to do with Colombian teacher requirements than any sort of personal shortcoming, but the result is that the students in these schools simply don’t have the opportunity to progress as far in English as the students in my school, who are learning from my excellent, basically fluent co-teachers.

And that isn’t even mentioning the social issues. These schools are in bad neighborhoods – the kind of places that elicit gasps from Bogotanos when I tell them that I visited there. They’re located in the distant southeast of the city, so far up the mountains that visitors can practically catch the clouds in their hands (one neighborhood is actually called Entre Nubes – “between the clouds”). The people in these communities are in the very lowest socio-economic strata of Bogotá – many of them displaced persons who’ve fled from the civil conflict in other parts of the country.

One school has altered its schedule to keep high school students from having to walk home in the afternoon, when there’s too much gang activity in the streets to ensure their safety. In another school, I met Miguel, an amazing kid who spends his Saturdays walking for two hours each way to take a free university-level class in the northern part of Bogotá, because he and his mother don’t have enough money for him to take the bus.

These are not excuses for not doing homework. This is real life.

Now, granted, my school is not without its challenges. There are still classrooms stuffed with 35 students, serious social and family issues and chronic shortages of just about everything. But it’s a different world up there on the mountain, where those kids will be lucky just to graduate from high school in one piece, or at all. Where they don’t have the luxury to think about how bilingualism will qualify them for more jobs. Where just having a job is enough.

I love my school, my students and most of my co-teachers, and after just a month here, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. But it’s difficult and frustrating to think about how much deeper the need goes in other places, how much these other schools could desperately use more support, more resources, more everything.

I think that most of us who choose to work as volunteers do so at least partially as a result of some innate desire to help, a compulsion to do something when we recognize need. I realize that the work I’m doing at my school is important and I can already begin the see the impact it’s having, but there are some days when I can’t help thinking about the other schools, far away to the south, and their students – who, with the exception of geographic factors, are no different from my students – and the perfectionist and idealist in me can’t help but feel like I could be doing so much more.

The truth is, in the world of non-profits and volunteering, we could always be doing so much more. There is always another civil conflict, another unequal education system, another child trafficked across borders. We will always be capable of doing more. While I believe it’s crucial to maintain this perspective and to seek out places where we can be of service, it’s also essential to remember that each of us can only work with the tools and opportunities we have or create for ourselves. None of us can take on all of the world’s challenges alone – but, for the sake of kids like Miguel, we can keep trying.

Natalie Southwick volunteers as an English teacher for WorldTeach in Bogotá, Colombia. For more on Natalie’s adventures in Colombia, check out her blog. And to read more about challenges in Latin American schools, take a look at “Money Matters: An Awkward Request from Students” by Kimberly Friedland, “Small Frustrations and Big White Elephants” by Nereida Heller, or “La Vida: Teaching English in Quito, Ecuador” by Philip Dixon.

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.

I recently went to teach two girls in my youth group how to make cheesecake. The setting was one that made me thankful it wasn’t my home sweet home. No running water. The bathroom was a dark and stinky room with a curtain as a door. Though there was a toilet, it was connected to no plumbing, and I was thoroughly confused as to how showers were taken. As the cheesecake was being mixed, I saw a large cockroach climb up the unfinished concrete wall next to the stove. Finding a bowl big enough to mix all the ingredients was a bit of a challenge. The house had a one-room floor plan: kitchen, living room, and bedroom (for the three generations living there). The bathroom was off to the side, the door to outside was covered with a curtain. The outdoor dish sink was also the laundry sink.

And I started thinking: why me? Why am I the richer one? Why her? Why does this 14-year-old girl have to live like this? And I am reminded of the struggles other expats go through. But then I am reminded of my great aunt, a nun that has been serving the poor in upstate New York my whole life. She once told me (as we both discussed the personal effects of this economic dilemma) that if we don’t have more than the people we are helping, we would be in the same place they are — we’d never be able to help them. C.S. Lewis, in his book, Mere Christianity, said something similar:

“If I am drowning in a rapid river, a man who still has one foot on the bank may give me a hand which saves my life. Ought I to shout back (between my gasps) ‘No, it’s not fair! You have an advantage! You’re keeping one foot on the bank’? That advantage—call it ‘unfair’ if you like—is the only reason why he can be of any use to me. To what will you look for help if you will not look to that which is stronger than yourself?”

Please don’t get me wrong. I am not saving anyone’s life by teaching them how to make cheesecake. I am only trying to teach them something that might be useful in life. But generally speaking, the guilt we expats/volunteers can often feel has no roots. We’ve only been helped in life by others who were more educated, more experienced, stronger, more financially stable. (And I continue to be helped by such people.) But the cycle must continue: we cannot let guilt be our excuse for anything. It simply seems to stop us from doing and forces us to pity those around us. We stop helping and start over-analyzing. I have a flushing toilet, electricity and an array of bakeware in the place I call home. If I didn’t, I’m not sure I would have had this experience.

Gena Thomas is an English teacher and faith-based coffee shop co-manager with her husband in Mexico. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

6th grade students at a graduation ceremony in Proyecto Semilla, a school for child workers in Panajachel, Guatemala

At least, that’s the idea driving Mil Milagros, a Boston-based non-governmental organization operating in four schools around the tourist town of Panajachel in Guatemala.  Mil Milagros feeds around 600 students every day for the cost of about $1.20 per child; by feeding children a hot lunch in school, they ensure that children will finish primary school.

According to Guatemalan government statistics, 56% of the population lives in poverty and only 30% of the children in Guatemala complete sixth grade. Among Mayan girls, 79% do not finish primary school.  A recent article in The Economist put child malnutrition statistics around 80% in parts of rural Guatemala where the population is predominantly indigenous. Mil Milagros, however, believes the percentage to be much higher.

Mil Milagro’s mission is  to improve the health, well-being, and educational outcomes of children in Guatemala. High aspirations, but they fall in line with the United Nations’ equally ambitious UN Development Goals to achieve universal primary education and end poverty and childhood hunger by 2015. Mil Milagros is working to make these ideals a reality.  With day-to-day operations run almost entirely by their Guatemalan staff, Mil Milagros currently provides hot lunches to each school, nutrition classes to mothers, teaching seminars to teachers, and school supplies as well as dental and hygiene products to the students of four schools in the municipality of Sololá.

The success of Mil Milagros’ programs comes from their emphasis on strong partnerships and active participation of the teachers, parents, and students. The school of Chichimuch in Santa Lucia Utatlan serves as a glowing example: hot lunches are prepared everyday by a team of five mothers, each serving a voluntary shift every 20 or so days. While currently the hot lunches are dependent on funding provided by Mil Milagros, the community is already launching innovative fundraising programs. Last year the school purchased 140 chicks, one for every student. The children raised the chicks and after only a month the school was able to resell them, doubling their financial capital and fostering horticultural skills in the students. The schools seek to expand such programs to include school gardens and similar livestock projects.

Not only do these homegrown initiatives raise additional funds for the schools, they serve as incredible examples of capacity-building and sustainability through nonprofit work.

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

I am rich by common Mexican standards. When friends tell me about the things they long for, I find myself wanting to buy their desires for them. When we go out to eat or to a movie, I feel compelled to pay — not in a I-feel-sorry-for-you way, but in a I’m-sorry-our-lives-are-so-unfair way. Sometimes, I feel like I need to get rid of half my current possessions to even just begin to understand life here. Battling these opposing identities gets overwhelming.

When I am traveling in the States, I catch myself goo-gaaing over too many things. But on a regular basis, in my day-to-day Mexican life, I find myself ashamed of the much I own that seems so little in my own country. To have more, want less. That simple statement is incredibly difficult for this wannabe simplistic. But the simplistic I want to be still involves a washing machine, an oven and an organized closet … along with a decent wardrobe, a computer, a mp3 player, oh and of course, a car.

My great aunt Grazia started a home for the homeless in upstate New York. She told me she deals with the same issues. “In the eyes of the government and most of the people around us,” she told me rather nonchalantly, “we are on the same level as the people we serve. But in the eyes of those we serve, we are much higher than we actually are.”

She told me that we must always be a little bit higher than the people we serve, otherwise we cannot serve them. If we are in the same need category as they are, no needs would be fulfilled.

That thought helps me. Still, oftentimes I feel worlds apart from the world I’m living in.

Gena Thomas is a women’s coop laborer and faith-based coffee shop co-manager with her husband. For more on her experiences, check out her blog. For more on navigating perceptions of wealth in Latin America, check out Kent Green’s “Living the High Life (and not even knowing it).”

Photo from Flickr user 100Wasser

A few months ago I left my volunteer position with Ya’axché Conservation Trust in what I think was a career upgrade. I moved to Guatemala to start a position, hold your hats readers, with pay! Now, being the polite albeit devastatingly curious people that we all are, I’m sure you are dying to know what sort of pay a cherub-faced, 22-year-old know-nothing has been able to earn in this unforgiving economy.

But you probably wouldn’t ask in fear of breaking the sacred code of money-talk etiquette often seen in the West: Never ask how much. Conversely, Guatemalans will ask how much your left shoe cost you without a second of hesitation. Living in such a money-obsessed, impoverished community has been difficult and bitter, and at the increased exposure to the question “How much?” I find myself fretting for my personal financial future. How much will graduate school applications cost? How much will I make as a barista working part-time? How much will I possibly be able to make with a degree in sustainable development?

To quench your thirsting curiosity, I earn Q2000 a month, the equivalent of $250. Over the course of the next year, I’ll be making less than the cost of one semester of schooling at my university. The following year, I plan on spending ten times as much for graduate school. After that, I expect to pay more dues through internships and entry-level jobs making a pittance.  I seem to be welcoming a decade of debt, with wide open pockets.

I’ve been talking a lot about an article the New York Times Magazine published last weekend that shed light on the current predicament of us “emerging adults:” no spouse, no children, no financial independence, and no determined financial stability in sight. Though our paths are all different, what we have in common is our dwindling bank accounts and idealistic views leading us in directions that offer little pay, but great reward. Though I sometimes curse my inability to enjoy two bottles of wine and a wheel of cheese each week, it all comes back to the knowledge that I am working towards something I think is important, enjoyable, commendable, and just downright good.

Please don’t let small paychecks and missing comforts guide you away from a challenging life in the field. At the end of the day, you’ll know that you are accomplishing something grand.

Bridget Barry is currently a Program Associate with Limitless Horizons Ixil in Chajul, Guatemala. To read more about Bridget’s time abroad with limited economic means, check out her past entries or posts by other La Vida Idealist bloggers in Guatemala. For more on the financial challenges idealists face after coming home, check out Patrick Furlong’s “Dueling Realities” and Kimberly Friedland’s “The Well-Planned Life or Summoned Self?“

Penny hanging out at a July fourth event in northern Mexico

I moved home July 2007 after 15 months of teaching in Central America. I started dating my now husband, and he introduced me to Penny Lane.
Seven-year-old Penny has been a part of my life for three years now. She’s a 70-pound white Labrador and Shepherd mix. Her annoying white hairs weave themselves into the threads of my shirts, ruin every blanket we own and even creep underneath the plastic-covered display screen of my cell phone. But I love her more than I ever thought loving a dog was possible.

She’s lived in Mexico with us this past year, but her arthritic hind knee can’t handle much more of the desert terrain. Thorns everywhere, concrete everywhere — neither one a dog’s best friend. Living in Latin America with a pet ostracizes you a bit from the culture you’re surrounded by. Most animals just hang around, very few have names and there’s way too many people in a Mexican family to recruit a pet for the position.

I don’t spend all my time talking about her, but I find that a big part of American culture is sharing pet stories. We allow them to take a place in our culture they just wouldn’t have in others. Especially now, when we are about to part ways, I’m learning that attachment to a faithful slobberer doesn’t necessarily dehumanize the humans who also need my attention.

Gena Thomas is a women’s coop laborer and faith-based coffee shop co-manager with her husband. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

Why? I have recently returned to my home in Canada after eight months of working at a Costa Rican microfinance organization. Most of my friends have university degrees and are now working as engineers for oil companies, as finance consultants for investment firms, as managers, or studying to become a lawyer/dentist.  Many have admitted to me that they don’t see any real purpose in what they are doing, that they live for the weekend and their jobs are merely a means to an end. When I tell them that life is too short and they should look for a job that they enjoy doing, they tell me that ¨I’m too idealistic¨ or ¨There aren’t enough jobs like that out there¨ or ¨If everybody did what they wanted to do, nobody would pick up the trash.¨

All I know is that I started out as a volunteer and now I’m being paid to do work that I originally did for free. Isn’t that the goal, to do work that you would do even if you weren’t getting paid? Let’s put it this way, if I won the lottery tomorrow, I wouldn’t quit working at Fundación Mujer.

When volunteering, you meet other volunteers from all over the world. These people are fiercely motivated, not by money, but by a cause. Usually that cause is fighting against some type of injustice which they deem unacceptable. For me, this injustice is poverty,  and more specifically, the feminization of poverty.

When surrounded by people who are truly motivated by the work they are doing, you become motivated. This type of inspiration is not the type you find in organizational behavior textbooks, because it has nothing to do with carrot and stick methods or public recognition for completion of certain tasks. You find that you start to push yourself to contribute to projects and answer the question, ¨How can I best contribute to the success of this organization? ¨ You ask this question humbly and not because your boss wants you too or because you might get a bonus or extra time off if you answer it correctly, but because you want the project to succeed, and nothing more.

When you feel yourself being driven by a cause that you care about, work doesn’t seem like work. Obviously there are days when you don’t feel like waking up, when strenuous situations are presented, but what keeps you going is the people you work with, the people you work for (for me, it’s the microfinance clients) and the underlying personal meaning of the work that you do. I’m not saying that you can’t find this motivation in the corporate world, but ask yourself  this, ¨Would I still be working here if I won the lottery tomorrow?¨

If not, drop what you are doing, pick a cause you are interested in and start volunteering. You won’t regret it — nobody ever does.

Sebastian Kindsvater will be returning shortly to Costa Rica, where he is the Kiva Coordinator/Loan Officer for Fundación Mujer.

If this post has inspired you to volunteer, check out these other La Vida Idealist posts for more ideas on how to take that first step: “How to Choose a Volunteer Placement Abroad,” “Six Simple Steps for Volunteering Abroad,” “Making It Happen for Yourself,” “So You Spin the Globe…,” “It Pays To Do Some Research,” “Panning for Gold: Plucking Out the Nonprofit Gems,” “Volunteering 101: Interview Yourself,” and “Five Things to Think About When Choosing Your Volunteer Location.“

The purpose of the jornada is for the whole group to have a chance to come together to reflect and refocus on the mission behind what we are trying to accomplish at VE. It was very easy for me to become side-tracked amidst the excitement of travel, meeting new people and places, and the fact that Santiago is one big non-stop party.

We began the weekend with loads of silly team building activities and mushy talks that really set the stage for the entire weekend. We broke into small groups and discussed the multi-dimensional aspects of poverty and the endless cycles that exist within the economic classes.  The disparity between the classes here in Santiago is immense. With 18.2% of the population under the poverty line, the top 10% of the population here consumes 41.7% of resources while the bottom 10% consumes only 1.6%. The statistics are alarmingly drastic, and probably are in the country where you reside as well.

Photo of Cajón del Maipo from Flickr user Naturaleza

One of the aims of VE is to seek to improve awareness  and in turn, improve the situation for those in need. When you view poverty from an outside perspective, many times it is easy to mistake the effects of poverty for the causes, and the cycle continues. I believe a difficult cycle exists within the upper classes as well.  People who grow up with money become accustomed to having and doing certain things that are no longer recognized as privileged, but normal. My heart breaks when I think about the privileges I have been handed and taken for granted. Most of those being privileges that the children at Anakena, the school where I teach, would never imagine possible. I am not from the view that everyone should feel ashamed and guilty for taking advantage of opportunities in life. However, I do think it is our responsibility to be aware of what truly is privilege and what is necessity. Fortunately and unfortunately, those of us who have never experienced what poverty feels like will never be able to fully empathize with those who endure the oppression that poverty brings with it. We are left to strive for awareness and compassion.

During our weekend retreat, we were given free time for some reflection of our personal and professional goals as well as objectives we hope to achieve within our institutions and with the children. It was so refreshing to take the time to sit alone with nothing but your thoughts, a pen and paper. One of my personal goals in coming to Chile was to consummate my independence as a woman. The first step was getting here alone. The second step is being intentional about tracking the progress of my goals in a tangible way. Andy Garberson’s latest blog, “Location, Location, Location,” gives a really great practical way of doing this by creating a collage of “firsts” for every day.

I have learned that it really isn’t enough to simply desire to be a certain type of person, you have to live it. Someone recently told me a phrase that really stuck with me. “Let yourself be defined by your actions.” Although a simple theme, the phrase inherently carries with it a deep-rooted, yet fundamental challenge to be the person you want to be.  As I sit here in Chile, journal in hand, I bring this challenge to you. Wherever you are in life, whether you are traveling abroad in China or Latin America or you are settled in a place you call home, allow yourself to be defined by your actions, and you will actually become the person you want to be.

Lindsey Chapman is currently a volunteer with VE Global, at Colegio Anakena. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

After some thought I determined that whether or not I see poverty on a day-to-day basis, it is reasonable to allow myself to live comfortably, though not excessively. If I do decide to indulge in an occasional decadent purchase, as I did buying the jacket, this warrants an increase in generosity on my part.

Kimberly and her mom with the Santoni girls, holding up lúcuma fruit.

In the entry, I wrote that my student Judith told me her family could not afford to buy lúcuma, a fruit that I frequently enjoy here. Lúcuma, or eggfruit, only grows in high altitude, tropical climates, making it rare around the world but common in parts of this Andean region. It pained me that Judith rarely had the opportunity to taste this food native to her own land.

My mom was visiting from the States, so I asked her if, in lieu of a birthday present to me, she would buy lúcumas as a treat for the girls from Santoni, the school where Judith attends. She was of course happy to oblige.

We presented the fruit to the girls during “circle time” at the end of class, and they were thrilled. As lúcuma cost six soles (two US dollars) per kilo, most of the girls had tried them only once or twice in their lives. We also took the opportunity to impart a small nutrition lesson—fruit is better than candy and don’t forget it! —as they excitedly peeled and devoured the eggfruit.

Trite as it sounds, I felt more satisfaction from gifting that small treat to my girls than I ever would have from another excessive birthday purchase. So, thank you readers, for all the thoughtful comments that got me thinking, and giving back.

Kimberly is currently serving as Program Manager for GirlSportWorks, a US-based NGO that seeks to enhance the lives of Peruvian girls through athletics.