Stories Written in Dust

Life here is completely different.

A kind of life that cannot be explained through numbers, statistics, or quick images — only through being present, through truly looking.

Many people here, in San Antonio in San Juan de Lurigancho, live under the most basic conditions. Running water is not a given. Access to electricity isn’t either. Homes are often built from wooden pallets, held together by nails and, at times, by a bit of hope, with corrugated metal sheets as roofs. Some stand on the edges of cliffs, without any real foundation. Directly across from Make A Miracle, there is a house where part of it quite literally has no ground beneath it — it juts out over the abyss, supported by nothing but courage and necessity.

Amid all of this, dogs wander through the streets. They belong here. No one chases them away, no one is surprised by their presence. They are part of this place, like the sand, the wind, and the sun.

This contrast becomes especially clear when you see other parts of Lima. Miraflores, for example: green streets that are regularly watered, paved roads, clear structures. Two worlds — both existing within the same city. Only a few kilometers apart, and yet separated by worlds.

Here, by contrast, nothing is green.

This is desert. Sand and stone. High mountains surround the area, as if holding everything that happens here in place. The sun burns down from the sky, and the only real shade is provided by the houses themselves.

And right here, in this barren landscape, stands Make A Miracle.

A true beacon of hope.

Not only because it is the only four-story building in the area. Not only because it is painted in a striking green that immediately catches the eye. But because it radiates hope. Because it shows: something is happening here. People are not looking away.

One particularly moving part of the work is house building.

Building a house here means far more than just four walls. It means safety. Dignity. A future.

Many people help with the construction, and I was proud to be able to contribute my part as well. In the end, families often stand in front of their new homes and break down in tears — tears of relief, gratitude, and disbelief. During construction, family members repeatedly try to support the students and volunteers with small drinks, food, and gestures that say: We see you. We appreciate you.

The gratitude is tangible. And especially during the house inaugurations, the air is filled with so much emotion that it is almost impossible to put into words.

One moment that touched me deeply was a home visit with a psychologist. We visited a mother who is part of the Second Chance Program. Through Make A Miracle, she has been given a new opportunity to learn a profession. During the conversation, one could immediately sense it: this woman was full of joy — but above all, full of pride. Pride in having achieved something in her life. In being capable. In creating something.

This fate is shared by many women here. They become mothers early in life. Often, they stay at home, frequently reinforced by patriarchal structures. Their own dreams fade into the background. That is why the moments in which they begin to walk their own path again are so powerful. In workshops — for example, when crafting Christmas decorations together — mothers from different neighborhoods of Lima come together. They work side by side, laugh,

exchange stories, and create something of their own. These are small steps, but they change lives. And at the center of it all is Make A Miracle, opening up these opportunities and allowing these women to be part of something bigger.

Children, too, are at the heart of everything here.

Students support them with their homework, individually, with patience and time. Particularly noteworthy is a dedicated room with computers — a room full of possibilities. Here, children and young people can learn, write, research, and develop their skills. For many, it is the only place where they have access to this kind of education.

And it is not only the people from the surrounding area who form a community. That sense of togetherness is also deeply felt within the Make A Miracle team. From the very first day, there has been a warm, family-like atmosphere. I was welcomed with open arms. It is a young team, burning with passion for what they do. Day after day, they give everything they have to sustainably improve the lives of the people here.

Make A Miracle is more than a building.

It is a promise.

A sign that even in a landscape of sand, stone, and heat, something can grow — if people believe in one another.

And perhaps that is the greatest miracle of all.