I finally had an afternoon free to volunteer for the
L.I.F.E.. non-profit! I wrote about delivering solar lights to this group about a month ago for families who don't have consistent access to electricity. L.I.F.E. is a Buenos Aires based non-profit that was founded in 2001, in the wake of Argentina's last financial collapse. During this time the country was devasted, and nearly half the country, people from all social classes, walks of life, and backgrounds lost their jobs, or their savings, or both. Riots and looting ensued and amidst this chaos and economic upheaval L.I.F.E. was born.
L.I.F.E. stands for "Luchemos para una Infancia Feliz y con Esperanza", which in English translates to "We fight for a happy childhood with hope." While they work a lot with impoverished communities in northern Argentina, L.I.F.E. also works with the impoverished communities within Buenos Aires as well. The work is primarily focused on children and can be likened to an after school program for children with few or no activities to keep them occupied after school.
The neighborhoods in which L.I.F.E. operates are known as the "villas", the vast build up of makeshift homes and dirt roads that are the slums of the city, and last Tuesday was my first experience entering one of these villas, known as "Ciudad Oculta", or "Hidden City."
What is important to keep in mind when thinking of the villas is that they are not officially part of the city. They were built in areas not designated by the city, and the city has since expanded and enveloped them, yet hasn't taken them into the fold. Therefore the people in the villas on the whole live an alien and marginalized existence. The police rarely enter the villas, ambulances cannot enter but must wait outside, and city offers no services in the form of electricity, running water, or gas. All of these services must be acquired illegally by the people living in the villa.
In the government's eyes the villas do not exist, and the people have no right to live in them, there are no official streets and no maps for if you get lost, therefore it was crucial that everyone stayed with the group.
Yet it was still surprising for me when our van pulled up outside the villa and it was literally as though you were leaving one world and entering another. The city streets are all paved and maintained, however we reached a point where the city streets just ended, and a makeshift and narrow dirt road began, surrounded by brick and cement houses. Five of us got out of the van. I grabbed one of the activity boxes while someone else grabbed a soccer ball and we headed toward the entrance to the villa. Meanwhile the van pulled away, carrying the others to a different section of the villa.
The comidor (a dinner house) was only about 400 meters inside the villa so we didn't need to walk far. While walking one could observe the shoddy construction of many of the buildings, most of which were open air, lacking the glass for the windows. The stairways are also all outside the houses, which all seem to tilt inward ominously towards the road. As we neared the comidor we passed a huge bone in the road. It looked to be the leg bone of a cow perhaps, although I couldn't be certain.
We reached the comidor, knocked, and waited. We had to wait outside for perhaps five minutes so they could clean up a bit inside. The building itself was like most other buildings in the villa, a tin door, cement siding, metal fencing over the windows, and the usual graffiti scrawled across the walls.
An older woman with black hair and indigenous features opened the door for us and welcomed us in. We then set out to prepare the games and activities for when the kids arrived. Usually they arrive at about 4:30 and we work with them for two hours. However most children didn't arrive until well past 5 o'clock. We thus had very little to do until about 5:30 or 6, when finally a slew of children showed up and we were sufficiently overwhelmed for the next hour. I found a place at the table we had set up before hand and I played and taught some of the children chess, while at the same time reading a book to another, and watching to make sure the other children were behaving.
One boy came and sat on my lap. He seemed to be about 3 years old, but his heft and burly build suggested he was probably not eating a very healthy diet. I vividly recall how bloody mucus would occasionally run from his nose and we would call the mother over who would have him blow into a tissue. This boy had all the same needs and desires as other little children, he enoyed reading the books, tried his hand at drawing, and got angry very quickly when I didn't let him use all the colored pencils at one time. Yet for me this is when the reality really sank in. These people were living with no medical or social support, and their ability to make informed decisions for themselves has always been limited to their environment.
We often speak of a "glass ceiling", but in the villas there is a true example of a concrete ceiling. The people know no other life than in the villa, and no one, not even the government, pretends at offering them something more. When I did my orientation with L.I.F.E., the guy (bless his heart I forgot his name!) explaining how the organization works also explained that the only experience the people living in the villa expect is that of the villa. They do not expect anything more, as generation after generation are born, grow up, and die in the villa. For them it is a fact of life of which few can, or expect to, escape.
Hopefully I can volunteer again next Tuesday. While it may not make a big difference in my life, I know from experience that having positive older role models has a huge positive impact on a child, the decisions they make, and who they choose to become.
For more info on L.I.F.E. and how you can volunteer or help out please go to the link below.
Cheers,
Kyle
