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The Poverty
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Esmeraldas is
a city of about 300,000 people on the northern coast of Ecuador where
the majority of the African descendants are settled. In general, it is
an inhospitable place, as another American volunteer we met here put
it. There was little organized infrastructure, poor schools, poor
health care, poor education, poor housing, and a lack of education
about birth control and other important life planning skills.
Residuals of an enslaved life (lack of ownership, forced ignorance,
etc.) left from generations ago as well. Violence is part of the
culture, as Esmeraldas is one of the most dangerous cities in Ecuador.
While there, we didn’t walk around at night and were very cautious
during the day. We stayed at a hotel where there was an armed guard
with a shot gun and felt a bit more secure.
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While working in the office, we learned of a
tragic story of violence about one of the Habitat families who just
received a home last year. While we were volunteering in the office, a
older African-American man was there talking earnestly with Dagoberto, the
program coordinator. I noticed that he seemed anxious, and I was curious
about the cause of his physical impairment, a glassy eye and numb face on
one side. After he left, I asked more about him, and learned that he had
shot and killed his wife over a love affair and then unsuccessfully
attempted to shoot himself in the head. Now he struggles with physical
pain and impaired sight from the bullet that is still lodged in that side
of his brain. And of course, the emotional pain and guilt of murdering his
wife and having to continue supporting their 6 children.
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He also was
in prison for 6 months (why only 6 months, I’ll never venture to
understand), and during this time was obviously unable to make the
house payments to Habitat. He was looking for work, but was limited
now in what he could do, due to his impaired vision. He came to the
office to give them the status of his situation because he was aware
that Habitat could not let him hold off on making payments for much
longer. His major concern at that time was deciding whether to have
the bullet removed which could have been fatal or leaving it there and
taking medication that he cannot afford. Such a human tragedy. Very
reflective of the community. People downtrodden, heartbroken and
driven to senseless crimes of passion. |
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I was a little
nervous to be around him, but the Habitat staff seemed at ease. Maria,
the accountant who I was assisting, said that she could see why
someone just seeing him on the street would be scared of him, but they
know him well enough not to be afraid. He did shake my hand in
greeting twice and seemed harmless enough. Sure would hate to be the
one to have to tell him that he cannot live in the Habitat house if he
continues to miss payments…I am glad, however, that Habitat was still
trying to work with him and his children despite the horror of his
crime. |
The Beauty
When onsite,
we tried to include the neighborhood children as much as possible,
although the construction supervisor appeared to be more annoyed by them.
The children were truly poor in so many ways. They had little to do
outside of school hours, and were so needy for attention. They hovered
with timid curiosity about these two strange sun-burned and sweaty
gringos.
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Observing
their boredom, I took magic markers and paper for them to color with,
a bit of art therapy. Despite the dismal environment that I naively
perceived and to my surprise, they drew simple figures of families
together complete with smiling faces, arms, legs and belly buttons.
Can’t forget the belly buttons since most of them were hanging out due
to the general lack of clothing! Very keen observation on Angie’s
part! Interestingly, I
also noticed that Angie, kept redrawing and increasing the size of her
house because she just couldn’t fit all five of her family members in the
space. |
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This change was partially needed due to her typical oversized four-year
old figures, but I thought it also was an accurate depiction of how
inadequately small her little house truly is, a small one-room bamboo
shack.
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Angie’s older brother, sweet Javier drew imaginative scenes with houses
set among green trees, flowers, and ponds with ducks, beautiful snails,
birds and butterflies – such detail. And the houses he drew always had
more than one floor. A luxury beyond their comprehension, a house with
“dos pisos!” They asked, “A donde tu viven, las casas tienen dos pisos? (Where
you live, do the houses have two floors?”) And without thinking, I
answered “Si, es comun ("Yes, it’s common”). They paused and seemed to
take this in with interest while I thought to myself how much we have and
how much we take for granted. |
My art therapy lesson….They draw what they see and a world, unfortunately,
that they can only dream about.
There were lots of little naked baby hineys around, lots with runny noses.
Most all of the children wore dirty, tattered clothing and were sick with
infections of one kind or another. They played in piles of dirt and
breathed in constant trails of dust and fumes left by public buses that
sped along the unpaved road every 20 minutes. During this season there was
no rain to subdue the heat or the dust. Only occasional clouds or overcast
days provided shade from the blazing direct sun. It was not a pleasant
playground – not a place to thrive and grow, but merely a place to live
through the monotony. But even in the midst of this misery, they laughed
and played.
Education around hygiene, cleanliness and general health was severely
lacking. Even the animals were miserable. Most of dogs were visibly
hungry, mangy and had bald spots or sores in the places where they have
scratched themselves incessantly from pestering fleas. By the end of our
work days, I tired of hearing crying babies and whimpering animals, and
began to feel judgmental and angry toward these people for their poverty
and their ignorance. It became too much for my heart to take, and I wanted
to blame them for being the way they were. But then the social worker in
me kicked in a reminder that they are humans who, like us, do what they
know and or what they can bear.
Our time in Esmeraldas was outside of our comfort zone to say the least,
but it was the Habitat experience where we learned the most about poverty
and the toll it takes on the human spirit..
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