Three years ago I lost my Joy, in more ways than one. My Oma, Joy, passed away from kidney cancer just days before I was set to leave for a trip that I had planned months prior. Her death was a profound loss. I’ve always believed that the bond we shared was so deep, it extended beyond the physical…
Despite the challenges threatening to change my plans…an expired passport, the weight of grief, and my own worsening health, I knew this journey was necessary. I needed space to process, to mourn, and to find healing. So, I did what I do best… I ran away to seek solitude, perspective and purpose. Guatemala had become a second home to me years prior, a place that opened my heart to ceremonies, trust and service. It was the only place I could imagine beginning this next chapter of grieving my loss
I returned to what I consider another home, Guatemala. I spent the first days of my trip using the city of Antigua as an excuse to curl up in the comforters and be an unknown character, my mask and glasses hiding my true emotions. The vibrant city that once ignited a sense of wonder in me now became a refuge where I could hide. I found myself struggling to communicate in a language I knew very little, while desperately trying to keep a smile on my face. Learning how to ask for help became my daily challenge.
I navigated my way over to Lake Atitlan with the intention of staying with a family and learning Spanish in San Pedro La Laguna . I spent 5 hours a day with a teacher in an outdoor classroom overlooking Lake Atitlan. I was put with a family that was very sweet and understanding. Welcoming me into their home and routines. Accompanying them to soccer games, church and farmers market runs. They spoke a Mayan dialect at times. When I would notice their Spanish slowly transition to mayan I knew I could shut my ears off for a little while. My brain feeling fried by the end of each night from all the spanish.
My host mom took me on her daily outing to the local farmer market. Showing me how they hand churn maze to use the flour for their fresh tortillas. I was nourished each day with homemade meals of soup, tamales and tortillas. It was just the comfort that I needed.
Through my daily Spanish classes, I met a group of people from around the world that were also staying with local families. I made friends with people that reminded me laughter is the easiest way to feel free. Three guys from Saudi Arabia. One student I became friends with, Allen, had left his home during covid to travel. Allens fluency in Spanish and his ability to blend in made him the go-to guy for navigating the local scene, while his friends, with their loud and boisterous bargaining tactics, often stood out in amusing ways.
Together, these three created a dynamic trio. Abdul and Omar’s loud and funny nature, always ready to haggle, contrasted sharply with the more reserved and laid-back demeanor of the Guatemalan men. Watching them navigate their surroundings was both entertaining and endearing, a testament to the beautiful diversity of cultures and personalities. I’d know that despite my complexion, with these boys I’d get better discounts and feel safe traveling back to Antigua for the second part of the trip, volunteering with the non profit, Hug It Forward.
Hug It Forward is an inspiring non-profit dedicated to empowering underprivileged communities in Guatemala through environmental education and sustainable development. Their mission revolves around turning plastic waste into opportunity by engaging local communities and international volunteers in building eco-friendly bottle schools. The structures of the schools are made using discarded plastic bottles filled with trash (eco bricks), repurposed as insulation within the walls.
The locals show their commitment to cleaning up their environment, by helping to collect trash in their communities, this fosters both education about the modern waste problems and ecological responsibility.
Hug It Forward envisions a world, “in which all children have the opportunity to get an education and create a better life for themselves, their families and where people do not mindlessly throw things away.”
Each day, as we worked side by side with the local community, I felt a shift within me. There was a beauty in the rhythm of our work: the laughter of children eager to help build their school, the determination of volunteers of all ages working to get our project done in time despite rain and exhaustion.
The simple yet powerful act of creating walls for a future school reminded me how growth isn’t about erasing your pain or the past but repurposing that energy into resilience to create something new and impactful.
The resilience I witnessed through Hug It Forward extended far beyond the bottle schools we built. It lived in the families who, despite hardship, remained determined to create a better future for themselves and their families. Resilience lived in the communities that took discarded waste and turned it into the foundation of education. It was reflected in the immigration stories we heard- stories of sacrifice, uncertainty, and hope.
These conversations deepened my understanding of why access to education is so vital. For many, it represents the opportunity to stay, to build, and to thrive in their own communities rather than being forced to run and seek opportunities elsewhere.
Returning from the trip, I found myself hospitalized with a kidney infection. It felt like, in some inexplicable way, my body was mourning alongside me, taking on some of my grandmother’s pain as my own. In the hospital, I couldn’t help relate to how my Oma must have felt, having other people make decisions for her, about her health. As I took the next few weeks to prioritize my healing, I remembered the need to be resilient, to avoid running and to stand up against systems that want to keep us oppressed.
Guatemala taught me that true healing comes from laughter, purpose and resilience.
