I saw a man crawling through the mud to sell eggs. Then he told me why.

Dear reader,

It was raining when I saw him. On the side of a dirt road in Ecuador, a man was pushing a small wooden cart through the mud. Fruit, a few eggs, a chicken. A dog walked beside him. What stopped me was how he was moving: not on his feet, but on the ground, dragging his body forward with his arms.

I walked over and asked if we could talk. Then I asked if I could follow him for a while and see what his day looked like. He said yes. His name is Gregorio. Everyone calls him Goyito.

He was born with a rare condition. He cannot support himself on his legs, and his arms are twisted and curved, so movements most of us make without thinking are painful for him. The only way he can get from one place to the next is to crawl. That is how he goes to work.

He wasn’t begging. He was working.

That was the first thing that struck me. Goyito was not asking anyone for money. He was selling. He had things to sell, a route, and people along it who knew him. When there is nothing to sell, he collects bottles and cardboard to recycle. On a good day he earns a few dollars.

Goyito with his wooden work cart on a muddy road, adapted from campaign footage — The road where we met him. The cart carries eggs, fruit and, that day, a chicken.

Following him, I understood what those few dollars cost. Reaching a buyer means crossing ground that cuts his skin. Handling eggs means using arms that already hurt. The cuts get infected. He falls. He told me all of this the way you would describe the weather: things that happen, things he deals with, and then he goes back out the next morning.

$200 a month, earned a few dollars at a time

While we walked, he told me where the money goes. His mother has diabetes. Her medicine costs about $200 a month. For a household living on what a roadside cart brings in, that is not a bill. It is the whole month.

Not long ago, Goyito lost his father. Since then he is the one who provides for the house. There is no one else.

I asked him why he keeps doing it, knowing what it does to his body. He did not hesitate:

“She gave her life for me when I was little. Now it’s my turn to give everything for her.”
— Goyito

I have thought about that sentence many times since. He was not describing a burden. He was describing a debt he is glad to pay.

A closer view of Goyito based on the original campaign photograph — Gregorio, known as Goyito. What he sells pays for his mother’s medicine.

Her medicine is about $200 a month. If you would like to help him pay for it, give one week of medicine ($50) or a full month ($200), and keep reading.

The one thing he asked for

At no point did Goyito ask me for money. When I asked what would help him most, he talked about a motorized wheelchair, or any kind of support that would let him move without dragging himself on the ground.

A basic motorized wheelchair from a medical supplier in Ecuador costs about $1,500. Think about what that would change for him. No more open wounds from the road. No more infections. Arms that could rest. A working day that starts on wheels instead of on his hands. He could keep selling, keep earning, and keep taking care of his mother, without his body breaking down a little more each week.

Goyito supporting himself beside a wooden cart carrying plantains, adapted from campaign footage — Every load, like these plantains, is moved by hand and by arm.

That is what this fundraiser is for. Not to replace his work. To make it survivable.

If you would like to help him get there, you can give $50, one week of his mother’s medicine or $200, a full month. Her medicine comes first, then the wheelchair.

Where every dollar goes

After meeting Goyito, we started this fundraiser. The goal is $8,000, in three stages. Wholehuman Collective, a registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit, receives the donations, and our team in Ecuador delivers everything to Goyito and his mother in person.

Planned use of funds
Purpose	Amount
Stage 1. His mother’s medicine, food and medical careAbout $200 a month in medication, plus medical care for his mother, food, hygiene items and household essentials, and medical evaluations for Goyito’s condition.	$3,200
Stage 2. The wheelchair, and care for his bodyA motorized wheelchair (about $1,500 from Ecuadorian suppliers; we will help Goyito choose it at the end of the fundraiser), therapy, pain management and follow-up visits.	$2,400
Stage 3. A safer home and work, and an emergency reserveBasic accessibility changes, tools so he can work with less risk, and a reserve for future medical and living needs.	$2,400
Total goal	$8,000

Source: the campaign’s proposed budget and current supplier prices in Ecuador. Allocations describe intended support; they do not represent completed purchases.

If the fundraiser passes $8,000, the next thing on Goyito’s list is a simple car, so he can reach customers and his mother’s appointments without crawling. A basic used car in Ecuador costs about $9,000, and anything raised past the goal goes toward it.

“I only ask for the chance to keep taking care of my mother”

Before I left, I asked Goyito if there was anything he wanted to say to the people who would see his story. He said:

“God keeps me alive and gives me strength. I only ask for the chance to keep taking care of my mother.”
— Goyito

Then he went back to his cart. There was still daylight, and things left to sell.

Goyito sharing an embrace with the man who met him in the campaign footage — Goyito and the team member who met him, at the end of the day we spent together.

I couldn’t just walk away after meeting him. Now that you know his story, I’m asking you not to look away either. More than 100 people have already given. He has done the hard part: he goes out every day, on his hands, in the rain, and comes home with what he could earn. The gap between what he earns and what his mother needs is the part that can be closed from here.

With gratitude,Rick DuffyWholehuman Collective team in Ecuador

P.S. The wheelchair is the one thing Goyito asked for. It costs about $1,500. If a few hundred readers give the price of a week of his mother’s medicine, $50, he stops crawling to work this year. At the end of the fundraiser we will go live with him so you can see it yourself.

Give one week of medicine ($50)

Stand with Goyito

Help Goyito stop crawling to work

$50 covers one week of his mother’s medicine. $200 covers a full month. Her medicine comes first, then the wheelchair.

More amounts →

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Wholehuman Collective, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. EIN 92-0584007.
Delivered in person by our team in Ecuador, with a public update when each stage is delivered.
Secure payment by Stripe. Tax-deductible in the U.S.

Goyito looking toward the camera beside his wooden support, adapted from campaign footage

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