 "Photo: Ben Fitch")
 "Photo: Ben Fitch")
 "Photo: Ben Fitch")
La Chureca is a larger-than-life trash dump in the northwestern corner of Managua that stretches over four square miles—making it the largest open-air garbage dump in Central America.
Because the trash is not buried, the internal density causes combustion and smolders throughout the day. On a still day, like the one that we visited La Chureca, it is impossible to see the horizon because of the smog. Approximately 1,000 people, half of whom are children, sort through the refuse, daily, in search of something to sell. There are 115-180 families that live in the garbage.
Los Quinchos is a program developed to feed and shelter the children of La Chureca. We visited the Los Quinchos program in San Marcos—a commune that houses kids who have lived in the dump. We bought a soccer ball at a local tienda to give to the children and took it with us to San Marcos. The kids picked it up immediately and we split up into teams—only to be severely out-matched by a group of pre-pubescent boys. It was still one of the highlights of the entire trip.
We did not walk into the dump. We drove for fear of being accosted at the gate. There is a large community of inhalant-addicts in La Chureca, and they were visible immediately—sniffing glue from Gerber jars—as we entered. Los Quinchos has installed a shelter at the dump where the children can go for schooling and food. The kids were not shy or apprehensive about meeting us. There was, however, a brief dispute about whom the soccer ball belonged to, but we clarified that the ball was not to leave the shelter so that all the children would be able to play with it. And they loved our cameras.
I gave my camera to one boy and said, “you are the only one allowed to use my camera, so don’t give it to anyone else.”
And he went around taking pictures of everything. At one point, he ran outside the gate and I followed in a panic—thinking my camera was gone forever. When I caught up to him, he was only taking pictures of the vast wasteland that he lived in—mountains of trash, green foamy water filled with discarded tires, thick smog, dead dogs and cardboard shanties. He gave me back my camera; satisfied with the photos he had taken of his home.
While staying at the Quaker House, I met an Alaskan fisherman named Bill. The children at the dump call him Memo, which is what he prefers. During the off-season, Bill travels to Nicaragua for his “other job.” He goes to the dump as a clown, rides a unicycle and juggles for the children. As he explained, when Bill enters through the gate, he is not bothered because he carries laughter as his most effective defense.
“No one wants to hurt the clown,” he said.
I told Bill that I would be writing a journal series about my travels in Nicaragua and that I planned to talk about La Chureca, specifically the children, who are the only beacon amongst the smog, stench and anguish. Bill said there were many journalists who have visited La Chureca, hoping to capture readers with sad stories and uplifting ideals of hope amidst the turmoil of squalor and destitution. He told me they often go with their cameras—snapping pictures of people inside their cardboard shelters or as they sift through the garbage. Bill said it was probably humiliating for the people. This was foremost in my mind for the rest of the trip.
Indeed, these children constantly breathe toxic fumes. They swim in contaminated water and sift through filth daily, but they are still living out their youth. They laugh and play as children, and it was apparent that no hardship was great enough to destroy their innocence. Many individuals with our group were deeply touched by what they witnessed. And yes, the small amount of time we spent in La Chureca certainly had the most impact on me, but it was not what I would have expected.
In conclusion, I was not inspired to change the world, feed the hungry or house the homeless to ends beyond my means. This is unrealistic. Instead, I gained a new perspective of what is truly important to me. Nicaraguan life is simpler, and the lives of those who stay in La Chureca, for example, are hindered by harsh reality, but not completely void of happiness. For those who wish to make a difference in the world, you need not search beyond your means. The difficulties experienced by people around the world does not require our apathy or pity, but only understanding of the impact we make as humans and how we relate to those with whom we have the least in common.
I thank the people I traveled with, and those we met in Nicaragua. Without my companions, I would not have made it an hour, and for that reason, they were my family for two weeks. Even if our paths do not cross again, I wish you all the best, and I will never forget the time we spent together.
Nicaragua…presente!
Be the first to comment on this article!