For the past few months, we’ve been regularly passing through a tiny village called Santo Domingo, near Buctzotz. Every time we drive through, the scene is the same: children playing by the roadside, and a small, quiet community where everyone knows everyone else.
Santo Domingo is a dead-end village. Around 220 people live here, including about 65 children. Most are descendants of Maya families whose ancestors once worked on a henequén hacienda. The hacienda is long gone. What remains is poverty – and a place the world rarely notices.
For months, one question stayed with us. What could we do? How could we help in a way that wasn’t intrusive, performative, or loud – just human?
So one Saturday, we did something very simple. We put together a few small bags of candy. Nothing extraordinary. A handful of sweets, a few chocolates, some lollipops.
We stood in the village’s central plaza and waited. We didn’t have to wait long. In small places, word travels fast. The children came – most of them with their parents. Shy. Curious. Watching quietly from a distance before stepping closer. And then we began handing out the bags.
That moment is something I won’t forget.
The soft, careful “gracias.”
The way their eyes lit up.
The way they held those little bags as if they were something precious – when, really, they were just a few pieces of candy.
But to them, it wasn’t “just” candy.
It meant someone had noticed them. Someone had come. They weren’t forgotten.
We told them we would come back in two weeks. And we will. We’ll bring something again – maybe hygiene supplies, maybe coloring books, maybe more candy. I don’t know yet. What I do know is that we’ll be there.
It’s rare that something so simple feels this meaningful.
And that’s why I wanted to write this. Because I want people to know that this village exists. That these children exist. And that sometimes, a bag of candy can carry far more than it seems.
Santo Domingo is a place many people couldn’t find on a map. But now you know it’s there. And you know that children live there – children who are happy when someone comes to visit.
We are not a foundation.
We are not an NGO.
We are simply two people who saw poverty and felt a quiet certainty: we needed to do something — even if it was small. Even if it only brings a few smiles to a few children. Some people have already joined us, once or more than once.
And if anyone feels called to join – in any way, at any time – we would be honored.
If you’d like to support in a practical way, or simply learn more, you’ll find details on the Support page.
If you’d like to reach out personally, feel free to contact us.
Creciendo juntos, floreciendo juntos.
