When we turned down the narrow dirt road to Gloria’s home, we were met with a radiant smile that shone brighter than the midday sun. Her joy at seeing us was unmistakable, even though the world around her told a story of profound hardship.
Gloria lives in conditions that would be unimaginable in Canada. Her “house” is a patchwork of plastic sheeting, rough wooden boards, scattered bricks, and a dirt floor. It’s not just her home—it’s a shelter for 11 people: her six children, a frail elderly mother in a wheelchair, and other family members. Her husband, gravely ill, lies in a hospital bed battling kidney failure.
This is poverty in its most raw and relentless form. Yet Gloria greeted us not with despair, but with gratitude and pride.
Thanks to Kenoli’s partner, Association Mangle, Gloria now has something that brings her and her family a renewed sense of dignity: a latrine. Simple, yet powerful—it’s a step forward, a symbol of hope, and a small anchor of safety and sanitation in a life of constant uncertainty.
Before we left, Gloria pressed gifts into our hands—fresh fish her sons had caught that morning and mangoes from a nearby tree. We were humbled. We knew how little she had. And yet, she gave.
As one of my colleagues, Magda, quietly said, “Poor people give what they have. Rich people give what they don’t want.”
Despite the UN ranking El Salvador in the “medium” range on the Human Development Index, Gloria’s reality tells a much harsher truth. She and families like hers represent the edges of that scale—the forgotten margins where survival takes everything you’ve got.
And yet, what we witnessed was not defeat. It was resilience. It was empowerment. Gloria is not waiting for rescue; she is doing everything she can, with everything she has, to create a better life for her family.
Her strength reminds us why we do this work. And why, with the right tools and support, transformation is not just possible—it’s already happening.