Accompanying in Contexts of Exclusion

The first community was established in El Amparo, a neighborhood in Zone 7 of Guatemala City, considered one of the poorest and most violent areas in the country. There, they joined the youth ministry and a small parish library. From the beginning, they were warned about the risks posed by local gangs. However, their work focused on building relationships with young people, often through short educational sessions that, despite their limited duration, represented significant achievements in contexts of extreme vulnerability.

One of the groups with whom they developed meaningful relationships was composed of gay and lesbian youth, who affectionately called themselves “la mara de las chicas” (the girls’ crew). Several had been victims of sexual violence. The sisters, far from taking an assistentialist or exclusionary stance, provided close emotional support and created safe, judgment-free spaces built on trust.

Seven months after settling in El Amparo, at the request of Father Edgar Valladares, parish priest of Cristo Rey, they decided to move to Concepción Las Lomas, a community in Zone 16 of Guatemala City. With the support of local community leaders, they began learning about the population and its needs. Gradually, they started offering support and small interventions, as the area had a strong presence of organized crime. Many families were fractured, and children were being recruited by gangs as young as nine, perpetuating a cycle of violence that was difficult to escape.

Throughout their work, the Carmelite Missionary Sisters of Teaching have developed an educational accompaniment model that goes beyond the classroom, engaging with the complex realities of each territory and generating processes aimed at creating opportunities where previously there had only been stigma and risk.

In 1999, as a result of meetings and analysis with the community and its leaders, a small community hall was used to offer protection for the many unschooled children who remained on the streets. This educational intervention became a cornerstone for the development of the community. After two years of teaching in the community hall with 47 children, the need for expansion became clear. Thanks to the support of the rector of Rafael Landívar University (URL), they were granted land to build a school for kindergarten through first grade. In collaboration with URL students and the Rotary Club, they managed to build their first classroom in 2001.

In the Dominican Republic, they had already developed a similar model under the name Futuro Vivo, but the goal was to adapt it to the Guatemalan context, which the sisters had come to understand deeply through their experience in El Amparo. They also sought to become institutionalized, and in 2001 began negotiations with the Ministry of Education (MINEDUC) to implement formal education in Concepción Las Lomas. They believed that education alone was not enough; access to nutrition and holistic health was also essential for retaining children in school. As a result, they also began offering medical consultations to their students.

Although they started with a very limited space—just a small kitchen and a few playground items—their work began to bear fruit. They received support from Spain to continue building a better future. This allowed them to acquire a larger property with a garden and a kitchen for all the students. The sisters are especially proud that their staff is made up of community members, as this not only supports the children but also provides employment opportunities within Futuro Vivo. In 2003, the expansion of Futuro Vivo began.

Despite financial constraints and the many challenges they’ve faced over the years, the sisters have built relationships with the diplomatic corps, international aid organizations, and eventually began receiving government funding. Although they started with 220,000 quetzales in 2010, the amount has grown thanks to the continued efforts of the sisters and their supporters. Despite the bureaucratic challenges of working with state funds, Futuro Vivo stands as tangible proof that civil society can indeed collaborate with the state.

With a renewed educational model and the growth of Futuro Vivo in the city, the time came to begin a new journey—this time toward settings vastly different from urban contexts. The sisters ventured into Guatemala’s rural areas, where communities often survive below the poverty line. Upon arriving in Cobán, they encountered a reality that was difficult to process: people still living in conditions of extreme deprivation.

The Historical Reality of Cobán

Before delving into the educational work of Futuro Vivo in Cobán, it is essential to understand the historical context that has shaped this region. Since colonial times, Cobán has been marked by deep social, economic, and cultural inequalities that have contributed to its current condition as one of the most impoverished areas of Guatemala. The marginalization of its communities—especially Indigenous ones—is not new but rather the result of a structural legacy of exclusion and dispossession that continues to affect equitable access to essential services like education.

The Municipality of Cobán, located in Alta Verapaz, was founded by Friar Bartolomé de las Casas in 1538 under the patronage of Saint Dominic. The Dominicans founded Cobán, and it was precisely the Dominican Sisters who later invited the Carmelite Sisters to join the Futuro Vivo project in Cobán. The town of Cobán was won over by catechism and the message of peace, and in 1558, the King of Spain named it an "Imperial City." This project, supported by the Q’eqchi’ leader Aj Pop O’ Batz and approved by King Charles I, led to an unprecedented alliance between Indigenous peoples and the Spanish Crown. This historical framework reflects not only the complexity of the colonization of Verapaz but also the profound political, spiritual, and diplomatic dimensions that defined Cobán’s emergence as a project of intercultural encounter and territorial pacification (Guerrero J., 2013).

In the following centuries, Cobán developed as a religious and administrative center. In fact, by 1599, it served as the seat of the Diocese of Verapaz. The region remained relatively stable until the 19th century, when liberal reforms in 1825 led to the expropriation of Indigenous lands and their redistribution to German families such as the Diesseldorfs, Thomaes, and Sappers. These families transformed the local economy by introducing large-scale coffee cultivation—still one of the main crops in the region. However, coffee workers are severely underpaid, earning as little as $2.00 per day, which prevents them from improving their own and their families’ quality of life.

In the 20th century, Cobán’s reality changed drastically. Social inequalities deepened, severely affecting the local population, who would later become victims of torture and terror imposed by the state during the 36-year Internal Armed Conflict, which began in 1960 and ended in 1996 with the signing of the Peace Accords.

According to the Commission for Historical Clarification (CEH), 89 massacres were documented in the Verapaz region, beginning with the massacre in Panzós under the government of Kjell Eugenio Laugerud García. As shown in Figure 2, CEH reports indicate that 93% of the violence during the conflict was committed by the army, while 3% is attributed to the guerrilla forces.

The CEH’s documentation estimates that approximately 200,000 people were killed or disappeared during the conflict.

After the Panzós massacre, state forces continued attacking various communities in the region. In Cobán in particular, many killings occurred. Beginning in 1979, Military Zone 21 became home to a military detachment and a clandestine cemetery. After the Peace Accords, this site became the Regional Command for Peacekeeping Operations Training (CREOMPAZ), which operated until 2004. However, it wasn’t until 2012—with help from the Forensic Anthropology Foundation—that 85 mass graves were discovered there, containing the remains of at least 565 people, including children and adolescents who showed signs of torture. The CREOMPAZ case became a symbol in the pursuit of justice. In 2022, former military commissioner José Manuel Castañeda Aparicio was finally prosecuted for the forced disappearances.

The armed conflict left a devastating psychosocial and cultural impact—generating trauma, loss of cultural reference points, and a slow and painful social reconstruction. Almost simultaneously with the deepening of the civil war in the Verapaces, the Samac cooperative was founded in 1971. This cooperative originally included the communities of Sa’nimtaq’a and Samuk, which had long been under German control. Although the cooperative lost vitality during the conflict due to destruction and displacement, it has since tried to revive itself through community tourism and coffee tours as strategies for diversifying the local economy. Still, Cobán’s socioeconomic reality remains marked by poverty and lack of access to basic services, leading many children and adolescents to drop out of school.

It is in this context that organizations like Futuro Vivo intervene. The Carmelite Sisters were invited by the Dominican Sisters, who have historically had a presence in Cobán since colonial times. Futuro Vivo aims to break cycles of structural poverty through educational and social projects that address the needs of children and youth, contributing to social reconstruction and sustainable development in a region still scarred by colonial legacies, land dispossession, and the violence of the armed conflict.

Educational Work in Cobán

Seeking to expand their work in areas of greater need, the sisters began exploring options in 2016. Sister Uti, then directing the mission in Guatemala, proposed establishing themselves in Cobán. Initially, the plan was to offer secondary and university-level education in the area, especially since the region is plagued by machismo and girls are often not allowed to study. However, upon arriving in Samac in 2016, the sisters quickly realized that the context demanded much more from them.

Sister Uti, riding a small motorcycle, would travel with Carmela through the villages of Chicoj, Sanimtacá, Tzimajil, and Samac. Realizing that the level—not only of education but of life itself—was more precarious than in the city, they found children who undertook long journeys of up to two hours just to reach school. There were also times when teachers would either not show up or arrive outside of their scheduled hours. The long journey these children made in search of a decent education was often in vain.

After establishing contact with the leaders and elders of Samac, some approved the project that Futuro Vivo was proposing. However, due to the legacy of mistrust caused by the internal armed conflict and land expropriation, some members of the cooperative were hesitant to accept the project. Over time, however, a better relationship developed—so much so that the community lent them a property that had previously been used as a tourist center. This space was gradually adapted to include a kitchen, dining area, and classrooms where children could be taught.

During their visits to the villages, the sisters encountered widespread alcoholism, machismo, and extreme material deprivation—some families didn’t even own plates or beds. When they began teaching, they realized that it wasn’t enough to simply promote educational programs—they also needed to implement intercultural bilingual education. The majority of Samac’s population speaks Q’eqchi’, so educational programs had to be relevant and context-sensitive. As shown in Figure 4, 96% of Cobán’s population is Q’eqchi’ Maya, and the remaining 4% belongs to other Indigenous groups.

In parallel, the education program in Cobán maintains the same philosophy as Futuro Vivo in the capital. The classrooms in Cobán operate through group dynamics where students work under the motto “learning by doing.” Since its inception, Futuro Vivo has promoted the centrality of values and leadership among its students. Although many of them come from vulnerable backgrounds, they are able to see themselves as agents of change. This is reflected in the Student Assembly, where they select the “Best Person” based on principles and attitudes of responsibility, respect, hygiene, solidarity, and leadership—all of which are fostered in the classrooms of Futuro Vivo.

Cobán's approach is also community-based: families get involved in building the school, supporting the gardens, and even preparing lunch for their own children. Just as Futuro Vivo offers free, high-quality education in Cobán, parents allow a reciprocal relationship with the program and contribute to the project, fostering a sense of shared responsibility.

Challenges After the Pandemic

After the project began in Samac, everything was progressing well at both sites. However, once the pandemic hit, international cooperation stopped sending funds to the Sisters. The greatest challenge was that they couldn’t apply the same take-home workbook model used in the city. Due to the precarious state of education in Cobán and language barriers, parents found it extremely difficult to explain the guides to their children and support their learning. Still, this didn’t stop the dreams of the Carmelite Sisters—despite curfews, they found solutions and adapted to the situation.

At the start of the pandemic, the Sisters visited villages to explain the workbook guides step-by-step. Thanks to their efforts, they managed to establish an agreement for a staggered attendance protocol—something few schools were allowed. The public health crisis did not halt their work, and they began teaching in learning bubbles so children could attend school safely. In fact, it was the only school in all of Cobán that remained open for its students.

However, the challenges weren’t limited to education. The pandemic coincided with the devastating arrival of tropical storms Eta and Iota, which ravaged the community of Samac and even submerged the school under water. The fear of the virus became intertwined with the trauma of destruction and flooding. Many children still remember fleeing to the mountains to save their lives and those of their families. Today, when it rains, the anxiety of those days reemerges on their faces—the memory of the disaster remains vivid. As shown in Figure 5, Alta Verapaz was the most affected area.

Eta and Iota unleashed extraordinary amounts of rainfall in very short periods. In some parts of Alta Verapaz, between 150 and 200 millimeters of rain fell within just 24 hours. According to experts, these types of events occur only once every 10 or even 50 years. Yet in that one month, two such events occurred within weeks, leaving behind destruction and a renewed awareness of nature’s power (BBC, 2021). The rains didn’t just flood communities—they created a critical scenario: saturated soils, contaminated water sources, and heavily damaged health centers. Hospitals and clinics were affected both structurally and logistically, making it difficult to receive essential supplies. All of this happened amid the COVID-19 emergency, further straining an already fragile healthcare system. The spread of diseases like dengue and malaria, driven by a surge in disease vectors, was a direct consequence of this environmental and public health collapse (UNDP, 2021).

The Eta and Iota storms were among the worst to hit Alta Verapaz. The department was one of the hardest hit, not only due to the storms themselves but because nearly everything that could be lost was lost—particularly in communities that had suffered from accumulated poverty for decades. As shown in Figure 6, Cobán has a structural poverty rate of 73% and an extreme poverty rate of 63%, revealing how existing inequalities deepened the impact of the storms. Homes in these regions are built from mud or wood, and many were completely destroyed. In one nearby village, a massive landslide buried the community of Quejá in Alta Verapaz. Between 45 and 60 people were trapped beneath the mud—half of them children (BBC, 2020).

Despite these challenges, figures of hope emerged. In 2021, with the arrival of the new director of Futuro Vivo in Cobán, a key stage began for educational and socioemotional recovery after the destruction caused by the storms. Her leadership was vital not only for the students’ academic advancement but also for securing funding to ensure the continuity of the project and a brighter childhood for the students.

The methodologies born in this emergency context were incorporated into the project, maintaining the constructivist approach that defines the Sisters, while adapting it to local realities. At Futuro Vivo, every crisis becomes a seed of learning, and every child, a protagonist of their own future.

Educational Methodology and Intercultural Bilingual Education

The pedagogical approach of Futuro Vivo in Cobán remains true to its Carmelite roots, originating in the Dominican Republic: an education centered on the human person, inspired by Christian humanism, the constructivist model, and the principle of "learning by doing"—an education that is person-centered and humanizing. This philosophy is adapted to local contexts, especially in Q’eqchi’-speaking communities.

From the earliest levels, instruction is bilingual. In preschool (ages 4–5), teachers incorporate games, songs, and playful activities in both Q’eqchi’ and Spanish. If a child doesn’t understand something in Spanish, the teacher lovingly explains it in the child’s mother tongue, ensuring inclusion and comprehension. Through this gentle transition, students are prepared to read and write fluently in Spanish by the time they reach primary school—without abandoning their linguistic identity.

But the intercultural approach goes beyond language. Futuro Vivo also honors and integrates the richness of the Maya-Q’eqchi’ worldview. Local festivals, traditional dress, agricultural practices, and oral storytelling are woven into the curriculum. At the same time, harmful behaviors such as machismo or domestic violence are addressed sensitively, particularly in specialized workshops for mothers and fathers. The message is clear: not every custom is culture, and respect and equity can be deeply rooted in one’s own traditions.

The methodology aligns with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and is translated into practical projects. For example, in fourth grade, students plant school gardens and teach their families about sustainability. In fifth grade, they calculate market discounts or write stories for a collective book—blending literacy and numeracy with real-life experiences. Education becomes a living tool for transforming their world.

Since 2023, the project has strengthened its technological component with the opening of the Robotics and Computer Science Room, thanks to a donation from ETS America. There, under the guidance of Professor Daniel, students explore programming through Scratch, creating animations and solving problems with logic and creativity. Meanwhile, volunteer Silvia implements the Progrentis program, which strengthens skills in language, math, attention, and autonomy through personalized learning.

Art, sports, and music also hold a privileged place. Afternoons are filled with marimba and singing. The schoolyards—though sometimes impacted by water shortages—have been built through the efforts of parents who welded, swept, and cooked to make their children's school a reality. The English club and student-run ventures (like musical bands during Holy Week or ecological projects in 2025) reflect the goal of forming well-rounded students committed to their communities and environment.

The socioemotional dimension permeates the entire educational process. After the pandemic and hurricanes Eta and Iota, many children arrived with fear, trauma, and discouragement. Today, the school psychologist works with them and their families to heal these wounds. As one teacher said, “We had to find ways to brighten their hearts.” In every activity—from reading to group dynamics—the goal is for students to feel safe, understood, and capable of building a hopeful future.

Education at Futuro Vivo is not just about delivering content. It is a deep commitment to holistic care, cultural belonging, and community leadership. It is a model that proves it is possible to teach through love, commitment, and respect for one’s roots.

The Ongoing Path

Nine years after taking root in Cobán, Futuro Vivo has established a comprehensive educational model that has not only expanded in coverage but also deepened in impact. It now serves children from preschool through second year of middle school, with plans to open third year in 2025. The curriculum integrates key subjects such as entrepreneurship, certified English, robotics, and digital tools—broadening future opportunities beyond the village. This evolution has been made possible thanks to a dedicated teaching team, constantly engaged in training, attending inter-campus retreats and monthly evaluations to align pedagogy with Carmelite values. Professional development is essential: every teacher must have a university degree in education or educational psychology.

Beyond the classroom, community engagement is evident in home visits, bilingual competitions, and civic and cultural events where the school becomes a true celebration of shared learning among children, parents, and teachers.

Looking to the future, Futuro Vivo’s vision is ambitious yet deeply rooted in its mission. The school aspires to complete the secondary cycle with a contextualized technical focus—from agroecology to coffee processing—and to build partnerships with national universities so youth can continue their studies.

The Sisters are seeking new sources of funding to reduce dependence on government support and ensure long-term sustainability. One initiative involves strengthening ties with a group of women from Samac who cultivate cacao, which is then turned into chocolate by Futuro Vivo collaborators. Currently, they operate a small chocolate-making kitchen in Concepción Las Lomas called Xocolatl.

Together, what they’ve built is not just a school—it’s a space of life and hope, where every child learns not only to read and write, but also to dream, to heal, and to transform their reality. The Carmelite Missionary Sisters have responded—through tenderness and action—to a true pastoral and educational calling that continues to shine a new light over Cobán and its communities.

The Sisters invite us to walk this path with courage, to stir things up, to be revolutionary in how we teach and learn. We can no longer remain silent in the face of the deep inequalities that cut across Guatemala. But we can raise our voices and become active participants in projects like Futuro Vivo—initiatives that believe in transformative education and the construction of a more just future for all.