It truly is a long way—from Abbeville, Alabama, in the Deep South of the USA to Gautuso, Costa Rica, a small rural farming community tucked away in the northern lowlands of Central America. The distance is measured not only in miles but also in culture, language, landscape, and life experience. Yet, as this journey proves, the human heart has a remarkable ability to bridge even the widest of gaps.
A Journey Begins in the Heat of June
It was the first week of June, and the heat was already intense. As we set out in a northeasterly direction, we traveled out of the shadow of the mighty Arenal Volcano, its perfect cone rising majestically against the sky. The roads wound through lush countryside, lined with fields of cattle, pineapple plantations, and dense tropical forest. Our destination was Guatuso, a quiet and often overlooked corner of Costa Rica that feels far removed from the country’s bustling tourist hubs.
This region is rich in history and culture. The original inhabitants of the area are the Maleku Indigenous people, whose ancestors lived along the rivers and forests of northern Costa Rica long before Spanish colonization. Today, only about 650 Maleku people remain, preserving their traditions as best they can in a rapidly changing world. Many make their living by hand-carving wood into beautiful shapes of animals, birds, and flowers, then carefully hand-painting them in vivid, eye-catching colors. These works of art are sold to visitors who come to hike trails along the nearby rivers and learn about Maleku culture.
The Mystery of the Blue River
One of the natural wonders of the Guatuso area is the Río Celeste, often referred to simply as “the blue river.” Yes—it truly is blue, an almost surreal shade that looks as though someone poured turquoise paint into the water. The river’s color comes from minerals that mix deep underground before the water emerges to the surface. Its birthplace lies hidden within the dense forest of Tenorio Volcano National Park, a place that feels almost mystical.
Visitors who hike the trails along the river are rewarded with breathtaking views, the sound of rushing water, and a sense of awe at nature’s artistry. For the Maleku people, these rivers are more than scenic attractions—they are sacred lifelines, deeply tied to their identity and history.
A Mission of the Heart
My friend Paulette and I did not come to Guatuso as tourists. We came with a mission—one born thousands of miles away in Abbeville, Alabama. Our destination was the Tujankir School, located at the end of a long, winding dirt road about ten miles outside the village of Guatuso. The road was rough and dusty, flanked by farmland and patches of jungle, reminding us just how remote this community truly is.
The Tujankir School serves sixty kindergarten and grammar school students from the surrounding rural area. There are four dedicated teachers, doing their best with very limited resources. The student body is a beautiful mix of Costa Rican children, Nicaraguan immigrants, and Indigenous students, all learning side by side.
Our purpose was simple yet powerful: to deliver donations collected by the Abbeville United Methodist Church. These included:
- Seventeen soccer uniforms
- Four soccer balls
- School supplies such as card games, crayons, writing paper, Legos, pencils, and pens
- One hundred colorful T-shirts, generously donated by the T-Shirt Factory in Abbeville
What may seem ordinary in the United States can be extraordinary in a place like Guatuso.
Soccer, Smiles, and Shared Joy
When the children put on their new soccer uniforms, something magical happened. Boys and girls alike stood taller, their eyes lighting up with excitement and pride. Soccer, after all, is more than a sport in Costa Rica—it is a passion, a national language spoken without words.
As the game began, laughter and cheers filled the air. Barefoot or wearing worn shoes, the children ran across the dusty field with pure joy. Paulette and I cheered from the sidelines, clapping and laughing along with them. In that moment, it didn’t matter where we came from. There was no language barrier, no cultural divide—just the universal happiness of children playing a game they love.
A Meal Made with Love
After the game, we were invited to share lunch at the Tujankir School. A young Costa Rican woman welcomed us with a warm smile and prepared a delicious, simple meal. The food was humble, yet deeply satisfying—made not just with ingredients, but with kindness and generosity.
Sharing a meal is one of the most meaningful ways to connect with people, and this lunch reminded us that hospitality does not depend on wealth. It depends on heart.
Inside the Tujankir School
The school itself was newly built, only about a year old, and painted a bright blue that stood out beautifully against the green landscape. Sunlight streamed through large windows, illuminating the classrooms. Inside, children sat at wooden desks, carefully copying lessons into notebooks as teachers wrote on blackboards at the front of the room.
There were no textbooks. No computers. No smartboards. Learning here relies heavily on imagination, repetition, and the dedication of teachers who believe deeply in the value of education.
Despite the lack of resources, the classrooms were filled with curiosity and determination. These children want to learn. They want opportunities. And they deserve them.
From Alabama to Costa Rica—A Shared Humanity
Standing in that classroom, it was impossible not to reflect on how far we had come—from Abbeville, Alabama to Guatuso, Costa Rica. Two small towns in different countries, connected by compassion and generosity.
In Abbeville, people gathered supplies, donated uniforms, and packed boxes without ever meeting the children who would receive them. In Guatuso, children opened those boxes with wide eyes and grateful smiles. This is the quiet power of community—when people care beyond their own borders.
Lessons Learned Along the Way
This journey taught us many lessons:
- Gratitude does not depend on abundance.
- Education is a universal hope.
- Children everywhere respond to kindness in the same way—with joy.
- The world feels smaller when we choose to connect rather than divide.
It also reminded us that travel is not just about seeing new places; it’s about understanding lives different from our own and recognizing how deeply we are all connected.
A Long Way—But Worth Every Mile
Yes, it is a long way from Abbeville, Alabama to Guatuso, Costa Rica. The roads are long, the cultures different, and the landscapes unfamiliar. But the warmth of a child’s smile, the excitement of a soccer game, and the shared experience of learning and giving make every mile worthwhile.
In the end, this journey wasn’t about distance—it was about bridging hearts, proving that compassion travels farther than geography ever could.