Monday 24th of March, 2025
I remember the first day I encountered Danny. It was early one evening as I walked through La Terminal in Guatemala City with two volunteers. A small boy darted across our path from nowhere, disappearing quickly into a dark alleyway.
We settled on three wooden planks, which were makeshift surfaces by day for selling flowers. Opening a large rucksack, we laid out various worksheets for the children—colourful activities designed to engage and inspire them. Alongside the worksheets were a few simple games. It wasn't long before about ten children gathered around us, their laughter filling the air as they played games and chattered excitedly about their day.
A short while later, Danny reappeared, clutching a small plastic football. With an unbridled enthusiasm that only a child can possess, he began playing with several boys his age in the car park area in front of us.
Danny was quiet. He chose his words sparingly but expressed himself with ease as he called for the ball and complained when one of his friends missed a golden opportunity to score. His love for football was evident in his every movement—each kick of the ball spoke volumes about his passion and joy for the game.
Later that evening, I conversed with his siblings—his brother, Carlos, and sisters, Amanda and Roxanne. They expressed concern about Danny spending increasing amounts of time on the streets. There was a consensus among them that his current path might lead to harm or involve him in activities inappropriate for someone his age.
That night marked the beginning of my journey with Danny, a young boy who rarely smiled and seemed driven by an unspoken need to prove something to the world.
As the years unfolded, Danny faced many trials and temptations. The chaotic nature of his family life offered little stability or the nurturing environment he needed to thrive. He rejected school numerous times—yet each rejection was followed by attempts to reintegrate and learn.
Despite these challenges, it was clear to me that Danny was exceptionally bright. He possessed a sharp mind, was quick on his feet, and had streetwise instincts that served him well in navigating his surroundings. His curiosity led to endless questions about the world and how things worked—an inquisitive nature that hinted at boundless potential if only channelled into the right opportunities.
Life seemed to perpetually challenge Danny, and he often voiced his feeling of not belonging to this world. He yearned for something beyond his daily existence in La Terminal, the bustling heart of Guatemala City's central market area.
Watching him lurch from one struggle to another was heart-wrenching. Fights, beatings, death threats, and the seductive allure of street life eventually wore him down. The streets claimed him full-time as he succumbed to their dangerous embrace.
Now 17, Danny had resigned himself to life on the streets, with all its inherent perils and destructive habits. Those of us who cared for him were deeply concerned about his health and safety. The risks loomed large: the violence, substance abuse, and constant exposure to danger weighed heavily on him—and on our hearts.
Despite it all, there remained a glimmer in Danny's eyes—a hint of the hopeful spirit that once aspired for more.
Before returning to the UK, I visited Danny earlier this month. He was in rough shape after being hit by a car, and his injuries were severe enough that I'd helped his brother take him to the emergency department at the main city hospital. Unable to walk and in a lot of pain, Danny looked defeated.
Unfortunately, the hospital sent him right back to the streets. This dismissal felt like just another rejection—a painful reminder to Danny of his perceived worthlessness.
As the weeks passed, his health continued to decline. Just before I departed for the UK, I made an impassioned plea for him to enter a rehab program. Having buried other members of his family, it pained me deeply to think that without help, I might soon be planning Danny’s funeral. The harsh truth lingered between us like an unspoken weight.
Wanting to lift the mood even slightly, I asked Danny to recall a time when he was most happy.
Danny immediately took me back to 2022, recounting with great fondness the trip he, his brother Carlos, and I had taken to Rio Dulce—a breathtaking river that winds its way to the Caribbean coast. My friends, Sheldon and Pamela, had graciously offered us a cabin at their tranquil river resort.
For Danny, this journey was an eye-opener. His world expanded beyond the confines of La Terminal in a way he'd never experienced before. As we travelled through fields dotted with cows and vast mountains stretching toward the sky, I could see his anticipation building. Upon reaching the river, he couldn’t wait to leap out of the car and take it all in. The sight filled him with wonder, and for the first time in ages, I saw him smile—a pure expression of joy I'd seldom witnessed.
On our last day at Rio Dulce, something extraordinary happened with Danny. He no longer seemed burdened by the weight of street life; he stood taller, lighter, and free. In that moment, it became clear to me that he didn't belong to the chaotic world of La Terminal.
As if out of nowhere, Danny came running toward me, enveloping me in a heartfelt hug and holding on tight. It was a special moment filled with warmth and understanding. In his embrace, I felt hope—a glimmer that perhaps now he could see life in a new light, one filled with possibilities beyond his previous experiences. There was a chance for change, and as we parted from the river's side, I believed this newfound sense of freedom could be a turning point for Danny's future.
Sadly, the hope that once flickered for Danny eventually dimmed. The pull of the streets proved too powerful, ensnaring him once again in its relentless embrace. His life slipped back into emptiness, despite our tireless efforts to help.
On a Saturday afternoon, Juan Carlos, a devoted prevention worker with the SKDGuatemala project, rushed Danny to the hospital. His body was failing him, and despite the valiant efforts of the overwhelmed hospital staff, Danny lost his battle for survival and passed on to stand before God.
Today, family, friends, and the SKDGuatemala team gathered to carry Danny's body to its final resting place in the General Cemetery of Guatemala City. It was a sombre and distressing affair for everyone involved.
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I could not change my flight to be with Danny during his final moments on Earth. I feel guilty for my absence, but I hold onto the memories of those brief moments when he felt lighter and free by the river.
As I sit here in the UK, preparing to return to my home in Guatemala tomorrow, I reflect on Danny's life. My mind is filled with lingering questions—could we have done more? Did we love him too much or not enough? The familiar "if only" conversations echo within me, each one still wishing this chapter had a different ending.
Danny, we will miss you deeply, and your life will not be forgotten. Your spirit remains etched in our memories, and your story continues to inspire our efforts. While we mourn your loss, we also celebrate the moments of joy and freedom you briefly tasted. Rest assured that your journey has left an indelible mark on us all. I hope that writing this not only helps me verbalise my feelings but also leaves a mark in history to your life and struggle. Rest in peace, dear Danny.
Duncan Dyason is the founder and Director of Street Kids Direct and founder of Toybox Charity. He first started working with street children in 1992 when he moved to Guatemala City and founded The Toybox Charity. His work has been honoured by Her Majesty the Queen and he was awarded an MBE the year he celebrated working over 25 years to reduce the large population of children on the streets from 5,000 to zero. Duncan continues to live and work in Guatemala City.