Day 3: Heartbreak Day, part 2 (the dump)

Thursday, June 11, 2015 (afternoon)

After the hospital, everyone went to the Fort and had sandwiches for lunch, then had a brief historical tour. A balm to our soul was the view of the ocean and the salty breezes. We snapped lots of pictures before heading to the dump.

Also, Paul took a few of us in search of a place to get copies of the book for VBS, but we couldn't find anywhere. We will find an alternative, it isn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.

The dump
So, in case you didn't know, people actually live at the dump. The piles of smelly garbage are what they call home. They scrounge and find what people throw away to get by. People like us used to go in there to help, but the government now forbids this. Just down the road is a fancy resort and international media did an exposé of people living in the dump, so the government made them move across the street. There still are people who live in the dump though, but no one else is allowed in.

Across the street is basically a treeless, gravel expanse with some large machinery belonging to the dump. It is extremely sunny and hot with no shade, except near the equipment when not in use. There is sort of a shantytown off to the side where everyone actually lives.

View of the housing area from the Daihatsu

This year it was a little different because this area is now private property. It is gated off, but whoever bought it still allows the people to live there and lets us come in too.  Now there is a gas station immediately next door to the gravel area, gated off as you would imagine.

I couldn't possibly imagine why someone would put a gas station there. How much business could you get on this stretch of road, next door to people living in the most desperate of conditions, and who could stand to be reminded daily of their misery? And then Jeff and a few of the guys talked with the owner of the gas station. We pulled over there just before we left, and he became choked up, thanking us for what we were doing for the people there. I am pretty sure I can guess who bought this land and why. Now no one can kick these people off of their land. It may be desolate and scant, but it is their home. I don't know if that's really why or if that man is responsible for protecting them, but it's what I choose to believe.

Here is video of the kids coming.

After we arrived, we quickly piled out of the Daihatsu to play with the kids. We were all surrounded and treated like celebrities. Everyone had several kids grab them, want shoulder rides, to be held, to play, to have attention.

This is Anai (pronounced: On Ah EE) and she grabbed me right away. She ran around holding my hand and showing me off to everyone. She was jealous whenever I tried to pick up or give attention to any other kids.

 Here is some video of us playing with the kids. Here's another. A number of us girls painted the little girls' nails. Some of them would scratch or wipe it off so they could come and get some more. They said over and over "préstamelo" (lend it to me), but we didn't have enough for everyone so it would create divisions among them. We couldn't let them hold it.

After we had played for a while (45 minutes??), with the help of Wanda, one of the ladies who lives at the dump and who has become our helper, we circled the kids up to sing a few songs. She wanted me to start and lead a few, so we sang Cristo me ama (Jesus loves me), Tengo paz como el rio (I've got peace like a river) and El amor de Dios es maravilloso (God's love is wonderful). She led a few we didn't know but caught onto, like Alabaré a mi Señor (I will praise my Lord). 

Then, the kids all lined up for the care packages we made for them (ziploc with toothpaste, toothbrush, bar soap, granola bar, comb/brush), which just seemed so horribly inadequate. They also got kool-aid and a snack. The adults came next and they got rice and beans (dried). We had to line everyone up and form a line of us to guide them along to the other side once they had gone through the line, making sure no one came through twice. I know I had to sweet talk a young man (early 20s?) who was attempting to get back in line to gently send him back without causing an incident. I also had to be a little more firm in trying to stop an old lady who was doing the same thing. Many either tried to shove the rice and beans in their clothes to slip back in line unnoticed or to drop it off somewhere/to someone and get back in line. 

It is heart breaking because you understand how desperate, how hungry, how in need they are, but have to enforce rules otherwise chaos breaks out and it is fair to no one. Survival is an ugly thing. You do it at the expense of those around you. There are a limited number of resources and each one thinks, "I need that." And they each do. So when you manage to survive, to acquire resources, you know it is at the expense of someone else. At times there was even a glory in it, a satisfaction in having what others didn't. The kids used us in a way as status. I felt like I was Anai's prize- she ran around showing me to everyone and I was hers. She didn't know anything about me but I was someone to call hers. To make her feel special. I was willing to be hers just so she had somebody, just for a while, to love her for a moment. 

One may hope that this is a temporary situation, living in this place for a little while, but since we had been before, we were not afforded the luxury of that illusion. It is so overwhelming seeing so many kids and people all around you, vying for your attention, but even in those circumstances, I recognized a few from last time. 

This little girl with a shriveled arm was there 2 years ago when we were here. She is so thin too.

I think the girl in front is the same as the girl in plaid above

This kid is absolutely adorable, which is why he stuck out in my mind.

Here's a picture of him from 2 years ago. What a ham!

It was too much for us at the time to think that these kids, precious children of God, were living in the dump, where things nobody wants are thrown. What kind of education are they getting? What chances do they have of improving their situation? What are they learning about life? Do they have hope? Do they know Jesus loves them? Can they possibly believe it?

Maybe it's better we couldn't wrap our minds around it. We musn't come and be miserable, crying for them and their future. They needed us to just pick them up and play with them, for us to laugh with them for just a little while. To take pictures of them with our cameras, to immortalize them in a photo, to provide a record of their existence. They needed us to be Jesus to them, no questions, no accusations, no qualifications, just loving them where they were, who they were.

Our care packages are no doubt long since used up. The rice and beans are eaten. They likely have forgotten the love we gave them so briefly. They are hungry again, lonely again. But we remember them. Lord Jesus, let us never forget.