Sunlight pours into the patios of a three-story colonial house in Quito’s historic centre. Long ago, these same hallways were once walked by Eugenio and Manuela Espejo, siblings remembered as early heroes of Ecuador’s independence. The walls hold echoes of conversations that shaped a nation and the worn floors still carry the marks of its past. Today, however, the house is quiet. The only sound is the soft mewing of kittens, brought in by a migrant who now calls this place home.

After the Espejo siblings passed away, Francisco Bucheli’s great-great-grandmother bought the property. She raised her children there and watched her grandchildren play in its corridors. Over the decades, the building passed from one generation to the next, its roof ageing and its doors beginning to creak. The house remains in the family to this day, but its purpose is different. Now, Francisco and his family are writing a new chapter, turning the house into a refuge and a place for new beginnings.

Moisés Gonzáles, a Venezuelan migrant, lives in the house with his family and pets. Photo: IOM 2025/Astrid Paz

Among those living this new chapter is Moisés. He hasn’t left for work yet. This morning, he’s in his apartment with his sister, nephew, and cats. The meowing comes from the space they rent from Francisco in this heritage home, standing here since 1651.

Neither Moisés nor the other residents seem fully aware of the building’s historical significance. What matters most to them is far more immediate and human: having a place to call home. It is space for their children to run, play, and grow – a world away from the cramped rooms they first stayed in after arriving in Ecuador.

“We stayed with a friend of my sister’s,” says 27-year-old Moisés, who left Venezuela in search of a better life for his son. “You always feel like you’re in the way. That first year was hard.” Once he started working as a delivery driver, the family moved again. “It was really small,” he recalls, “but the landlord let us pay in instalments, which was a big relief.”

The difference between that place and where they live now is more than just square meters – it’s about peace of mind. “I feel calm here,” he says. “And when you have a family, that’s what matters most.”

Sermary and her husband are grateful to have a place where their two children can live with dignity. Photo: IOM 2025/Astrid Paz

Upstairs, on the third floor, live Karen and Abdel, friends of Moisés’ son. Their family has lived in the house the longest, six years since they arrived from Venezuela. Their mother, Sermary, tears up when talking about their journey. “Losing everything and starting over isn’t easy. But God has blessed us,” she says.

She’s grateful, not just for having a roof over their heads but for a landlord like Francisco and the community around them. Among their neighbours is Katherine, who lives just across from Moisés with her two children, her infant granddaughter, and a cat. They too came from Venezuela, hoping to build a better life.

They’ve been in the house for three months now. “It’s hard to find someone who’ll rent to you when you’re a foreigner,” Katherine explains. “But thanks to some Ecuadorian friends, we managed to find this place.”

For many migrants in Ecuador, safe and dignified housing is one of the first and most urgent needs. Most rely on rentals, but finding a space that’s adequate, welcoming, and affordable is no easy task.

Landlord Francisco Bucheli believes that every migrant who has lived in the house has helped build a stronger, more connected community. Photo: IOM 2025/Astrid Paz

In response to the urgent need for safe and dignified housing for migrants, the International Organization for Migration (IOM) in Ecuador created the Landlords Network, a growing initiative now made up of more than 150 people, including Francisco.

“We have found real support in Francisco,” says Moisés. Sermary and Katherine echo the sentiment. “He’s a wonderful person. Living here has been a good experience,” adds Katherine. She now works as a cook. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve adapted. I even know how to make encebollado fish stew now,” she proudly declares.

The sense of integration in this small community is tangible, not just in the stories they share but in the calm that fills the house. Much of that calm comes from Francisco himself.

Long before joining the Landlords Network, Francisco was already renting to migrant families, many of whom came to him through word of mouth. It was through these relationships that he became part of the project. With IOM’s support, five of the house’s apartments were upgraded, and a communal space was created with a bathroom, kitchen, washing machines, and even a wood-fired oven.

Katherine feels at home in the house and the neighbourhood, with everything she needs close by, which she considers a privilege with a baby in the family. Photo: IOM 2025/Astrid Paz

Francisco doesn’t depend on rent to make a living. What he charges is modest, especially in the context of Ecuador’s minimum wage and housing market. His motivation is personal – he too was once a migrant.

“You never know when life might put you in the same situation,” he reflects. “And when someone reaches out a hand, that feeling stays with you.”

That’s why being part of the Landlords Network means more to him than a rental agreement. It allows him to offer rental subsidies to families who need them and to extend not just a place to live but a sense of belonging.

His generosity and empathy have made him much more than a landlord. For the families here, he is a neighbour, a friend, and someone who helps lighten the weight of starting over.

“It’s not about how much you have, it’s about your willingness to give,” he says. “There are families who arrive with their whole lives packed into a single suitcase. That’s why giving can make all the difference.”

This story was written by Daniela Mejía, Media and Communications Assistant with IOM Ecuador.