I was full of excitement and anticipation as I got off the plane and stepped into the sweltering heat of San Salvador. A waiting van whisked us to our"families"-the homestay placements where we would spend the first leg of our Salvadorian journey. After several months of studying about El Salvador, here I was, ready to test my Spanish language skills, meet the people and live in a new culture. Sitting in the van, I already had a sense that this journey was going to change my life.

I had come with 14 other students on a two-week study immersion trip to El Salvador, where DePaul University has been actively engaged in the country's social justice movement since relations were first established in 1994. The purpose of the annual trip is to further students' understanding of Salvadorian history and culture, and to explore issues, such as war, poverty, globalization and spirituality, through a complete cultural immersion experience.

No amount of literature or lectures could have prepared me enough for what I experienced in El Salvador. It is one thing to read historical accounts and hear statistics, but to put faces to a number to see the human shape of the issue at hand is something radically different. According to recent United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) statistics, 31.1 per cent of Salvadorians live on less than $1 a day and 58 per cent on less than $2. Peace has recently been established after a brutal 12-year civil war, yet the country still faces severe economic crises, high unemployment that leads to a mass migration, destruction from natural disasters and lack of affordable public services, as well as gang violence and other issues. The history and present-day realities of El Salvador are indeed rather bleak. Yet, everywhere I visited and every person I spoke with during my stay left me with an overwhelming sense of hope.

We met with coffee producers at APECAFE-a fair trade coffee cooperative-who described the hardships caused by the decline of the world coffee market in recent years. But, they stressed, through cooperation and advocacy as a unified organization, they had been able to receive better returns for their products. Teenagers at Nueva Generación XXI, a youth-led, community-based organization, also shared with us their everyday struggles with poverty and gang violence, but instead of succumbing to their surroundings they have channelled their creative energies to create cultural arts, job training and athletic programmes for their peers. Even my host mother, Zoila, expressed her difficulties as a single-parent following her husband's emigration to the United States to financially support the family. Although they have not been able to see one another for 20 years, the family ties remain strong. Zoila showed me the stacks of letters that her husband has sent over the years, hundreds lovingly bound under her bed; she has treasured and saved every single one.

A memorial service for the 11 December 1981 El Mozote massacre. Photos/Molly Fitzpatrick

Following our week in San Salvador, we had the opportunity to visit several communities in the rural areas-one such visit had an incredibly profound impact on me. As we drove down the dusty dirt road to Copopayo, the plight of the rural poor began to take shape for me. It had been miles since we had passed the last settlement and many more since we had driven through the last town; public transportation did not bother to extend this far. Upon arrival, the village initially seemed empty and lifeless, yet, as we unloaded the van, several villagers and a gaggle of children appeared to greet us.

We spent the morning touring the town and meeting members of the community; the villagers warmly welcomed us into their homes. Sparse yet cozy, the tiny structures contained but a few utilitarian pieces and an occasional knick-knack or photo. The people of Copopayo live without indoor plumbing, as they always have. Instead they use makeshift outhouses, constructed out of heavy plastic strung up between the trees. We saw the fields where the villagers toil tirelessly, using the most basic tools to grow a decent crop from the overworked soil. The majority of the villagers end up making a living by means of subsistence farming; any surplus is sold in a distant market. I quickly noticed that there were no young men; they had left the village in search of work in El Salvador's cities, or made the ultimate trek to the United States to earn some money to send back for their family's survival.

Molly Fitzpatrick (far left), pictured with her Salvadorian host family (Zoila Mejivar Escobar, her daughter Heidi and three grandsons), graduated from DePaul University in 2006. She has studied and travelled in Mexico, Spain, Morocco, El Salvador, Guatemala, Chile, Argentina and Brazil.

Needless to say, my visit was definitely an eye-opener. As a citizen of the United States, I often forget that most of the world's inhabitants do not have the same standards of living or lifestyle that I do. What amazed me even more than their way of life was the generosity and hospitality of the people. These were individuals who had almost no material possessions, yet they gladly shared, without reservation, what little they had. At lunch, we feasted on chicken-a delicacy there-reserved only for special occasions.

That first afternoon, my fellow students and I boarded fiberglass boats and headed out across the smooth, crystal lake to Old Copopayo, accompanied by three elders from the village. Standing at the edge of a pristine riverbank, we heard an account of the atrocious massacre that had taken place there two decades before. We stood on the very ground where the Salvadorian military had brutally slaughtered over 400 innocent campesinos (peasants). One of the elders, a survivor, said he had dragged the bodies one by one up to the top of the hill in the midst of warfare to lay them to rest in a communal burial site, which we visited, hiking through the overgrown remains of what used to be their homes in the village. It was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. It's amazing to think that this war happened within my lifetime. Had I been born in a different region, I would have grown up in the midst of war-that could easily have been my name on one of those tiny wooden crosses.

The hike through Old Copopayo was indeed sobering. But later that evening the community invited us to a fiesta. Dancing and singing under the night sky, I felt a real joy and happiness from the villagers. I had to remind myself that these were the same people who had lost mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, children, spouses and friends in that brutal massacre. The weight of their loss rested heavily upon my heart, yet they were among us here-dancing, singing, laughing-able to overcome even for a short time the tragedy and suffering, to celebrate and rejoice in the beauty of life. Though these people had encountered incredible personal losses, lived through a brutal civil war and experienced poverty, they are not defeated. No self-pity-they remain hopeful and resilient.

The future of El Salvador is indeed promising. In the ten-plus years since the signing of the peace accords that officially ended the civil war, poverty indicators have been reduced dramatically. The quality of life has been steadily improving and the country appears to be on its way to achieving the UN Millennium Development Goals. Just this year El Salvador was added to the UNDP Growing Sustainable Business initiative, with a broker, who is working to bring in western businesses headquartered in San Salvador.

Several institutions not associated with the initiative have also taken on the mission of serving profitably and responsibly the country's poor and have been quite successful. The Scojo Foundation, for example, has made affordable vision care available to thousands of Salvadorians. In addition, a dozen or so of much-needed jobs were created for women, as Vision Entrepreneurs trained them to provide vision testing and sell glasses. Asociación Infocentros has helped to bridge the digital divide by establishing Internet kiosks in low-income neighbourhoods and training local people in computer technologies. Even Cessa, a local cement company, has adopted the "pro-poor" business model, improving the productivity and safety of local entrepreneurs. By assisting in the transition from mud to cement bricks, Cessa has helped producers increase sales and has dramatically reduced the risk of respiratory disease caused by smoke inhalation due to brick-firing. These are just a few of the innovative "pro-poor" business solutions that have surfaced in El Salvador in recent years.

This past summer, I returned to El Salvador for a week on my way home from studying in South America. At the top of my agenda was, of course, a visit to my Salvadorian family, who had been so hospitable to me. When I arrived at the front gate, I noticed that it had been freshly repainted. Zoila's grandsons were there waiting for me, already tall and matured in just the two years since I had last seen them. Zoila had taken off from work in order to spend the day with me. She proudly showed me a letter stating that her mortgage had been fully paid, as had a hefty medical bill for expenses incurred when her daughter suffered a serious illness some years back. She was also delighted to inform me that her husband was planning to make a visit later that summer-the first time they would see one another in twenty years-and that her daughter would be graduating from the university soon. All in all, things seemed to be going very well for my Salvadorian mother and it made me happy to know that after so many sorrowful years, things were looking brighter.

With community workers organizing their own coffee cooperatives, the proliferation of pro-poor businesses, the MDGs, the Growing Sustainable Business programme and the perseverance of the people themselves, El Salvador is on its way to a more successful and brighter future.