DNFG BLOG POSTS

Imagine having just hours to gather everything you own—your clothes, documents, maybe a few treasured items—then leaving your home forever under threat. For millions in Colombia, this is everyday reality. As UNHCR reports, around 7 million people are internally displaced in Colombia due to violence and conflict, making it one of the highest rates in the world. Displacement by the Numbers In 2024 alone, over 63,000 people were forced to flee conflict in Colombia — the largest mass displacement so far this year. Most escape with no preparation, often leaving everything behind to protect themselves or their children. Many arrive in cities like Medellín—scared, undocumented, and without access to housing, schooling, or jobs. Since 1997, more than 230,000 displaced people have resettled in Medellín. While the city offers safety, it doesn’t guarantee support. Many IDPs (internally displaced persons) end up in informal settlements, navigating poverty and exclusion with little help. From the Ground: Fundación Caminos Organizations like Fundación Caminos, based in Medellín, are working from the ground up. Caminos is based in a neighborhood where almost everyone had to flee because of the armed conflict. The projects that Caminos offers is to support—children, and youth—with education, sports, recreation, cultural programs and psychosocial support, but most importantly: a sense of belonging. One of their team members shared this: “Most of the mothers who come to us have left everything behind—land, family, belongings. They arrive with trauma and no legal documentation. Many can’t read. Some haven’t slept in a bed for months.” Fundación Caminos runs programs where children can do sports, play and learn safely. These aren’t just support services—they’re lifelines to rebuild dignity and community. For those looking to volunteer in Medellín and make a real impact, working with grassroots initiatives like Caminos is one of the most meaningful ways to contribute. What Small, Local Organizations Do While large international NGOs often receive most of the funding, local grassroots foundations like those supported by Digital Nomads for Good (DNfG) are often the ones doing the daily, hands-on work. Here’s what some of these organizations do to support displaced people in Medellín: These organizations may be small in size, but their reach is enormous. Their programs are built on trust, lived experience, and community leadership — making them impactful options for those who want to donate or volunteer in Medellín as a way of giving back. A Future Built From Almost Nothing Displaced families often arrive in Medellín with just a plastic bag and a phone number scribbled on paper—if they’re lucky. Many had no warning, no time to plan. If they had stayed, they would have risked forced recruitment, violence, or death. And yet, despite the trauma, resilience thrives. One teenager supported by Sembradores de Paz now leads peer theater workshops for other (displaced) youth. A mother trained through Fundación Conciencia now facilitates weekly activities for women. These are the quiet victories that turn survival into strength. But the Challenge Remains Colombia’s displaced population continues to grow. Meanwhile, more than 65% of IDPs live below the poverty line, and only 15% have stable housing. UNHCR warns that funding cuts could affect thousands of children and families who rely on protection services this year. Why It Matters (Especially for Digital Nomads in Medellín) If you’re a digital nomad living in Medellín, you’ve probably fallen in love with the city’s beauty and energy. But just outside the coffee shops and coworking spaces, thousands of families are fighting to rebuild after unimaginable loss. This isn’t about guilt — it’s about connection and community. As nomads, we have the unique chance to use our presence for good, and help build bridges between privilege and need. By supporting small, community-led organizations — whether through time, visibility, or funding — we can help displaced families rebuild their lives with dignity. What You Can Do If you’re looking for a way to volunteer, donate, or support charity in Medellín, start with grassroots initiatives like: They don’t need a million-dollar grant. They need allies. People who care. People like you. Because when someone is forced to leave everything behind, the smallest gesture of welcome can become the seed of a new life. Written by Sabine Bouwmeester,  COO at Digital Nomads for Good, where she helps connect local led organizations with people who want to make a real impact. She believes that generosity, critical thinking, and good coffee can change the world — in that order. Sources

In 2014, a dream took root in the heart of Medellín, Colombia. Yanira Castro and Lorena Vasquez were the two women behind the vision that would go on to transform the lives of thousands. Their inspiration for founding the Sueños y Huellas Foundation can be captured in three words: love, faith, and inquilinatos. What Are Inquilinatos? Inquilinatos are overcrowded shared housing arrangements, often in deteriorating buildings that have been subdivided into small rental rooms. Found mostly in impoverished urban areas, these spaces are characterized by unsanitary conditions, unsafe environments, and systemic neglect. In many cases, they are exploited by criminal groups for drug trafficking, human exploitation, and even the sexual abuse of minors. Families who live in inquilinatos face daily threats to their health, safety, and dignity. A Mission Born from Experience Lorena Vasquez spent her childhood and part of her adolescence in the inquilinatos of Medellín. She experienced firsthand the hardships, risks, and vulnerabilities that come with life in such environments. Thanks to the support of her family, she was able to break free, pursue an education, and eventually become the director of a well-regarded local foundation. It was in that role that she met Yanira Castro. Over time, the two developed a strong friendship, united by their shared commitment to social change. Motivated by their personal experiences and a desire to uplift the most neglected communities in their city, they decided to create their own foundation. As if guided by destiny, the legal paperwork for the foundation was processed in record time. When they began considering what kind of social work to pursue, all signs pointed in the same direction: the families living in Medellín’s inquilinatos. The Niñez En Familia Program The foundation’s first major initiative was Niñez En Familia (“Childhood in Family”), a program designed to support children and their families living in the inquilinatos of central Medellín. The program currently serves 55 children between the ages of 5 and 13, providing them with nutritious meals, education, psychosocial support, and—most importantly—a safe and nurturing environment to grow up in. The work doesn’t stop with the children. Their parents also receive training, tools, and resources to help them become protectors of their children’s rights and to improve their family’s overall quality of life. Impact and Ambitions for the Future Over the past 11 years, the Sueños y Huellas Foundation has supported the healthy development of more than 400 children, helping them escape cycles of poverty and violence. Despite this progress, the need remains great. According to ISVIMED, the city agency responsible for monitoring housing data, there are an estimated 3,000 people currently living in inquilinatos across Medellín. The foundation’s goal is to expand its reach and bring hope to even more families trapped in these vulnerable living conditions. With love, faith, and unyielding dedication, the dream that began in 2014 continues to grow—one child, one family, one inquilinato at a time.

On a Monday morning in September, 2019 in Medellin, Colombia, three women had their weekly meeting at Semilla Café Semilla cafe in the Laureles neighborhood. Snugly ensconced in what they affectionately called their “private tiki hut,” Erin, Mar and Sheridan sipped delicious lattes and cappuccinos while passionately planning to launch the nonprofit organization Proyecto Florecer.  The original plan was to offer emotional resilience workshops to local teenage girls with the goal of helping them make positive life choices, avoid toxic relationships and develop a healthy sense of self, but as with so many other things, this plan was interrupted by the arrival of COVID-19 in early 2020.  The team quickly pivoted, and responding to the new needs of the community, they began supporting a group of Colombian and Venezuelan families in Barrio Antioquia with monthly groceries. Each of the heads of household were single mothers trying to raise their children in one of the most difficult neighborhoods in the city, where drug deals go down literally on every corner. They shared their feelings of isolation, worries about putting food on the table, and fears for their children’s futures. In response, Proyecto Florecer opened a community kitchen at the cultural center in that same neighborhood and invited the women to come and serve lunch to people in need in the community. Each shift also participated in workshops that included vocational skills, mental health and physical wellbeing. The community kitchen quickly became a popular volunteering opportunity for digital nomads from around the world. Personal coaches, entrepreneurs, yoga instructors and therapists facilitated workshops for the women while others simply came to help prepare the food. The volunteers and program beneficiaries all reported a deep sense of community and appreciation for the cultural exchange. Many of the volunteers became long-term supporters even after they left Medellin, like April, who managed the website for three years; Ben, who continues to support technology and project management; and Alejo, who helps with social media. Once the crisis of the pandemic receded, Proyecto Florecer decided to close the community kitchen at the end of 2023 so they could focus on their core objective of education and expand to other neighborhoods. By summer of 2024 they were delivering a combination of emotional wellbeing programs for women, men and teenagers in 5 neighborhoods, with as many as 28 events per month. Today they also offer vocational programs to help participants develop skills to create their own micro businesses, and in 2025 they introduced the Academy of Emotional Mastery, a multi-week formal curriculum for teenagers and adults. Proyecto Florecer continues to be run 100% by volunteers and relies on the generous donations of time and money from locals and digital nomads to support their workshops and back-office needs from fundraising to technology management.

Digital Nomadism is on the rise. The chances are that, if you’re reading this, you either are, were, or are considering becoming location independent. It’s a lifestyle that allows you to explore the world, experience new cultures, and live a life untethered to your desk, often whilst also paying no tax locally. I’ve been a digital nomad for 2.5 years, and I can’t recommend it highly enough… With one exception. I’m currently in Medellín. According to Nomad List, there are around 7,500 of us here at the moment. That’s a lot of Airbnbs to fill, and a lot of new buildings being constructed in the most desirable areas. It’s a lot of bars and restaurants jacking up prices to take advantage of foreign money. And it’s a lot of residents finding that they can’t afford to live in the area they grew up in. In the long term, I don’t see this as being sustainable, when we visit for 3-6 months, and then leave; reaping all the benefits a city has to offer, whilst facing none of the consequences. Something’s got to give. With New York’s Local Law 18 coming into effect, Airbnb has been de facto banned there; Italy may soon have a law to curb short-term rentals across the country; and Portugal has stopped issuing licences for Airbnb. The way digital nomads exist at present is under threat.  Why Change? As it stands, there is no real way for nomads to positively contribute directly and consistently to the cities they live in. There is a definite sense that foreigners don’t really care about their neighbours. Visiting a new place is a means to an end: a way to save money, with an elevated quality of life. People are sick of hearing “OMG it’s so cheap here!”, when what the person saying it means is “OMG it’s so cheap here for me!”.  Why Now? We’re at a tipping point: the world is either going to have nearly a billion nomads by the end of 2035, which according to Worldometer, will be 11% of the planet… Or the bubble will burst, cities and countries will say “Screw this, the increase in tourism doesn’t offset the negative impact”, and it’ll be over. I believe that nomads can be a force for good. We need to show that that’s true, before that opportunity is taken away from us. Why Us? DNfG is just a start, but it’s a good start. Our platform is not an all-encompassing solution, but it is a way to make a positive impact in the cities in which we’ll operate. We can’t undo gentrification, and we can’t fix poverty. But with your help, we can provide funds to charities working with those most affected by inequality; we can show that digital nomadism can be beneficial to cities that accept us; and we can all feel a little better about what we’re putting out into the world.

It’s been 23 years of living in Colombia, enjoying the beauty and the magic this country has to offer. I come from Quindío, a place in the heart of the central mountain ranges of the Colombian Andes, home to probably the best coffee in the world, surrounded by astonishing landscapes everywhere you look. Although, I should mention that I come from a somewhat privileged background, where very harsh realities all over the country are well known and aware in the public consciousness, but turned a blind eye by the vast majority.  In Colombia, according to MinSalud, around 34 thousand people live on the streets. Part of the homeless population are users of a substance called Basuco, the term comes from cocaine’s waste, this drug is very present in areas like the Bronx in Medellín. There are multiple “Bronx” named areas all over the country, these are places filled with drug abuse, crime, prostitution.. It’s society’s “under the rug” areas, where all the problems out of hand meet, where dehumanisation 0-happens at its worst. And seeing this with my own eyes could be described as terrifying.   DNfG has brought us closer to wonderful and caring organisations that do care about the people left aside, one of them is Everyday Homeless. They work in the Bronx in Medellín, bringing aid in many ways to communities in need that habit this frightening place. For us it is very important to know the work our associates do first hand, this is the reason I visited the Bronx for the first time.  From the main staircase entrance to Prado Metro station, 4 massive metal vents from the subway give you a warm welcome to the Bronx. I took a deep breath and got ready for what was ahead of me. We started walking down the street, at first it’s a block walk through a street filled with people laying in filth, all carrying a small wooden pipe (used for basuco consumption). On the block to the right, there’s at least 500 people packed in one single street, almost all of them smoking basuco, and to the left, there was our destination. Inside the apartment complex, there were the kids that live in this street, all having fun, all being kids! All naive and innocent about the reality they live in.  Visiting a place like this, knowing the community and experiencing their reality changed my life. Through DNfG, these people’s lives can fundamentally change, and a future could be made possible for these kids. The feeling of going into a place like this is inexplicable, it’s the idea of going through a very stressful place and wanting to go back, for good reasons, to help, to spread love to people that have never received it in any way. It’s hell, but there’s good hearts inside it.

“Charity begins at home” she told me, perplexed, after I had finished describing the idea behind DNfG. “Exactly. All this poverty, these charity projects, you can find here in the UK too”, chipped in the other. And it’s true. I couldn’t deny that there was a need everywhere. But this is exactly why our organisation is needed. “It has to start somewhere”, I pointed out.  We three were huddled around a stocky table in a too-stuffy pub somewhere on the south coast of England, for one of our sporadic catch-ups. Coming out of the January chill and peeling off three of my four layers, it was hard to believe that a few short days ago I was in 30 degree heat, coordinating an event that would welcome over a dozen charities working alongside us. Now, I found myself having to justify to two of my closest friends why I wanted to turn my attention to a country half a world away; a country whose language I didn’t speak and to which I had no discernable ties. To them, this was out of character for me: I had spent my life making steady, measured moves to cultivate a quiet, stable life.  But sometimes life has other plans. Last spring I found myself visiting my best friend in Colombia, and something just felt different. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Perhaps it’s what gap-year students are seeking when they embark on their adventures – that particular milestone I had skipped. Perhaps it’s what keeps digital nomads travelling. All I knew was that I could not unsee, could not unfeel, what I had experienced; I would return home changed, and with a hunger to go back. How could I not? We had stayed in a beautiful apartment for a fraction of what something similar would cost in the UK, with bills included. We had been able to eat out and order Ubers without a second thought for the cost. People were friendly and welcoming, despite my Spanish vocabulary extending to only about 5 phrases. More than a holiday, it felt like a possibility for a fresh start. It felt like the beginning of something. A couple of weeks later I was catching up with the same friend, reminiscing about that fortnight spent meandering around sun soaked streets, when they mentioned a conversation they’d had with a couple of disgruntled locals. The topic was becoming a typical one: the community was unhappy with the influx of tourists overstaying their welcome and workation, annexing cafés and appropriating apartments. This wandering workforce was displacing those that called the city their home. Yes, their disposable income fuelled the very businesses that provided jobs for the city residents, but they had no real stake in the towns and cities they breezed through. Despite their best intentions of documenting an idyllic, carefree lifestyle, they were unwittingly driving an economy that was increasingly reliant on, and resentful of, their fleeting business. Even with the groundswell of support for more ethical and mindful practices such as slowmadism, shopping at independent establishments and putting in the effort to rent through private landlords, rather than line the pockets of large corporations and Airbnbs, the damage was done and the reputation had stuck: digital nomads, tourists and expats were collectively seen as largely unwelcome, their only positive contribution to the community being to keep the economy ticking over. As an anxious traveller who had trawled online forums for tips and advice before visiting Medellín, I had seen the other side: people who were excited to experience a rich culture and vibrant community, people who were drawn to the City of Eternal Spring, and who themselves were just chasing a better way of life, however temporary that indulgence might be. The only difference was that this group was privileged enough to be in a position, whether through education, skill, sheer hard work or just plain luck, to be able to afford to travel. At the end of the day, we all wanted the same thing: to feel like what we bring, what we do, how we live, is a net positive to ourselves and those around us. Nobody wants to feel unwelcome in a place that brings them joy. And whilst the vast majority of interactions in cities that attract tourists and travellers are positive, there is always going to be the feeling that visitors stay for the good times and move on with the mood. Indeed, even in an idyllic setting, not everything can be rose-tinted and carefree. We have to remember that the curated snapshots we see are a highlight reel, and that, as with every city, if you wander off the beaten path, the scenes can be quite different. In Medellín, for example, the invasion zones have sprung up in the hills surrounding the city. Million-dollar views seen from thousand-peso shacks, illegally built on rugged land and cobbled together from rubbish and rubble. Here reside those displaced either from other areas of Colombia (and even Venezuela), or who had been pushed from the lower stratas of the city out to the impoverished fringes. Neatly tucked away from the view of visitors, but with a perfect vantage point to see exactly what they were missing out on, of what they were priced out of. Other signs of the economic divide are more easy to spot; rough sleepers and street dogs, begging children and working girls. Even Comuna 13, popular for walking tours that showcase the vibrant graffiti daubed throughout a dynamic but once-destitute neighbourhood, cannot escape its violent past: It’s now a championed example of how far Medellín has come from its darkest days.  But so much more can be done. More than can be explained in one post.  More than can be shown in one city.  More than can be achieved by one donation. That’s how DNfG was born: a realisation that somewhere amongst the highlights of my holiday, at the end of my workation, there are people just trying