Azaria Spencer

‘Solo quise ser un niño . . . y no me dejaron’

Nahamans plaque

“Solo quise ser un niño . . . y no me dejaron,” “I just wanted to be a child, and they wouldn’t let me.” These heart wrenchingly sad words are carved into a plaque on the streets in zone 1, Guatemala City. Placed there to commemorate the life and death of Nahaman, a boy only 13 years old when he was killed. He was a child living on the streets and one day the police came and beat him. The plaque sits on the ground from where his broken body was picked up and taken to hospital, where he later died from his injuries. 13 years old and murdered for no other reason than that he was living on the streets, alone and without rights.

Nahaman was just one of many street children murdered by the police in Guatemala during the 90’s.
On the 12th April it will be ‘The International Day of the Street Child,’ yesterday we marched to remember those lives lost and to build awareness of the situation of children at risk of living on the streets and those people who are living on the streets right now. We marched for children’s rights. We marched to let people know that we haven’t forgotten Nahaman.

It was such a special occasion, we at Street Kids Direct joined with other organisations and people who work with and serve people living on the streets and ‘at risk’ children here in Guatemala. A group of us along with around 20 children walked from our centre in zone 9/4 to meet the others in zone 1, staff and volunteers from ‘Sigo Vivo,’ ‘Mojoca,’ ‘Go Guatemala’ and ‘café refrescante,’ along with some of the young people who currently live on the streets. Together we marched down Sexta Avenida, the main street in zone 1 to the centre. 

marching  marching 2  

We had banners and signs and the children blew whistles and shouted, as we raised awareness and stood up for the rights of those most vulnerable and shunned. It was on the way to the city centre where we paused at Nahaman’s plaque and heard his story told by Dunc Dyason, director of Street Kids Direct UK. A few solemn moments set aside where everyone, including the children, listened intently showing respect and understanding the importance of this occasion. As we gathered around Nahaman’s plaque silence ensued and I am sure I was not alone in feeling moved at such a poignant moment in time. 

It is unimaginable that a group of fully-grown men, police officers, could beat a defenceless child to the brink of death. Yet here we were stood hearing his story and remembering such an event.


The march continued; our energies renewed as we celebrated the ‘International day of the Street Child.’ When we reached central park, we gathered and sent out a live video on social media, to further build awareness.
The children played in the fountain and we sat to enjoy a snack together. There in the centre of the park is a memorial for the girls who died in the government children’s home fire in March 2017. A tragic event where yet again systems failed to protect and care for the most vulnerable.

playing in the fountain
I watched our precious children playing, running around, spraying water over each other and my heart was both heavy and elated. There have been too many children like Nahaman, who lost their lives in such horrific circumstances. There is still so much suffering, too many children living in extreme need and in such ‘high risk’ situations. Yet there I was among a group of amazing people, people who care and sacrifice daily for the rights and needs of the most vulnerable people in Guatemala City. I felt honoured to be surrounded by such people, such brave and servant hearted people. I looked at the beautiful children we work with and felt a sense of hope, knowing that their lives will be different.
What a privilege it is to be allowed to be part of such a special and hope filled event and time.

ready for the march




There I was sat on a typically uncomfortable plastic chair in the crowded waiting room at the migration offices of Guatemala City. People had been coming and going, usually with a significant waiting period in between, all morning and I had been sat with my friend and colleague Benjamin for several hours. We were fortunate enough to have a lawyer and his co-worker with us doing the hard graft on our behalves. All we needed to do was wait, sign a piece of paper and pose for a photo.
This was the second to final stage in the long road to residency.
We had already obtained the necessary documents in the UK, had them notarised and sent to the foreign office, been to the embassy in Guatemala, had the authenticity of our passports validated, paid for translations and much more, all with the enlisted help of a lawyer.

Now we were handing in our applications at migration.
I have no idea what offices like this are like in other parts of the world, not even in the UK. However, I imagine as with most things Guatemala has its own unique and slightly dishevelled way of running migration offices. But whatever my opinion the system works, you just need to carve out several hours to partake. And of course, there is little to entertain you within the grey walls of a waiting room.
Having said that, people watching in a busy waiting room can be quite entertaining, I like to guess where people are from and what brought them to Guatemala and more specifically the migration office. You get to see such a diverse mix of people. I recall observing more than one nun sat knitting as they waited for their number to be called. I felt for the parents who had to bring small children with them and find creative ways to entertain them. At a guess I saw over 10 different nationalities represented too.

Anyway, after the long wait I was handed a piece of paper that informs the reader that I am legally allowed to remain in Guatemala indefinitely, without a visa and with a view of soon being a resident.
What a strange feeling, to hold a piece of paper in my hand that meant that I can now stay here in Guatemala without leaving every three months for my visa. Technically I never have to leave again if I don’t want to. In a few months I will be issued residency, along with a formal document in my passport and a Guatemalan ID card.
Of course, in England I took my residency for granted, I didn’t even consider it as a thing. Why would I? It is my country of birth and therefore, in theory, a place I will always be able to live.

It makes me think about belonging and home. I will soon have residency in two countries. Countries that could not be more different if they tried. Both and neither are home to me now. My heart divided. When I am here in Guatemala, I miss my family and friends and at times long to be back in England, within a culture I understand and for that reason, among others, feel like I belong to.
At times I yearn to have the same freedom I once had living in the Yorkshire dales. You can take the girl out of Yorkshire, but you can’t take the Yorkshire out of the girl. Yet before I even moved to Guatemala, I knew in my heart that England was not where I would always live, I knew my life would take me someone far away.
When I went back to England after living in Guatemala for a year and a half it was great to see family and friends, however, I found myself missing my life here. I missed my new friends, the people I now call family, I missed the children, the youth, my apartment, my life. However, I do not completely belong here either.

In truth I don’t belong in England or in Guatemala, or anywhere else on this earth. And I don’t want to. I belong to God, and Him alone and my home is where He is. In that sense I can be at home anywhere and nowhere. God is everywhere, He is present. Yet we still must wait until Jesus comes again, until He redeems everything, the whole world back to Himself and there is a new heaven and earth. Redeemed and saturated with God’s glorious presence. Nothing separating us from Him, no more sin. This is the home my heart truly longs for, Eternity. To sit in the courtyards of His mansions. An earth renewed, freedom in it’s truest form. In the presence of The King. In glory.

A place I already have residency for, and I didn’t have to stand in any queues or wait in any crowded rooms. No forms or documents required or stamped for authenticity. No proof of identity.
I am His and as His child I have residency in His Kingdom. What an amazingly beautiful truth.
And it can never be taken away from me, it is mine always.
Surrender and repentance the only requirements. And a life lived for Him, a life far greater and fuller than one lived for myself could ever have been.

John 14:1-2
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?”

La Quinta

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There he was sat on the ledge, his little legs dangling over the side. He was wearing a little light blue buttoned shirt, patterned with stripped fish along with denim shorts that met the tops of his oversized welly boots. His wellies looked as if they would fall from his dangling feet at any moment as he sat grinning at me. His smile big enough and bright enough to warm any heart. As I approached, he lifted his arms to me, first wanting a cuddle to say ‘hi’ and then desiring to be swung about in the air. The joys of being a giant, moving climbing frame. 
Of course, I don’t mind at all. This one had me form first smile. 
I thoroughly enjoy going down to ‘la quinta’ and running games with the children who live nearby. It doesn’t exactly feel like work. 

However, last time I was there as I played with my friend in welly boots, I began to think about his homelife. He is one of 12, their ages range from 19 years old-8 months old. Their mother, who is in her late 30’s, recently gave birth to her 13th child, sadly he died at less than a week old. As I thought about his family I realised how easy it was to forget where these children live, what their family circumstances are and how challenging and difficult their lives must be. They live in the heart of one of the poorest areas of Guatemala City. The depravity and poverty so stark in such a place, the stench of urine, the filth of the streets, women who in desperation have turned to prostitution, men gathering to take their turn. People living on the streets, suffering from addition and mental health issues. A place saturated with violence, abuse, alcoholism, drugs and immorality. So much sin and darkness.

And yet I have had many a joy filled evening playing with the children there, a few hours a week where we can all forget and just play and have fun. For example, when we were there yesterday I was sat in the street with some of the smaller children whilst watching some of the older children playing with confetti. They were running around with plastic bags full of paper confetti and as they ran, they would reach down into their bags, pull out a handful of the tiny pieces of paper and throw it over the heads of their friends. (Part of Carnival and Easter celebrations). Sounds of laughter and joy filled the street.
At that moment a man who I know, that lives on the streets, turned down our street and walked past. He paused when he saw me and said hello. As he walked away one of the boys followed him calling his name, or street name at least, when he stopped and turned, the boy gave him a handful of confetti. What happened next warmed my heart, with a huge grin on his face he lifted his confetti filled hand above his own head and rubbed it into his hair. He looked delighted and elated. He turned and continued to walk away. It was such a brief moment but it really moved me.

It was sweet that he had stopped to greet me, it was kind that the boy had given him some of his confetti, and his child like reaction to the confetti was magical to see. So often the people you find here living on the streets have returned to many childlike behaviours, or perhaps never developed some adult behaviours. They often have stunted emotional growth, along with a myriad of mental health problems related to drug abuse and the horrors they have been through in their tough lives.
This diverse mix of work that we do here and the various groups of people we serve and work alongside, makes for very interesting and challenging days and weeks. There is rarely a dull moment and I am constantly being humbled and learning new things. From children who capture my heart with a smile to fully grown men who can barely walk straight yet can still enjoy moments of childhood joy, this work and life is filled with blessings. I hope and pray that just through being present, being there, being willing to love freely people will know more of God’s love and transformation will come.