New friends I met at the garbage dump ministry.
“You should grab a jacket because it’s a bit chilly at the dump.”
That’s what one of my teammates told me before we left the house on Saturday. So I threw on my only long sleeve shirt and changed out of my dirty work shorts into slightly less dirty pants. We piled into a convi, a small van that’s converted into a mini-bus…about 20 people in a mid-size vehicle is an adventure on it’s own.
We wound through the city streets and eventually got to the outskirts. The smell of garbage rose, as did the piles of waste. We passed a building with extremely high walls topped with barbed wire.
“That’s the prison,” said Annie, an intern with Inca Link. “Most people have never travelled this far out of town and don’t know that people live out here.”
People live at the garbage dump. It’s also where they work.
We entered into a clearing that was lined with little shanties and huts. Home, that’s what many people call this place. As the convi came to a stop, a small herd of kids ran to greet us. The gringos had arrived.
After the typical meet and greet, we walked around for a bit. Many took out their cameras and took off, snapping photos of this different world. But I couldn’t. My teammates were being respectful, but I couldn’t get over thinking how I would feel if a bunch of foreigners came into my workplace and started taking pictures of me working.
I went up to say hello to two ladies that were standing in a pile of trash. As I got closer, the rank smell of rotten food mixed with feces increased. Flies swarmed my body.
“Hola. Soy Emilia. Y ustedes?”
As we carried on a very basic conversation, I noticed the pile of trash we were standing on was very organized. Plastic bottles on a pile, glass in another. Recyclables are the breadwinners. I asked Sarah how much she could sell the recyclables for.
“Un sol cada kilo.” One sol for each kilogram. About 33 cents for a lot of bottles. I didn’t even want to ask how much she made each day. I’m sure it’s not much. Maybe a couple of bucks. Enough to buy food for her family. Maybe.
Our conversation came to a stop. I didn’t know what else to say. The “dirty” clothes I had on were nicer than the ones they were wearing. I couldn’t relate to them at all. Our lives were completely different. And then Sarah asked me the age-old question (no pun intended):
“Cuantos anos tiene?” How old are you?
“Veinte-cinco. 25.
“Tiene hijos?” Do you have any kids?
No. Tu?” No, you?
“Si, tengo dos hijos. Mi mama esta con ellos y mi esposo y yo trabajan.” Yes, I have two kids but my mom watches them so my husband and I can work. “Ud. es soltera?” Are you single (un-married)?
“Si.”
(Insert deer in headlights look here)
It’s the same wherever I go. In this culture, you marry young and start a family. Most people are married by 18 and start a family by 20…if not sooner. So, there is clearly something wrong with me because I’m real old and don’t have a family.
After talking with Sarah for a bit more, I found out she had lived at the dump her whole life. She was born there. She works there. She met her husband there. She had kids there. She’ll probably die there.
The cemetary at the garbage dump.
I was somewhat relieved when my teammates hollered my name and told me it was time to start our program. I said goodbye and tromped off to a small hut that was filled with 25 kids from the dump. I led some songs and we performed David and Goliath. We asked them questions about the story and then just spent time playing games and giving them attention…something that is hard to come by in this environment.
And then, it was time.
Time to celebrate all the birthdays in the month of August. To kids in the dump, this is a big deal. It means they are treated to piece of angel food cake with a small dot of chocolate sauce on the top. And a small glass of Coca-Cola. Delicious. Most inhale this sweet treat but a few save half and walk back to their homes to share with their family.
The small hut we did a children's program in at the dump. Here the kids are getting their birthday treat for the month of August.
Wow. A different world. A world many are born into and never have the means to leave.
Praise the Lord for the women from the local church who come faithfully each week to put on these programs. These children are learning about God’s love for them because there was a need and someone decided to fill it. Through Bible lessons and lots of love, another generation is being raised up to love the Lord, no matter their circumstances.
I’m glad I get to be a small part of it this month.
