La Limondada is the largest slum in Central America, with over 60,000 people crowded into a deep ravine which runs in front of the Olympic Stadium. I heard about this barrio of La Limonada about a year ago when I first saw the documentary Reparando. And through the film met Tita, who has spent the last 15 years ministering to the people who live in what some call “this God-forsaken place.”
Today I got to meet Tita in person, and saw just how present God is in this most unlikely place. A mutual friend of one of the women living in Mari’s house, Lynn, had arranged the meeting. It was truly a holy time walking the steets of this slum with Tita. Many had cautioned us not to go into the area—it is considered the most dangerous in Guatemala. Tita was our “safe passage,” her reputation and the love the people of this neighborhood have for her our protection (not to mention the Holy Spirit who we could feel taking each step with us).
Our first stop was at one of the two schools Tita runs in La Limonada. Here the children are loved, fed healthy meals, and provided with scholarships to attend formal school in Guatemala City. As we walked through the building, it was beautiful to see the way both children and staff greeted Tita with love and admiration. It was even more impressive to see the quality of the program being offered these children. Sponsors are needed to continue this program. If you would be interested in supporting one or more of the children in Tita’s program, please email me and I’ll put you in touch with her.
I had prayed before coming that God would show me one thing I could do to help Tita with her ministry. I found my niche as we descended the steep, narrow stairway (all the stairs in the building are—it’s built on the side of a ravine) to what Tita calls the “I Need a Break” room. The horrors these children and teachers face on a daily basis can sometimes overwhelm them and they need a safe place to process it all. That’s what this room will be used for when finished. . .a place to safely vent the emotions that run so high when you live in a ghetto where gangs, and drugs and murder are common place. So, I am taking this on as my project—to “outfit” this room with a variety of ways to express feelings: physically, verbally, artistically. Again, if you would like to help with this project, please email me for details.
Leaving the school, we walked down into a ravine through narrow alleys nestled among slum shacks cobbled together by rusting corrugated tin, rotten wood and concrete. Once again everyone seemed to know Tita, and it seemed we were stopped every few feet as one person or another needed to talk with her about something.
Our first stop was at the home of an elderly couple. There couple of rooms are at the rear of a large building housing I don’t know how many families. The 84 year old lady of the house was out shopping, but her blind husband welcomed us as if we were old friends. She returned shortly and had a wonderful visit and time of prayer, as she told us of her life and challenges living here.
Along the way we stopped to visit with Herman, an elderly man who sits each day in the door of the hovel he calls home. Talking and praying with and for this dear man, as he reached out and took my hand with such tenderness, was the highpoint of this day for me.
After visiting the second school run by Tita, we were asked to visit Irma, woman with chorea, a disease in which causes continuous involuntary muscle movements. We were tearfully greeted at the gate by 45 year old woman who looked to be 70, and was literally skin and bones, not weighing more than 60 lbs. As we visited with her, Tita looked up at me, asking what I could do to help her. My heart sank to my knees at the overwhelming hopelessness of this dear woman’s situation. What could I do? I don’t have the slightest idea. But I said I would do some searching and talk to the social workers at Hermano Pedro for ideas. I don’t hold much hope that they will take her in, since she can walk, but it is a place to start. And we have to do something before this lady starves to death.
As we walked away from Irma’s home after praying with her, I was convicted that the least I could do was provide her with one can of Ensure a week. After all, I spend at least that much feeding my dogs each week. I would ask those of you reading this to prayerfully consider if God might be inviting you to donate the amount equal to what you spend on your pets in one month to help feed this starving woman. There is a responsible neighbor we have found who will look in on her and made sure she has food if we can provide it until we find a facility in which she can live.
It was time for us to return to the Burger King where we were to meet our driver and return to the comfort and relative safety of Antigua. While Tita returned to the school for her car keys, she insisted that we go into one of the homes where we would be safe until she returned. Again, we were welcomed into the meager house in which five people lived. They “entertained” us with stories of their family until Tita returned for us, and invited us to visit again.
I thought that I had become accustomed to seeing poverty, traveling to the remote villages we do. I was so wrong. This concentration of people subsisting one on top of another was beyond anything I’d ever imagined. More overwhelming that any of the “projects” I had seen growing up in Chicago. It was evenmore overwhelming when I looked up the ravine and saw the steel and glass high rises of the wealthy no more than five blocks away—totally oblivious to those starving so near them.
The darkness of this ghetto was palpable. The light Tita brings into this darkness was just as apparent. Please pray for this dear sister as she returns here each day, to minister to her “congregation.” While she is the first to say, “I’m no more than a human being who is walking with Jesus,” she is a remarkable person from whom the Spirit of God radiates in each moment.
She shared with me privately, though, some of her struggles as she works here each day. At times her life is threatened by one or more of the gangs who call La Limonada their territory. She is tired each night as she returns home to raise her own eleven year old son, Moses. As my friend Lynn said, reflecting on the experience, “We get to go home.” For Tita, and 60,000 other Guatemalans, this is home. . .
Your story is inspiring, do you know how to get in contact with Tita? I am looking to live in Guatemala near the La Limonada area as well
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