A road, before dawn, and the names we learned that morning.
Some years ago, our executive director was living in a small town in Guatemala. The town's mayor had recently fled — the community had discovered he had been embezzling for years — and the town was operating without functional local government. Foreigners and locals lived in the same place but mostly in parallel.
One day word went out: tomorrow was road-clearing day. Because no government was going to do it, the town would do it. Everyone — foreigners and locals together — woke up before dawn and worked on their assigned section of road. By the end of the morning, neighbors who had passed each other for months without speaking knew each other's names. From that day forward, encounters at the tienda became conversations. Conversations became dinners. Dinners became the kind of cross-cultural friendships no organized program could have manufactured.