Three weeks into her service stay in Villa El Salvador, Laura Sharp already knows that it will be difficult to say goodbye to her host family and friends, all members of the church known as Fuente de Luz, or source of light. She has quickly become a member of the community, known to all as Laurita.

She attends services with her host mother, Luz, and her grandparents, Gamaniel and Mira, two of the founding members of the Villa el Salvador community. Beyond that, though, her service work ensures that she will visit many members of Fuente de Luz, as she travels door to door, compiling a profile of the congregation through interviews.

During our visit, Laura interviewed a family member, Luz, and another church member who has been accompanying her on the interviews, Katy. For Katy it was a role reversal, since she, like Laura, has usually been on the interviewer’s side of the table.

Here is a sampling of the questions that Laura is asking of the church members (translated from the Spanish): How many people live in your house? Does anyone in your house work outside of the house? How much daily or monthly income does the family receive? Did you go to high school? Do you have health insurance? Do you have any suggestions for leaders of the church?

The questions reflect the reality of poverty for many of the members. Villa El Salvador, praised though it is as a model shantytown, offering parks, community kitchens (comedors) and schools within walking distances of residents, remains on the outskirts of Lima, an hour-long bus ride from the neighborhoods where money flows freely.

As we sat on a park bench near her house, within sight of a cancha, or soccer field, where many of the older boys were playing on the dirt field without shoes, a small boy came over several times asking for money. Laura said that one of the most difficult interviews included the revelation that one family was leaving a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old on their own for part of the day.

She has learned that one mototaxi driver, who earns his living in the little three-wheeled carts that zip around town, earns about 40 soles, or $14, a day. Another family has a small business that brings in 70 soles, or $24, a week. All the families have electricity; most have running water; TV’s are plentiful in the home, but computers are not.

“The families are always hospitable,” she said. “We are often offered tea or snacks, and one time we were served lunch. Even when we are welcomed, we don’t always know where to sit. In one home the hermana told us to come in and sit down, but there were no chairs to sit on.”

Three days a week Laura conducts these interviews. One day a week she enters data onto a computer at the central church office, preparing a report that officials say will help them to know the congregation better and may assist in fund-raising efforts. Two days a week she helps out at a comedor near her house, cutting up carrots, celery, and broccoli, and peeling potatoes.

Her family served us a generous lunch of chicken soup as the starter, and aji de gallina as the main meal. Before the meal, Laura joined them in singing grace. The words, in Spanish, went something like this:

Por la comida que tú nos das
y por la luz el día de hoy
por nuestro pan, hogar, y salud
Padre las gracias te damos a ti

For the food that you give to us,
and for the light of the day,
for our bread, home and health,
Father, we give you thanks.

Laura told of one adventure that came about because of her concern for the quietest member of the household, Gringo, a yellow kitten who arrived just a few days before Laura herself did. Well, one night the family went to bed with Gringo apparently missing. Laura woke up around 3 and thought she heard Gringo mewing outside.

She tiptoed to the front door and wanted to open it a crack, just enough to let in Gringo. At that moment, in the middle of the night, she and the neighbors learned that her family had a very powerful house alarm. And as for Gringo? It turns out that Gringo was actually safely at home, but in hiding. All is well. Padre las gracias te damos a ti.