Joel Martinez, the director of Agros Honduras, gazed at Don Rito, a 75-year old man who had travelled 4 hours from his home near Santa Barbara to the Agros Honduras headquarters in San Pedro Sula. The coffee that Nohemy Funez, the Agros Human Development officer, had offered to Don Rito and his travelling companion, Don Ines, sat between them.
They had come with a proposition. Don Rito had heard from the Agros villagers in nearby Achotales that Agros helps poor people get land, and Don Rito and Don Ines had the perfect plot of land, on the side of a mountain. He also had five families who were ready to create a community and farm it. They had taken the name of Montañita. “It’s beautiful land,” Don Rito said, “You need to see it.” He and the five families were negotiating with the widow who owned it, he said. She was ready to sell to them. What’s more, he added, “We five families have been organized for some time. We are committed to one another, and to this project.” They only needed the money, but no one would lend it to them. Could Agros do for them what they had done for the people of Achotales?
Joel looked at him again. Typically, Agros works with the families first, and gathers a large group. Nohemy and Joel do workshops with the group, which is usually larger than it will end up being. Families drop out—the cost of working together is great, and the commitment gets tested by the informal values of Agros in the field: “Trabajo, trabajo, y mas trabajo”—work, work, and more work. Once the group has self-selected and coalesced, and assuming that Agros has gathered the necessary funds, the group looks for land, with Agros’ technical and financial support. That’s how Agros does things.
Don Rito, wrinkled by years of working fields in the hot sun, convinced of his mission, gazed back at Joel and Nohemy, who had brought the two men to see Joel. Don Rito clearly was a man with a vision.
The man across from him was a man with a problem.

Almost two years ago, Joel and Agros staff in Seattle had convinced a group of supporters to back Joel’s own vision: to combine campesinos—landless rural farmers, day laborers—with people who had moved from the countryside to the Los Bordos area of San Pedro Sula, where they lived in what one well-travelled member of that group had called “the worst slums I have ever seen.” The supporters came from all over the Pacific Northwest: Lake Grove Presbyterian Church in Portland, Oregon was joined by a group of friends from Bellevue, Washington and Ludeman Capital Management in Bellingham, WA. Together, they pledged the support that would be needed for five years of a new village to fit Joel’s vision.
Now that those donors had backed Joel’s idea, he was having trouble getting the right group together for the new village. Agros had tried to place these urban poor into the rural communities, but the fit was difficult. Urban poor are used to having cash and access to quick income; the rural poor work on a different economy, with slower income payouts. Even though they came from the same area of Honduras, there were cultural differences, and—while there had been some successes over the two years, and a lot of lessons learned—the long-term, mutual commitments that make Agros villages possible were hard to find. Joel promised Don Rito that he would look into his idea, and sent him on his way. It’s not the way we do things, he thought. We need to know the people first, without the pressure of a pending land purchase.
Don Rito went home encouraged. He told the Montañeros how well they had been treated: “You should have seen it. The Agros people gave us coffee and a little bread,” he said, “They payed for a taxi to take Don Ines and I to the bus.” Don Rito was convinced that Joel would see what they saw.
Joel was not convinced. Still, he did some networking. He spoke with the mayor of Santa Barbara, who confirmed that the Montañeros had been cooperating on projects for some time, and added that they were trustworthy and had a good reputation. Joel and Nohemy began working with the group. They introduced them to some of the families from Los Bordos slums, who were interested in returning to the land. The families talked with each other, shared their dreams for themselves and their children, and offered each other evidence of their willingness to work hard to see those dreams come true. They agreed to work together.
On the day that the Montañeros—now considerably larger in number– took Joel to look at the land, they were trying hard to be judicious: “He has to make up his own mind,” they told themselves. The more they walked the land together, the more excited Joel became. In fact, Don Rito pointed out later, “Joel was more enthusiastic than we were.”
“But there is no water,” Joel pointed out, “there has to be water, for crop irrigation and for you to use in the new homes on the land.” Together, they searched every inch of the mountainous terrain for water. They found– nothing. That’s also not how Agros does things. The land needs to have water.
A Montañero named Justiniano had a small plot of land with a spring, he said, but it was far away. The Montañeros began negotiating for the access rights they would need to get Justiniano‘s water to their fields. As far as household water for future homes on the land, the Monañeros already had a solution. Four years previous, they had obtained water for their nearby homes from an Austrian non-profit called Agua es Vida. Agros could work with them to get household water for any new home construction on the land.
The Montañeros overcame each obstacle in their way, one by one, until the day came when Agros bought the land, and they signed their promissory notes for their plots. Joel told them later, “You were like Caleb and Joshua from the Bible. Where others saw giants in the land and were afraid, you saw only the promised land.”
On January 14, an unseasonably cold day filled with mist and drizzle, Joel brought Barry Rowan, the leader of the Bellevue group of donors, to meet Don Rito and the rest of the families and to walk the land together. The three visionaries met on that mountainside for the first time: An Agros country director who had dreamed of creating a path of opportunity for reverse migration from the slums to a sustainable life, a group of Americans who had backed the idea and were waiting to see it happen, and a group of landless rural and urban poor who had long dreamed of owning their own land.

January 14 was an important day for the Montañeros: The plan for the equal division of family plots had arrived, and they were going to walk the staked-out area, showing each family the beginning of their personal vision came to reality. Families from Los Bordos were already living on the property, in temporary housing, and all of the families had cleared the land, planted corn for food security, and were about to plant their first long-term cash crop of coffee.
This corner of Honduras has three Agros villages of committed families, each with their own visions coming to life, supported by an in-country staff of nationals who have a vision for their people and their country, backed by donors who know a sustainable premise when they see one.
The visions come together, and the reality emerges out of the mist.
It IS how we do things.