She and her husband work a farm in the Guatemalan country. When I arrived a stranger in her home she approached with arms open wide, and a smile in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezed, and warmly said "God bless you." Then she greeted my friends in the same manner. It was a simple, but profound gesture. I hope I can learn to greet others like that.
Lake Atitlan
With coworker Angel. We were both Irish for the day.
With Potter's House coworker Estevan.
Woman from Xela, who had recently lost her son in a firefighting accident.
Potter's House student Brezly, who frequently stops by the office to steal a chocolate.
Children always need to see how the shot turned out. :)
Youths from Manuel Colom Argueta, where I filmed my last campaign.
Inside the Guatemala City garbage dump.
Inside the Guatemala City garbage dump.
Vehicle collection inside the Guatemala City garbage dump.
Guatemala City dump.
Guatemala City police.
Kite festival in Sacatepequez.
Jonathan in the dump.
Mayan boy playing on the ruins.
Mayan boy from Peten, with a grasshopper.
Crowd and judges at the Potter's House talent show.
Playing soccer at Manuel Colom Argueta, where I filmed my last campaign.
Guatemala City
Hanging out with Potter's House staff.
At the top of volcano Pacaya.
This sums up our relationship.
Catholic processions.
Jonathan at Pacaya Volcano.
Jonathan at work.
Jonathan with his sponsors.
Kite festival in Sacatepequez.
As she stood at the edge of the Chimaltenango garbage dump, a strong gust blew her yagual, which she was using to carry a metal bucket on her head, down into the depths of the dump. But when we spoke, her voice vibrated with contentment. She no longer had to carry the bucket back home.
With her mother.
Chimaltenango garbage dump.
Group from Manuel Colom Argueta, where I filmed my last video.
"Take my photo, take my photo, take my photo!"
“How long have you lived here?” I asked. “My whole life.” He responded softly. We stared at the vibrant rolling mountains and enjoyed the silence, feeling no pressure to speak. He let me take his photo as peacefully as he seemed to let anything happen. After I did, he took a seat and listened as the birds sang amidst the calm.
Naked, filthy children are prevalent not because of a lack of clothes but because a lack of care by parents.
At a home for the elderly.
While filming an interview, I felt a light tap on my leg. Looking down, I saw Nohemí (Naomi), the 4-year-old daughter of the interviewee, with a camera in her hands and a look that said, “I have work to do.” So I set her on my lap and she, despite her disabled wrist, stretched her little finger to the shutter release. She added camera noises for effect.
“How did you learn Spanish?” my friend asked her. “They opened a school nearby last year,” she said. Her grandmother, who spoke a Mayan dialect, stood stoically next to her. When we later walked by the school I felt chills upon regarding its walls, painted with butterflies and kites. For the first time, children in that area would receive an education.
Mayan girl with her grandmother
Mayan boy from Xela, with his mother.
Trying on a traditional Mayan outfit. I look like a bearded woman in a skirt.
"You give someone unconditional love and they blossom."
-Sharon Dennehy
The view from the roof gave us something to stare at, so we didn't have to make eye contact. Our eyes picked from a feast of interesting things...the Pacaya volcano, the busy city it overlooked. Over the roof's edge, recyclers stacked worn burlap sacks of trash onto a roofless box truck until it brimmed. A small girl climbed to the top to tie down the sacks to keep them from falling.
I glanced over to Jonathan. "Why didn't you go to college?" I asked.
"It scared me," he replied. He looked off towards his community just a block away. The two of us had been filming there all month.
"I wasn't ready to be away from home," he added.
I turned my head to see what he was looking at. People hauling buckets of cement and dumping them. Little by little the dirt roads in Jonathan's community were disappearing.
"Do you know who's bigger than all your fears?" I asked him, smiling slightly at the Sunday-school nature of my question.
Jonathan chuckled. "Jesus," he replied.
Jonathan
Jonathan's not an eye contact kind of guy. He's not much of a conversationalist either. "Does he talk?" is one of the most common questions I get about him. He talks to me, of course, but we've had a lot of time to break the ice. Girls stop by the office to visit him. As they chat away, he stares at his computer screen offering short answers.
Smooth Moves: Jonathan performing at the Potter's House talent show.
He reminds me of Humphrey Bogart, at least in his stature (Bogart was 5 foot 7.5 inches) and in the eminent way he carries himself in spite of it. Like Bogart's characters, Jonathan can be mysterious at times, but always turns out to have a good heart.
A Loud Introduction
Jonathan first introduced himself to me 15 months ago during a soccer game. I was at Potter's House filming a video with his friend Kelvin. We never actually exchanged words nor did we approach each other (we're both too shy for that), but his red shirt was loud enough of an introduction that I wouldn't easily forget him.
Kelvin on the left, Pedro in the blue, Jonathan in the red.
19 months later, Jonathan graduated from high school. A few weeks before I watched him toss his graduation cap in the air, I had scheduled some meetings to discuss extending him an offer to work with me through Potter's House's apprenticeship program. Potter's House was supportive of the idea but had some concerns.
Jonathan on the right, accompanied by one of his sponsors, Dale, and a classmate.
Although he was well behaved, Jonathan was not considered a good student. "Is he frequently distracted?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Does he struggle with class participation?"
"Yes."
"Does he spend class time drawing in his notebooks"
"Yes."
"Sounds like a good fit to me."
Inviting Jonathan to work with me was certainly not a sure thing. But amongst his peers, Jonathan stood out as the most creatively motivated mind in the bunch.
Over the previous months, I'd observed how he'd stare out the doorway of his classroom, how drawings covered the margins of his notebooks, and how he was constantly tinkering with his wardrobe. Despite living in a tin community with dirt roads, he regularly managed to compose a striking outfit with what he had available to him. If he could compose an outfit, could he compose a photo? A video? A design?
There was something about his dress, his demeanor, and his drawings that made me yearn to place a camera into his hands. Before long I would get my chance.
Jonathan acting in a play about the importance of the Father's role at home. (His own father rarely had a presence at home)
Children's Day
October 1st is Children's Day in Guatemala. Potter's House needed a photographer to cover the festivities they had planned for their students, so I asked Jonathan if he would do it.
Jonathan, taking photos during Children's Day
With camera in hands, he stood timidly on the sidelines, a contradiction to the eye-grabbing hoody he was wearing. Looking up from my camera I met his eye and nodded towards the children. He raised his camera to take a few shots but his feet remained moored into the periphery pavement.
Pinned to the wall.
I walked over to him and stuck a hand on his shoulder. "Try getting closer, you might find a new interesting shot." He looked at me, pursing to speak but no words came out. "I'll do it at the same time. C'mon." I got close and began taking shots with my own camera. After a few seconds I could hear the shutter of his camera next to me.
Disappointment
At the end of the day we headed back to the office to review his shots. My eyes filtered through each photo, scanning impatiently, looking for a shot that would stop them in their tracks. Finally, they stopped...I had reached the end of the list.
I went back and scanned them again to choose the most decent ones and I complimented him on them and explained why I liked them. But inside I was disappointed. Where was the talent I so greatly had hoped for?
Inside the dump, taking photos.
Working
Every morning at 8 Jonathan Morales slides into the office we share, slaps me five, sits down at his computer, slides his headphones on, and begins editing.
At his new editing computer, purchased with help from his sponsor.
He drums on his desk when he's restless and occasionally coughs, less so since the dirt roads in his community were paved over.
We watch videos together and break down how they were constructed. I can't help but smile when I observe his wide-eyed amazement. Video truly fascinates him. "Your a videographer," I tell him, enjoying the satisfaction that brightens his face as soon as the thought sinks in.
Jonathan and his hippie friend decorated the office as a reward for completed a tough project.
As we walk in the local communities towards a filming location, we make a point of learning something new about each other . Once we're filming, communication mostly occurs with eye contact and gestures.
Filming in Jonathan's community. The "road" we were filming on had been installed only a month before.
On Tuesdays we sit on the roof and eat lunch together, staring at the city line with volcanoes in the background. We talk about life and go through a discipleship curriculum.
Since he started his internship January 8th, Jonathan's skills have grown at a healthy pace. And his growth has reminded me that the most talented workers are simply the ones who show up every day ready to work hard.
Short video Jonathan made in a day.
The Sunday School Question
We stared out towards the volcano next to empty lunch containers, enjoying the last moments of our weekly lunch.
"What does your mother think of this apprenticeship you're doing?" I asked.
Jonathan looked at the ground with a smile. "Remember when we were filming interviews in the community? She saw us there."
He looked up into my eyes. "She didn't want to interrupt, but she told me she saw us and started crying." The crease of a smile lined his face as he listened to his own words. My expression matched his.
Then, in an instant, doubt raged in. Could I live up to her tears? If I had a nickel for every time I doubted myself while working with Jonathan...
And then out came out a chuckle as a competing thought fought back.
Who can overcome my weaknesses in training Jonathan?
"I find God in the suffering eyes reflected in mine. If this is how you are revealed to me, this is how I will forever seek you."
-Kayla Jean Mueller, 26, about serving refugees in Syria. Died while captive under ISIL.
On a fairly ordinary day at Potter's House headquarters, I sat working at my desk when I sensed someone standing outside my office window. Looking up, I saw a young boy of about five peering in, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the bowl of chocolates sitting on my desk.
The office window, as seen from my desk.
Before I could lift my hand to wave, the closed office door swung open and, with a toothy grin, he got right to the point: “Will you give me a chocolate?”
“You’ll have to work for it,” I told him.
He wasn’t expecting a response like that. My eyes shifted to the crayons in his hand.
“Do you like to color?” I asked him
“Yes.”
“Who are you with?”
“Andrea.”
“Ok then, if you color something special for Andrea I will give you a chocolate.” He quickly drew a heart and ran off to Andrea's desk.
Andi and the bowl of chocolates
He came back to eat his wage. With a mouthful of chocolate, he said “I want another.”
“You’re going to have to work for it.”
“Ok"
And so our working arrangement continued like this for two more chocolates.
Andi's hands and face were dirty and a stream of mucous flowed from his nose. Each time he walked into the office the smell of feces and urine followed him. But I was bothered more by what he said.
"Will you give me a chocolate?" That was how Andi started the conversation. Too many times "Will you give me..." have been the first words dump community residents young and old have spoken to me.
Pedro
A few weeks before meeting Andi, I found myself overheating inside a cramped walk-in closet filled with 9-10 large black trash bags worth of stale clothes. The clothes, donated from the US, carried a mothball thrift-shop scent. But they were my only tool to suck up sound and remove the echo from the room.
Throughout the day, several students came to the closet to film their part in my most current project. As the day of filming winded down, a knock sounded through the door. Pedro let himself in with a smile that would impress the Artful Dodger. "I'm really nervous," he insisted, and sat down lazily in the plastic chair prepared for him, as if it reclined. He looked like an anxious beach bum.
Pedro
Pedro needed only a few minutes to record his lines, delivering them with ease despite the quizzical look I was giving him. He was, paradoxically, relaxed and nervous at the same time. I could not figure out what made him so interesting at first, until I noticed the quiver in his eyes.
As soon as I looked into them, they punched me in the gut. They were Robin Williams eyes...melancholy, pained, but kind. The kind that make you feel as if you've received a gift, because it's obvious how much effort it took to make them smile.
Pedro stood to say goodbye and as he left I felt as if he had given far more than I'd asked for.
(click play to see Pedro in this volunteer recruitment video for Potter's House)
An Unexpected Assistant
A few days after the video shoot, I found myself editing the footage quietly in my office. A loud thud nearly jolted me out of my chair, the sound of a shoe reaching the door before a hand.
Stumbling in was Pedro. With a big smile he slapped me five and asked me how I was doing. "Bien," I said. "Y tu?"
"Bien," he replied, as he peered over my equipment. He patted the fuzzy microphone atop the camera. "Will you teach me how to make videos?" he asked. My insides groaned. Yet another person asking me for something.
I gave Pedro independent photo/video projects to get him out of my hair. Perhaps having to work for me instead of receiving lessons from me would discourage him from returning. But instead, Pedro began to stop by more often. One morning I walked in to find he had set up his things on the spare desk in my office. Somehow, I had inadvertently picked up an assistant.
Pedro filming.
In the mornings, before Pedro arrived to volunteer, I contemplated how to tell him I didn't need his help anymore. Before long he'd clamor in, excited to work, and with eyes quivering with the same pained smile as always.
Something spoke through those eyes...Jesus. The same Jesus who allows me, flaws and all, to participate in His work. Peering through those eyes was a boy who bucked the trend, who came into my office desiring to contribute, not to receive. But now that a willing helper stood in front of me, the idea of "empowering" him seemed much less romantic. In my mind, Pedro was still a burden, one made heavier by the conviction I felt through his gaze.
As each day ended, Pedro lingered in the office and said goodbye several times without leaving. As much as I hoped he would go, it quickly became clear that something unpleasant awaited him outside the office.
From Left: Kelvin, Pedro, and Christian, on police bikes. In November, the three stopped by most days in the morning, lunchtime, and in the early evening to joke around, steal chocolates, and borrow markers to write notes to their girlfriends.
Pedro's Motivation
One unassuming Monday morning, Pedro walked in the office and looked at me with his sad smiling eyes. I expected him to ask me what projects I had for him.
"How was your weekend?" I asked.
"Oh, it wasn't very good."
"Why not?"
"It never is. I don't like being home."
"Why don't you like being home?"
Pedro walked to the other side of the desk and pulled up a chair next to me.
"I haven't enjoyed being home ever since my brother died."
Pedro's sad eyes smiled as he shared about the adventures he'd had with his brother, playing soccer, riding bikes, staying up late talking...they were inseparable. Then, on a tragic day two years ago his brother was killed in the crossfire of a gang shooting. Pedro's family was devastated.
Pedro looked to the ground. "I don't like being home because it reminds me of my brother." As he spoke, memories of being home after my mom's death, grieving and unemployed, rekindled in my mind.
"At home I have nothing to do," Pedro continued. "Sitting around makes me depressed, then I start to miss my brother. When I'm here working, I feel a lot better...and I know he'd be proud to see I'm helping a good cause."
My shoulders lightened. As Pedro's story settled in my mind, the burden of helping him finally faded away, and my productivity no longer seemed so important. True, my videos were an important part of Potter's Houses' ministry. But Pedro? He was the ministry.
Pedro came in to help for a full month until he was recruited to help with VBS at Potter's House. He returned to school when classes began again in January, but his classroom is right next to my office, making it easy to keep in touch.
Andi
Andi continued to come in an out of my office to play or attempt to steal chocolates. Each time I’d pick him up and carry him over to Andrea, exclaiming, "I've caught a big fish!" He wriggled, writhed, and giggled until I put him down and then he'd run right back to the chocolate bowl.
Andi, caught crawling under my desk to untie my shoes.
Finally, Andrea walked into my office to retrieve Andi. "What's he doing in the office?" I asked, annoyed.
Andrea explained the situation. Andi's mother had died from illness and his father was murdered by a gang. His nearly blind grandmother took charge of him but could barely keep track of him. That afternoon, Andrea was keeping an eye on restless Andi while his grandmother took part in a pediatric nutrition class at Potter's House.
Andi's Grandmother
Andi's story changed my feelings towards him so quickly that I strangely let out a chuckle. God had just used stories to soften the heart of a storyteller. Unwittingly, I had received a dose of my own medicine.
Andi kicked at the legs of my desk while he waited for Andrea to finish the story. My brow no longer furrowed when I looked at him.
What can I do?
A few weeks after our first encounter, Andi appeared again in my office window, with a toothy grin. Like always, he showed himself into the office.
"What can I do for a chocolate?" he asked. A rush of joy filled my heart. Eagerly, I gave him a job to do.
With haste Andi ran over to my next door neighbor Marvin's office and made faces in the window. Sensing he'd enjoy a partner in crime, I got up and joined him. When we tired of pestering Marvin (who made faces back), we each helped ourselves to a chocolate.
The students stared back at their teacher with the enthusiasm of a tranquilized sloth.
“Can anyone in the class tell me what they think about that?" the teacher asked.
Silence. I suddenly became acutely aware of the carefree children playing just outside the classroom.
In the students' defense, it was 3PM, the part of the school day when time flows with a most viscous of qualities. After an awkward silence, Kelvin, seated quietly next to me, raised his hand and broke through the malaise with an answer not befitting of his “cool kid” self, but that would have made any teacher’s pet jealous. Without removing my eye from the camera I held out my fist in his direction. Soon after his his knuckles met mine. A quick glance in his direction confirmed we both wore the same subtle smile upon our faces.
A baby photo of Kelvin. Look at those pudgy cheeks!
The simple fist bump carried in it the satisfying familiarity that can only come from connecting with a good friend. Over a year has passed since I first spent a few weeks filming with Kelvin and he is still just as cool as when I first met him (click here for last year's blog about Kelvin) . He moves like a Latino James Dean. Although our friendship remained active, the footage from our time together sat idle as I worked on other projects.
Working on one of the "other projects." Filming with my church, who came to Guatemala for a week!
Returning to the footage upon returning to Potter’s House this year was like returning to the scene of a crime. It was the first project I’d filmed in Guatemala and my lack of experience was apparent. Everything was too shaky, too unfocused, too off balanced, too plain old awful. And the result is something I am more satisfied with than anything I’ve done before. Here it is, my latest video:
One Year Later
It’s been not only a year since I filmed with Kelvin, but also one year since I returned home from my second short-term stint in Guatemala (This year is my third and longest stint). Here's a report on how many times the videos have been seen:
4 Other Videos: Combined for 2,078 views on YouTube.
Bonus: Kelvin’s Story: Already over 400 views between YouTube and presentations.
Volunteers watching Clay (Kelvin's Story)
It's been reassuring to see the videos used in presentations. Unlike the online audience, those receiving presentations to are a captive and engaged audience, who often discuss the videos in groups afterwards.
Thank your for supporting me and encouraging me last year as I made these videos!
Where Would They Be?
The Bible class came to a close and Kelvin volunteered to say the prayer. As he began to speak, I couldn't resist looking up to observe the classroom.
I noticed Manuel, who always greets me with a smile. When he arrived at Potter’s House he was so depressed and neglected that he told his counselors he had no worth and wanted to commit suicide. Now he openly declares his worth in the Lord.
Manuel. This shot is a still from my next video.
Sitting nearby was Jaqueline, who’d first arrived with such poor self image that she would cover her face with her hair and wear black to symbolize her pain. She now walks with confidence and charity.
Jaqueline (Center, in front of the children) on during a prayer walk in a shanty community.
Finally I looked over to Kelvin. If he hadn’t made it to Potter’s House, where would he be? The dump community has little to offer. No libraries, no athletic facilities or other outlets. Would the gangs have recruited him or targeted him? Would his anger and shame have consumed him? Would he be working in the dump with his dad? Would he have found discipleship? “Thank you Lord, that they’re here,” I prayed internally.
Kelvin closing in prayer.
Kelvin finished his prayer and class let out to free time. As soon as he opened his eyes, he resumed to being his suave self, smiling cooly as several bright eyed girls got up to talk to him. I chuckled to myself and ducked out to edit the footage I'd just taken.
Kelvin handing out food during the weekly "Treasure's Club" at Potter's House
Kelvin (stage right) helping to lead songs during the weekly "Treasure's Club" at Potter's House
Acting in a skit, Kelvin tries to steal his neighbor's hamburger. We've all been there.
"Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God."
-2 Corinthians 3:5
I stood awkwardly in a room with five other Potter's House staff members, unsure of what to do with myself. Silvia, with whom I'd worked with almost exclusively my first two weeks in Guatemala, leaned over a collection of cup cakes and placed a candle in each one. The five of us waited patiently for a few minutes when finally a young pair of eyes peered shyly into the doorway of the room before entering. At once we all shouted "Feliz Cumpleaños!!" and gave a great cheer. Eight-year-old Andrea, Silvia's sponsor child through Potter's House, walked into the room with a meek smile on her face--until she saw Silvia. She gave her a big hug and exclaimed, "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten it was my birthday!"
As I watched Andrea open her presents (matching umbrella, rain coat, and boots so Andrea can navigate the often rainy walk home in style), I couldn't help but focus on how tired Silvia was. She had just finished two weeks straight of overtime work helping me find and furnish an apartment, open a bank account, purchase a phone plan and internet, arrange for transportation to work, find a church, and navigate the red tape foreigner's face when moving to the country. She came to work early and left late. And despite her exhaustion, she mustered the effort to arrange for something every child deserves--to be celebrated on her birthday.
A Normal Day at the Office
Silvia's effort is the essence of what it's like to work at Potter's House. There's no such thing as a normal office job here. The children we serve occupy the same building for lunch and school. On any given day, there will be a vocational class for adults, a celebration service for the elderly, day camp for the kids, and so on.
Just next to my office there's a classroom of high school school students who have learned they can stop by my office any time to chat or discuss their communications-related projects. My presence has allowed them the first lessons about cameras they've ever had.
My office.
Starting with a Vacation
It didn't sit well with me when I, upon arriving in Guatemala, learned that the first item on my schedule was an all expenses paid staff retreat to Guatemala's fanciest resort. A donor had given a large gift with the special instructions that it be used to give the staff a break. So instead of working with the people of the dump, I climbed onto a tour bus headed for rural Guatemala.
During the course of the retreat my attitude shifted upon reflecting how hard staff members, like Silvia, worked. Providing spiritual and physical service to the people of the dump community is a most tiring labor of love. They were due for some spiritual and physical restoration themselves!
So, strangely, my first video from my time in Guatemala is not about the dump. It's a "thank you" video to the donors who made the retreat possible. I managed to capture a marriage proposal at the end, you might want to check it out. :)
Back to the Dump
Life has returned to normal at Potter's House and I'm now working on bigger, better videos. The focus of my work is again on the people of the dump community, where it's supposed to be. But for a short while, it felt right to break the rules and focus on the staff. It can be easily forgotten what significant rest and salary they give up in order to serve the poor.
Silvia returned to work too, as busy as ever. But one part of her routine will not feel like work to her. Every week, she leaves her office at lunchtime and walks down the stairs to visit Andrea, who receives a lunch and education through Potter's House. She won't be alone--A few other staff members will be walking down to visit their sponsor children too.
