While Chile is one of South America’s most prosperous nations with many modern conveniences, its people still battle an array of social problems from a poor and unfair public education system to an inadequate minimum wage. Students are protesting weekly for education reform in demonstrations that always end in violent clashes with police. The population faces an immense economic-inequality where 70 percent of the nation’s homeless have jobs, but still can’t afford shelter; the minimum wage is barely $400 a month.  The nation’s first anti-discrimination law was finally passed this year after a gay man in his 20s was bludgeoned to death by a group of neo-Nazis. Known as one of the most conservative and family-centered countries in the region, soaring domestic abuse rates have long gone under-reported. Still, 34 percent of married women have reported physical abuse at the hands of their spouses, according to the National Women’s Service. In short, there’s plenty of work to be done in improving the lives of this beautiful community.

It has always been my intention to volunteer in Chile, but the hectic life of moving abroad has yielded working two jobs, learning another language and fostering new friendships. In the midst of all that, I have embarrassingly let community service fall to the wayside. Thankfully, the chance to volunteer recently came in an unexpected place, Santiago’s Hash House Harriers.

Hash House Harriers is “an international drinking club with a running problem.” The club is full of ridiculously fun, mildly inappropriate antics, so I’ll leave the rest of the details about the group’s traditions up to your own Googling abilities. When the club took a break from the usual activities to give back to the community, I was thrilled to know I was part of a group of people who know how to have lots of fun, but have even bigger hearts.

We spent the afternoon painting 10 bedrooms for the 27 girls who live in a group home in the outskirts of Santiago. They have all been separated from their families due to abuse or economic hardships. I remember the excitement of picking out a new color of paint for my bedroom as a child, and the special sense of belonging and place that my very own color could bring. I hope this fresh layer of bright paint is a start to brighter, happier days for these lovely ladies.

The girls sleep three to a room the size of a closet. The walls were originally plastered in a nauseating pink, peeling at the edges and covered in holes.

The teeny rooms were originally plastered in Pepto-Bismol pink (yuck) with a smattering of holes. Some members of the Hash spent hours patching and preparing the walls for the rest of us to paint. The girls chose the colors for their rooms, hopefully making the little dorms they share feel more like their own.

Nora and I teamed up to paint a room for three girls aged 12 to 16. They all eagerly volunteered to help us, and by the end of the day we were splattered in plenty of lavender paint. We managed to keep their beds and floor paint-free, though, and the walls looked great. The Hash even provided new curtains with matching buttons, coat hangers and door stops to prevent more holes in the walls.

Nora, Lady and me.

Nora and the girls hard at work. We were all splattered in lavender by the end of the day.

The room Nora and I painted, all finished.

One of the other 10 rooms.

While I’m sure the girls enjoy their newly-decorated rooms, what seemed to make a greater impact required a lot less effort: Playtime. We played with the girls outside on their swingset, speaking Spanglish and showing each other tricks on the monkey bars. Laughter really is the same in every language.

It was so obvious how much the girls needed attention as they followed us around like puppies all day. Many said they had several siblings whom they hadn’t seen in months because the others still lived at home. Lady, the 12-year-old, who lived in the room I helped paint, is a twin and one of 6 children but the only one removed from her family’s home. She has been living in the group home, where she is the victim of name-calling and hair-pulling from the older girls, for more than a year. It nearly broke my heart when Lady refused to let me go when it was time to leave. She wrapped her arms around me, saying “uno más, uno más” (one more, one more) for six consecutive “last” hugs before I finally had to pull away.

The teenage gang.

“Mira, mira, mira … mi pelo!” Silly girls.

My first time ever on a teeter-totter became a game of flinging girls into the air as they squealed, more and more piling on at every chance. So much laughter. So much fun.

It’s always wonderful to be surrounded by so many people with good hearts.  The Hash Gives Back was a rewarding event that I can only hope our group organizes more often.

Various versions of a semi-complicated group photo that required organizing a few dozen kids, teens and adults in two languages.

—JDF