Thank you ... my house.

The house in San Antonio Aguas Calientes, Guatemala is coming together though needs a couple more weeks for completion. On May 18, 2008 approximately 50 people including the construction crew and their familes, family members of Estela's, the indigenous neighbors and several donors from the United States participated in a (premature, as it turned out) housewarming party. One of the donors brought sidewalk chalk and encouraged the children to write and draw on the unfinished walls. There was a trash collection contest and, with the inducement of prizes, the children filled 12 large trash bags in about 15 minutes. Some of the rooms had been plastered and had concrete floors (tile is coming). In one of the almost completed rooms Alexander was stunned to find a local painting of his favorite flower, cartouches or calla lillies. The plaster, the paint (also coming), the concrete roof, the windows, the shower, the six rooms are all very, very new to this family. When Alexander was told that a particular visitor from the US had donated money for the house he turned to her and said very carefully in English "thank you ... my house."

Estela still can't believe her good fortune and is regularly reduced to tears during her meal time prayers. Her father pictured below couldn't stop saying "gracias" at the fiesta. Astrid does gymnastics in the yet unplanted garden and the children have already made friends with the indigenous neighbors. Those neighbors live in a house of cane with a dirt floor. They sleep on the ground, have municipal water (not drinkable) but neither electricity nor sewer service. They do send their children to school. They boil their drinking water and do all their cooking over a camp fire on the ground in a smoke-filled room. Mom spends her days weaving with a backstrap loom hoping to sell a piece of textile goods; Dad picks corn and beans when they are in season and has yet to travel to Antigua, some 15 minutes away. We brought them two water filters and it was quite remarkable to watch Estela who has only had her own water filter for about six months teach the neighbors how to use their filters and explain how easy it was going to be have clean drinking water. Estela and Alexander (who had a vasectomy in March) talked with the neighbors about the need to limit their family which currently numbers seven children. It turns out that mom is beyond that age. A US donor has just provided the funds to buy two fuel-efficient, safe stoves with outside ventilation for the neighbors. They will be installed early in June.

Bunk beds have been purchased for Jackie, Astrid and Denis each with their names on them ("Amigos" on the spare bed) in colorful letters. An artist friend has made study desks for the childrens' rooms. Estela will have a real stove for the first time.

Alexander plans to plant grass in the garden so he and Denis can play soccer together. Once the house is completed Estela and Alexander will be asked to contribute monthly a nomimal amount to Constru Casa for four years to facilitate the building of yet another home for people like themselves (perhaps even their own neighbors).


The Jocote tree has been seriously pruned to make way for the house but it is prospering and bearing fruit and still provides entertainment for young children who have never before had a safe place to play.



"All that is required to get poor people out of poverty is for us to create an enabling environment for them. If I could make so many people happy with a tiny amount of money, why not do more of it?" Mohammad Yunus, author of Creating a World without Poverty, founder of The Grameen Bank and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize

Casa Increible!

As you can see from the photo the Jocote tree is starting to bloom as is the little house in San Antonio Aquas Calientes, Sacatapequez, Guatemala. A multitude of volunteers have shown up wanting to be a part of the experience of creating a home for a family who has never had one. Gringo, gringa, child, adult, even a young neighbor who could haul more cinder blocks on his back than any one us. Those not up to hauling 1200 cinderblocks 30 yards from the street turned up at midday with lunch for the whole crew. The children wandered up the street to a “tienda” and bought five pounds of Puppy Chow for the obviously starving puppy belonging to the only neighbors who live in a “casa tipica” of bamboo walls and dirt floors. They thanked us profusely and the little puppy quickly figured that his or hers ship had come in and ate himself or herself into a near coma.

When I arrived in Guatemala in early March Alexander picked me up at the airport and en route to Antigua we talked about the imminent start of the first real home he has ever known. He told me that he didn’t have the words to describe how he felt about it. I suggested that we might call the house “Casa de Milagros” (house of miracles) and he laughed a bit and said “Casa Increible.” Ground breaking was on schedule Monday, March 10th. Three hombres with three shovels. The first load of cinder blocks arrived. Alexander, myself, his 12-year old daughter, Jackie, and one hombre unloaded and stacked 400 cinder blocks. We had a friendly greeting from the “casa tipica” neighbors. The women and female children (of which there are many) were dressed in “traje,” the hand-woven, indigenous dress. Grandma works much of the time at her backstrap loom weaving away in the hope of selling a few pieces for a few quetzals at the town artisans’ market. We needed to gain permission to remove some trees on the property lines that had already been topped off by the neighbor for firewood. In a short time all the neighbors showed up, introduced themselves and readily agreed to all of the requests. I was amazed at how easy it was. Alexander who has lived for years in a somewhat hostile environment of in-laws and petty criminals was equally amazed and he quickly became the man of the (almost) house negotiating with the neighbors on various issues.


This is also the season of Semana Santa (Holy Week). Work on the house will stop for most of the week as will most other work. During Lent there are “velaciones” on Friday evenings in the local churches and processions on Sundays, each grander than the last. Various churches sponsor the processions which frequently last in excess of twelve hours. The men wear purple, the women black. Each church has a “float” (made of mahogany and weighing several thousand pounds) for Jesus and a smaller one for Mary. In most cases the Jesus and Mary figures are several hundred years old with stories of their own. People who live along the route of the processions spend the previous night making carpets of colored sawdust, flowers and fruit. Alexander tells of being hungry as a child and running along behind the processions picking up the fruit. The "alfombra" (carpet) pictured is one created by Alexander and two friends in front of Pollo Campero on the Alameda for the Palm Sunday La Merced procession. It is a wonderful time to be in Antigua to appreciate the passion of the people and enjoy the endless festivities. Even the most jaded non-believer can't help but get caught up in it.

The Jocote Tree

Jocotes are a treasured fruit in the highlands of Guatemala, small, round, yellow or green and red. They are very sweet and about the size of a small plum. Too small to interest most gringos but to have a jocote tree is a good thing to a Guatemalan, especially to a child.

Purchasing a small lot in Guatemala fell into place as things do when they are meant to happen. The lot, that in the eyes of Alexander and Estela fell from heaven, quickly became a reality after engaging a Guatemalan attorney to handle the transaction. A lovely Dutch woman turned up; she is an engineer and runs a non-profit that builds decent houses for the poor. http://www.construcasa.org/ Caroline agreed to share her resources in the building of the house. We decided to build around the jocote tree.

I visited the current home of Alex and Estela where the five of them share a room that is approximately 12’ by 16’. The children proudly called out their numbers in English as I paced off the room which contains two double beds, the refrigerator I had bought last year for Estela’s birthday, the television, a small table for the children to do their homework and a bookshelf containing pots, pans, the convection oven that was a Christmas present a year ago, kitty litter (also a gift) and more. The television sat on a table under which the children’s books (almost unknown in the average Guatemalan home) were neatly lined up. There was only one light in the ceiling and only one window that opened into a small room up a few steps that held the “pila” (Guatemalan sink used for bathing, laundry, washing dishes), a hot plate for cooking, an Ecofilter for filtering their drinking water and two large, falling apart wall units that held the clothing, dishes and other assorted paraphernalia for five people, one dog and one kitten. It was clean and neat but it was full. There was no bedding other than a thin cover on the beds and no pillows. It was all bare concrete, dark and the few windows had bars over them but no glass. The bathroom that Estela had borrowed Q3000 (US $400) to build contained only a toilet and was outside somewhere. Alex showed me the one photo he had of his deceased mother working in a stall in the Antigua market. He had a few photos of himself as a “solito” teen but no baby pictures. He had five or six photos of Estela and the children and one baby photo of Denis. The cinderblock walls were “decorated” with a collection of quite obviously free calendars and there were a few electrical cords strung around to connect appliances. Alex proudly showed me the bicycle that he had bought for his son’s last birthday. It had cost him a month’s earnings

I told the family that their mother and I were meeting with the Dutch lady about the design of the house. I asked “who wants hot water for the shower (they have never had a shower before)?” Eight-year old Astrid, who has enjoyed the occasional hot shower at my house) shot up her hand followed by the hands of the two older children. Alex and Estela, neither of whom have ever had a hot shower in their lives would only say “whatever you think.” I asked nine-year old Denis, who has never slept alone in his life, if he wanted to have his own room and got a big grin and a big “si” in response. In my mind I added three desks, three chairs and three reading lights to the list of minimal necessities. It boggled my mind that these three children could be excelling in school with neither a place to do their homework nor any light to do it by. They were doing their homework anyway because they wanted to. As the front door of their house opens directly onto the street the only place the children can play is in the street.

It is easy to think that the poor don’t yearn for the things that they have never had nor experienced or that somehow we all adapt to our circumstances. I spent several hours talking with Alexander. For the first time I was able to understand the pain of poverty. Not just poverty of things but poverty of dignity, poverty of opportunity, poverty of spirit and poverty of hope. He showed me a photo of himself receiving his sixth grade (and only) diploma. He was wearing a white shirt and tie but there was no one there to witness his achievement. He had liked school, especially math and history and, he said with a grin, “We got to play basketball.” Alex spoke sadly about the fact that his only possessions consisted of an old television that a gringo was tossing out and the DVD player that I had bought him three years before. We talked about the prospects of positive changes in his relationship with Estela in the new house where there would be some private space for everyone. We talked about Alex feeling like he had a home for the first time in his 31 years. I wondered if he would be able to truly come in from the street.

I had also taken time to talk with Estela. Alex and Estela have been together for 13 years and seem to really like each other but poverty has made their relationship fairly rocky. I had them each tell me the good things and bad things about each other. Estela told me how it had felt when her kids were hungry and she had nothing to feed them and no money. She spoke glowingly of how Alexander had borrowed money to buy medicine when the children were sick. Alex talked about what a wonderful mother Estela was but that he worries about her strong character (which may be necessary to keep him in line).

With some friends I went to Lake Atitlan for a few days. Alex drove. We paid him for the ride and for his time and had him stay with us. It made him nervous that he couldn’t work but I had bought him a gardening book and he spent an entire afternoon reading not only the gardening book but also a book about speaking English. With some others we took a boat to a small Mayan village and visited a community library, a project of the Riecken Foundation (http://www.riecken.org/en.org/) where twenty or so of us sat around a table. Gringo, Guatemalteco, indigenous, educated, not. Alex sat next to me and when it was his turn to introduce himself he very self-assuredly talked about how wonderful the library was and how excited he was to meet so many people who were trying to help the people of Guatemala. I was rendered speechless by his remarks.

Thanks to ConstruCasa we have a design that will not only save the Jocote tree, its sweet fruit and potential for a tree house, but it will also have a view of the ever erupting Fuego volcano. The construction costs will be greatly minimized by the discounted building supplies available to ConstruCasa. In a few short weeks I am confident that I can find $17,000 of tax deductible donations for ConstruCasa so that the house with a bedroom for everyone can be started in March and completed in May. Volunteers are welcome the first half of May to help with the finish work, including the tree house, and to join in for the housewarming party and witness the transformation of one family who has never even dared to dream about having a refrigerator much less a decent home.

Antigua Taxi #36

Jaqueline, Astrid, Denis and "Papa." Papa Alex was abandoned by his mother as a toddler. When his grandmother died he was allowed to sleep in his school. A friend who was in "basico" (middle school) paid for his books and backpack. He worked after school for food and his friend often slept in the school with him so he wouldn't be alone. After the 6th grade Alex was on his own. He remains friends with the fellow who bought his books; he is now a teacher.

In November of this year Alexander drove us to Lake Atitlan. As the children were out of school I encouraged him to bring his son along. Neither father nor son had ever been on a boat before and Denis, like his mother and sisters, had only ever heard of Lake Atitlan. Though it was clearly a challenge for Alexander to take a day off from working both enjoyed the journey around the lake on "la lancha" and even spent some time at the Posada de Santiago trying together to get a kite aloft. Both are very happy that "Papa" didn't leave for the United States.

December 2007

2007 was the year that Selena and George decided that they wanted to live with their "Auntie Joan." Their mother, pregnant with her fourth child by her third hombre and once again out of work, would have none of it. She declared Auntie Joan "the enemy" and took her kids kicking and screaming back into the ghetto. No more private school, no more homework assistance, no more piano lessons. Selena's braces were removed prematurely as her mother couldn't be trusted to take her for follow-up care. No more school sporting events, no more birthday parties, no more puppy (Taco Bella lives with Auntie Joan now), no more trips, no more horseback riding for Selena, no more piano recitals for George who had a passion for Beethoven and could, at age 8, play "Ode to Joy" in several different keys.

When last heard from the family of many last names had lost their home purchased with a sub-prime loan by "Carlos" (step-father #1 (George) and #2 (Selena)) who is not only illegal but had no social security # (of his own) or money. How does that happen? Is it any wonder that the mortgage market is in a state of chaos? They are apparently once again living in the tiny, shabby house in East (not to be confused with West) Menlo Park and back in a ghetto school in East Palo Alto, the one-time "murder capital of the United States." Selena is no doubt once again struggling in school as her mother has also denied her support for her ADHD which consisted of educational therapy and medication.

Hopefully, they got some Toys for Tots from Santa Claus. Last year George rode the fire engine with the Woodside Fire Department and distributed toys that he had selected himself and purchased with Rotary Club funds. Selena spent the holidays last year in Guatemala where she experienced the best kind of mothering from my housekeeper, Estela. Estela just accepted Selena as another one of her children and though desperately poor Estela bought a modest Christmas gift for all four of the children. It is true that it is the thought that counts. Selena had never received a gift of any kind from her own mother. Estela took Selena to their one-room cinder block and lamina house and had her join the neighborhood Christmas posada with her own children. Estela's husband, Alexander, was equally kind to the Hispanic child with braces and a gringa haircut who was at ease in either language. For the first time ever Selena briefly experienced what it might have been like to have had a father. It was very hard for Selena to say "adios" to this Guatemalan family who frequently had only rice, beans and tortillas to eat yet offered her such a wealth of caring, acceptance and affection. A year later Estela and Alex ask each time I see them if I have heard from Selena. There is no doubt in my mind that one day Selena's mother will pay "big-time" for what she has done to her children. Hopefully, the children are resilient enough to find their way out without too many scars.

Mid-year I arrived in Antigua to find that, for a variety of reasons, Alexander had given up all hope of ever getting ahead in Guatemala. He had made up his mind that he was going to leave for the US. His taxi had been stolen and he was renting a car which was costing him more than he could make. Estela and the children were distraught convinced that he was going to die in his attempt to cross the border. Things do seem to happen for a reason and I quickly realized that it would be cheaper for me to support Alexander in Guatemala than in the Bay area. A contract was hammered out and I bought a 1993 Toyota Corolla (with a 1998 engine) ... Antigua Taxi #36. Having been on the other side of illegal immigration in dealing with Selena's mother it became very obvious to me that the "solution" is intervention at the source. Make it possible for them to stay in their home countries and keep the families intact. Sometime later Alexander asked me if he could call me "Tia Joan" as he has no family (none) and I was the only person who had ever helped him.

So, Tia Joan rides herd on Alexander and make sure that some of his profits go to his family and even a bit more each month goes into a savings account which is in Estela's name. Their three children are about to start their second year in a private school in Antigua courtesy of Tia Joan. The government schools in Guatemala are hopeless, the private schools a bit better. The children are very bright and all three mention "matematica" as their favorite subject. In January (the Guatemalan school "summer" break is during the coffee picking season October - January so the kids can work) the oldest, Jacqueline, who is 12 will be the first person in her family to attend the 7th grade. I let them use the computer in my house and Denis, 9, already knows how to download musica. Astrid, 8, was the first grade valedictorian and is determined to grow up and be a gringa. Hopefully, by the time she grows up she will realize that she doesn't have to be a gringa to be successful.

Shortly after the New Year I hope to finalize the purchase of a small piece of land in the pueblo of San Antonio Aguas Calientes which is about ten minutes by car from Antigua. It is only 15 meters by 18 meters but, Estela tells me, it is four times the size of their current dwelling where they share a latrine and a kitchen with other families. It has a valley and volcano view that would cost millions in the Bay area. One of my (many) Spanish teachers who lives in that village found the lot. Assuming that the current owner is not selling the lot over and over (this is, after all, Guatemala) as will be determined by an attorney we will start planning a modest home with a kitchen, a flushing toilet and even a shower (their first ever) and a small garden. Estela thanks "el Senor" daily in her prayers for things she never, ever expected to have and thinks that I have been sent by God. So in the year of 2007 I have gone from being "the enemy" to being a gift from God. A staggering journey. Stay tuned!