sustainability or pollo campero

The other day I was sitting in front of Pollo Campero (think Guatemalan KFC), waiting for a ride. A little girl came and asked for a coin. I didn't have one. She sat down and I started talking to her. Ten years old. Not in school. Doesn't know the alphabet. Never been inside a Pollo Campero. Her twenty-year-old tatooed sister with two children sat, begging, about 15 yards away. I invited them all in for a chicken dinner. Did it fix anything? No. Did it create dependency? Maybe. Did it reinforce begging? Probably. Was it the right thing to do?

Sustainability is the hot issue in the development world. Can the project sustain itself? Is it financially viable? Is it scalable? Is it profitable? What's the effect on the environment? Is it creating dependency? Is it teaching self-sufficiency? All these questions are crucial. There are too many stories of people with wonderful intentions who come and make a mess of things, and then, of course, are the billions of dollars of government interventions which are wasted. In Bangladesh I saw a multi-million dollar fishpond investment standing empty. Some foreign government had sent the money, the project was left half-completed and now stands as a memorial to ill-advised planning. Here in Guatemala we have been told stories about how LDS Church members from rural communities will take off their shoes, dress-up "really cute Lamanite" and go begging every time a Book of Mormon tour bus carrying North Americans rolls into town. I don't fault the rural members...they are doing the most economically rational thing they could possibly do, and their needs are real...but somehow it doesn't seem like the best solution.

On the other hand, solutions such as microcredit (when done well) have proven to be highly effective. The repayment statistics are incredible, the money is given directly to the poor and the capital is used to generate employment. But microcredit is not without its critics. It has been argued that microcredit doesn't reach the poorest of the poor, that MFIs (microfinance institutions) that focus on financial sustainability become as bad as the money lenders they seek to replace (google Compartamos), and that microcredit doesn't really provide a ladder to the formal economy, but instead allows people to eke by. Personally, I don't agree with those critics. I'll admit that mainstream microcredit is probably not a viable solution for the poorest of the poor (crippled beggars, the sick, the elderly, street children) but I don't see why someone would criticize helping a person who makes $2/day instead of $1. We just need to continue to seek out solutions for those microcredit doesn't help currently. As for financial viability--I'm convinced by the scaling argument. If only donor-funded microcredit is "pure" because it charges incredibly low interest rates, we'll never reach the required scale to really help the world's poor. And I do believe in the power of the market to dictate interest rates, especially as more and more MFI's spring up. Finally, the recipients of microcredit may never really grow their businesses beyond subsistance levels, but their children are going to school and the real effects make take a generation to see...

So what does this all have to do with the school? I guess I'm inclined towards the side of financial sustainability. We are making progress right now. We're reviewing the school's finances, we're reworking the organization and we are trying to lay the groundwork to grow the school. We will try to look for the best/most effective ways to use donations. The goal of financial sustainability requires hard decisions...what do you do when a family that is not on scholarship ceases to pay tuition--should they be asked to leave? Should they be allowed to enroll indefinately just because they have a sad story? I think these are cases best judged individually, but certainly there has to be a mix...

I have reflected on my experience here with the school, as well as with the beggars and finally came to some conclusions. On a systemic level, I think you have to push for sustainability (financial and otherwise) to have any real impact. As ProGuate moves forward, I think we will emphasize this more and more. On a personal level, however, I think we have been commanded to give, to succor, to love, without asking questions. So did I do the right thing by buying a chicken lunch for a family of beggars? Maybe not, but I would do it again.

the bus, fear and consequence

Another tri-topic entry. Three days ago a bomb went off on a bus. Nobody knows much, but my guess is that it was the local gangs...One version of the story is that the driver didn't pay his "war taxes." It happened in the city, but on a bus headed for Palencia--a route that I've taken as recently as two weeks ago. Fortunately it was the work of amateurs and while four people ended up gravely injured, no one died. The use of a bomb was new--a scary development in a city already full of bullet holes.

Which leads me to the next topic--fear. Some people here (not all, but many) live in a constant state of fear. Not a rational fear, but a deep, unnerving sense that I think in large part comes from violence that can't be explained. It's one thing to say, "there was a gang related shooting and a gang banger died." As tragic as it is, there is the underlying feeling that there was a reason and that it is explainable, if not predictable. This is the kind of occurence that we point to when we tell our children "be home before midnight" or "don't hang out with the wrong crowd." The implication is that as long as you are good, hang out with the right people, say your prayers and do what is right, you'll be fine. But that's not how it is in Zona 18. Instead, it's violence that can't be explained--good people who for no apparent reason, end up on the nightly news. And it isn't just faceless strangers; it's the neighbors kid or your brother-in-law's best friend. And so people end up afraid--afraid to go out, afraid to speak up, afraid to report crime (this is a MAJOR problem), afraid to live their lives. I do believe, however, that the fear often surpasses the reality. Despite the dangers, I think that often times people give in to fear that is almost irrational. The most widely read newspaper doesn't help--pictures of the dead and dying and those weeping for them. The fear prevents people from acting--from banding together, from reporting crime, from reaching out to others. Every 17 year-old with spikey hair is treated far too seriously. The fear plays into the gangs' hands. Despite the danger of gang violence, I'm sure that far more people die in car wrecks (especially given how people drive around here) and yet no one is traumatized every time they hop in their car. I'm not advocating wrecklessness or bravado--just a different approach. 17 year kids with guns are still just 17 year old kids...Let's deal with the problem without the fear that plays into their hands.

Finally (gosh I'm feeling long-winded) consequences. It's been interesting lately with the school. We've been working on the functioning of teams. It's gone well with some of the groups. Basico teachers (whose students are 13-16) have done especially well. But it hasn't come without cost. Yesterday the group made the decision that one of the teachers needed to be fired. They had worked with this individual for three years, tried multiple times to get this teacher to function as needed and finally last week delivered an ultimatum that he either improve or find work elsewhere. The group was given the responsibility for smooth functioning and given the authority to implement this decision, due to my work here in the school. I spoke with the director and she agreed that it was something that should have happened long ago, but she just never had the heart to fire the guy. I'm glad to see the team take responsibility and make hard decisions. But it also makes me think that change never comes without pain. It makes me think about the consequences (good, bad, painful) of what I'm doing here. There will be sacrifices, but in the end I believe that a greater good will be served.

Motorcycles, Bacteria and Sustainability

It's been a better past week. Everyone seems to be over their illnesses. We had to take my daughter (who turned 1 last week) to a local pediatrition to get her treated for diarrhea. The doc seemed competent, but the location was enough to make you nervous. It was small, dark, dingy and in the middle of a tough part of town. We had to take her because we weren't sure if she had parasites or bacteria...it was bacteria. She's on antibiotics and doing much better.

We also saw a motorcycle rally last week. La Caravana del Zorro. 40,000+ motorcyclists headed to Esquipulas to ask blessings from El Cristo Negro. Pretty cool to see that many motorcycles. We sat on the highway watching for more than an hour before the fumes started getting to us and we headed home.

Work here at the school is making slow progress. I've been able to go through the financials as well as continue work on teamwork and other organizational issues. Looking at everything closely, I really believe that in this location, a for-profit solution is the best answer. There is poverty, but there are also more resources than you would find in a place like Bangladesh or even Quiche (Guatemala). The major issues in this place are related to violence, abuse, lack of opportunity for progress, etc. I really believe in the power of the school to combat these problems. But I also believe that there are enough students who can pay to subsidize those who can't...And I think that with some help on financial management systems, the school will be capable of running on its own. And if they can, then it's better for everyone if they do. In addition, financial sustainability means the possibility to scale...hopefully this school will serve as a model for future schools. There is certainly a lot of work to do, but I'm optimistic.

Some days are like this...

How to begin today? I think you have to experience the desperation of the tangled mess of third world traffic first-hand to really appreciate it. Imagine leaving at 5:00am to try to beat the crowds only to get stuck behind busses belching black smoke and angry honking motorists. Lines of cars constantly wedge into every conceivable space, and your if lane looks clear, you better be prepared for trucks, busses, cars and motorcycles to start flowing right towards you, in the wrong lane. The result for us in the past week has been three minor wrecks and a lot of hand wringing...Some days I wish I was working some kind of project in a forgotten valley somewhere instead of in the heart of the monster that is Guatemala City...

Aside from the traffic, I've downed an entire bottle of Pepto Bismol in the last three days with no end in sight. Fortunately, Teresa and Halle have been spared.

On the bright side, we went to the beach on Saturday, and other than the detail above, it was a fabulous trip.

Again, looking to the positive, the funds that we received prior to the trip have been well utilized. They were used to buy desks for two different classrooms and a whiteboard. This will make a big difference for the children. The faculty and staff are very grateful. Look for pictures soon! (I forgot my camera today). Despite the challenges, it really is wonderful to be here.

11 days...

We've now been here 11 days. Slowly we're working out a routine. I go to the school 3 days each week and stay home (at Berly and Oscar's house in Palencia) the other two. Fortunately I've been able to keep my job as a research assistant so the days I'm home I try to get as much done as possible. Teresa and Halle are home every day, which is comfortable, but at times a bit boring for Teresa. Hopefully she'll get to know some more of the neighbors soon to build more of a social network. But she is a trooper and doesn't complain.

The work with the school is going well. It has been a great opportunity for me to apply the organizational consulting skills I learned in the MBA program. The school is a classic case of an organization suffering from its own success. Berly, the director, has created a school that is much admired for its quality. Under her direction the school has grown from 100 students to 284 and is recognized as one of the best in the area. She is an incredibly gifted educator. But as the school has grown, there are new challenges, especially concerning the best way to manage the organization. Currently Berly runs around focusing entirely on the educational aspects and putting out fires, but never looking at the system as a whole. My job is to examine the system and try to figure out how to make the whole thing run smoother. So far we've made small but important steps in terms of teamwork and the decision making process. It's going to be a great learning experience for me; I'm really enjoying the challenge. Hopefully this eventually translates into better education at lower cost for more students...

It's interesting to be here in Guatemala. It's such a beautiful country with such wonderful people. At the same time there is a strong and dangerous undercurrent of violence and fear. We're constantly bombarded with terrifying stories--the grandfather that didn't pay off the gangs and was kidnapped and then his body sent to his family piece at a time, the kidnap and rape of a young girl, the murder of a father by the police because he turned them in for stealing his car...and the list goes on. And these stories aren't urban legends, they are friends and acquantances of our friends here. This fear taints what would otherwise be an idyllic picture...And yet our experience has been completely the opposite: the love of friends, the kindness of strangers, meals shared by those who can't afford to feed themselves. Strange and sad, but such is life.

Safe and Sound in Guatemala

Well, we all made it here is one piece. We have been in Guatemala almost 1 week. Things are going well and we are settling into somewhat of a routine. We are living in a small town called Palencia, about 1/2 hour outside of Guatemala city. Several days a week Chris will be at the school working on organizational consulting stuff. I will let him write about that. Halle and I will be home most days, but will occasionally accompany Chris to the school. We are lucky to be staying in a nice house with a beautiful little yard. Halle is loving all these new surroundings she has to explore.

During our week here there have been a couple of experiences that have caused me some reflection that I would like to share. The other day we went to eat at a little place (you can't really call it a restaurant-it was just an eating place). A dirty, barefoot little boy that appeared to be around 6 years old approached us asking for money. Berly (the director of the school and also the mother of the family we are staying with) offered him her meal. His face fell, however, when she told himto stay right there and eat it. (so that we could return the dishes when he was done). He said his little brother (maybe four years old) was across the way also asking for money and he wanted to share with him. Berly had the food put in a bag and the little boy ran off, a huge smile on his face, anxious to share his spoils with his brother.

Later that day we went to the store. We needed some "American" things so we went to Guatemala's equivalent of Wal-Mart. We bought a play pen, some diapers and formula, some toiletries and snacks. Our total came to about 1,400 Quetzales, and Chris and I commented to each other that that is comparable to what many people make here in a month.

I tell Chris whenever I start getting materialistic, just take me to an underdeveloped country.It seems to cure me for a while. We truly have so much for which to be grateful.

So how did all this start?

I used to teach middle school. One of the (many) upsides was the summer vacation. In 2006 my wife and I decided to go down to Guatemala for 5 weeks during our time off...well, during my time off...my wife had to quit her job (that's her traveling in the back of a pick-up). We chose Guatemala randomly and stayed in the home of one of my middle school students who was from that country. Turned out that it was in a rough part of the city, which made life interesting. We found a little school and started volunteering. I wrote the following about our experience:

The streets of Guatemala City come alive early. At 4 a.m. the horns are blaring and the vendors are calling, each hawking his wares up and down the small residential street where we are living. I am aware that the noise has been going for some time when I finally roll out of bed. I check my watch. By five-thirty my wife and I need to be up to get ready for the day. I walk across the cold tile floor and flick the light switch. Nothing happens. Out of curiosity I walk into the bathroom and turn on the faucet. A few leaky drips fall and then nothing. No light or showers today; I suppose we can sleep for another half-hour.

The days are finally focusing into a pattern. We wake, eat a breakfast of fresh bread and maybe some beans and plantains if we’re lucky, catch a school bus that a friend of ours drives, get off near his house and then walk around the corner towards the school where we are volunteering. The streets are busy in the city and we are getting used to the stares of the people. I am a head taller than almost everyone and painfully white. My wife, with her dark hair and eyes, has an easier time fitting in. We arrive at the school a bit late, and perhaps a bit too casual in jeans and flip-flops, but then, we are Americans. At the school we pretend to be busy and we try to help where we can, but mostly we just play the part of visiting celebrities. The children run up to us, hold our hands, vie for our attention, and give us gifts. We in turn, show our love for them the best we know how, while trying to avoid creating too much of a distraction from the everyday routine of learning. We enjoy helping out in the English classes. I begin to think that this could be my meaningful service; I teach English back home in the States and I could probably help the English teacher with some curriculum preparation. I spend a few days making notes about what to tell her. Then Teresa hits gold. She has wanted to get into photography for quite some time and decides to do some portraits of some of the children. We talk to Berly, the director and decide that I’ll do some interviews with some of the needier kids, and Teresa can take the pictures. Maybe somehow, recording their stories we can do something for them one day, or at least raise awareness of folks back home…Besides, it should be interesting work to get to know a few of the kids.

When in despair, I hung my head
There is no peace on earth I said.

I’ve been sobbing like a child for twenty minutes. I cannot control myself. I’ve pretended to be too strong for too long and now that I’m finally alone I can let go. It’s 10:30pm and we’re back in our little bedroom and outside its raining. We’ve been collecting stories for two days and we’re not even half-way done interviewing the children that the staff of the little school has designated as “in need.” In these days I’ve listened to children who have felt the weight of the world in a way that no one ever should. The process has been simple enough. The child comes into the room with me and the director of the school. The director, Berly, smiles and holds their hand and says in the most loving tone, “We’re going to tell teacher Chris a little bit about your story.” It’s never long after that before the child is in tears, and more often than not Berly and I are crying too. I never quite know what to say or do; should I say, ‘I’m sorry you saw your father murdered’? or ‘I’m sorry your mother is dying of cancer.’ I want to hold them and tell them we are going to fix everything but I feel so helpless. One little girl cries when she says she has never owned a doll. I want so badly to cross the street and buy her one right now, but I know that there are 200 other children sitting outside the door who need help just as badly. And so I give her an awkward hug and try to express my love, while biting my tongue to avoid making promises that may or may not be in my power to keep. This and a hundred other faces haunt my dreams each night as we are in Guatemala.


For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I have traveled to Latin America before. I spent several months in Paraguay during college, and I have been to Argentina, Brazil and Mexico. I was, however, completely unprepared for what we saw in Guatemala in terms of violence. It is a country, so recently emerging from the fog of war, with the guerrillas, the paramilitaries and the government having signed peace accords in 1996. A new specter, however, is haunting this troubled country—gang violence. The gangs of Los Angeles have spilled into Central America and the 18th street gang is by far the most visible where we are living. Everyday we see it in the paper: whole families murdered, children kidnapped, fathers gunned down, and mothers victimized. Everyone we speak with knows someone who’s been murdered and it’s hard to find a person who hasn’t been assaulted personally at some point in their life. The 18th Zone, where we are living, is especially troubled by gang violence. The children we come to love fall victim to this terror repeatedly.


Then pealed the bells more loud and deep,
God is not dead nor doth he sleep,

Jose Alfredo is nine years old, but his body isn’t much bigger than that of a four year old. His little spine is crooked and hunched over, his feet are twisted the wrong direction and his brain is not a normal size. He wears diapers and has to use a walker to move. His parents have told us in tears that the doctors have told them not to waste their money (that they don’t have) on a surgery when Jose won’t live very long at any rate. I think of all of this as I watch little Jose. He looks up at me with big eyes and a wide grin. In the month that I’ve known him I’ve never seen him unhappy or angry. He greets me with excitement each time I see him and brings life to everyone around him. One day, when I die, I hope to be half the person that he is in God’s eyes. (Jose, above, has since passed away--2008).


The wrong shall fail, The right prevail,
With peace on Earth, good will to men

Our plane takes off in the morning and we watch through the oval window as that foreign city tucked into the green mountains grows smaller and smaller. I think again of the faces of the children we met. They are too many to recall by name, but each one is etched in my mind.

It’s hard at first to feel comfortable back home. I cannot sleep without wondering how many of the children have eaten that day. I cannot watch a movie without feeling guilty for enjoying the pleasures of safe surroundings and simple conveniences. I wake up thinking about Jose Alfredo, Elias, Gerardo, Katy, Susana and so many others. As time eases some of the most painful emotions I am able to take a step back and think about the situation in broader terms. I am amazed at the attitude of the children. Despite their circumstances, their attitude would be envied by a king. I hope that one day I can make some difference in their life. They have touched mine forever.