He was the head of the school where we were volunteering. He had made lots of progress to better education in Guatemala. He was just taking us on a tour, of the city. You know, that’s what people do. One of our stop was the major cemetery. He showed us around, through the big “temples” for ex-presidents and the few families with major money. Then you get to the back. Back there none of the graves are taller than a foot or two. This is for the rest of the population, if you’re lucky. We walk among them for a while and he starts to talk. About two sons before their oldest daughter. Dead. They buried the first but the government dug him up. They needed that slot for another body and the family didn’t have money to make a concrete grave. The body is gone. When the second son dies they can get the concrete. They make a grave for both of them. But then one day a tree falls over it. Cracking it. The Government leaves it that way. They build again. He takes us to see the grave.

And they just build again. All their lives. Build again to help the world. I don't think I could do it.