"Recycling"

Recently I asked a Peruvian if there was any recycling in Peru. She gave me a weird look and said some people went to the garbage dumps to pick up pieces of glass or metal to "recycle". I remember one of the street kids I met in Lima a few years ago had spent much of his childhood doing this.

Saw this article in a recent edition of El Comercio, Peru's leading newspaper. I've translated it, not very well; you can find the original article at this link. Be warned, the content is disturbing.

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With the future on your back

NO To Child Labor. It is thought that all the children who work do it because they have no other choice or because they are forced to. Unfortunately, there are cases in which the child is employed because he thinks it will benefit him. It is difficult to convince them otherwise.

by Ricardo León

Franz. The dilemma is enormous and the dirt comes up to his ankles: he opens his hand and ponders for a second whether this string can serve to hold his sack and allow him to take it to his house without scattering everything inside. However it can also be cut in two equal parts and used as fasteners, and so avoid the risk of falling down with the sack and everything in it because of walking with too-loose shoes. The little boy evades the question and decides to keep the string in his pocket - later he’ll see what to do with it - because he spots a piece of cardboard approximately two or three meters away. From talking so much with Erick and Óscar, he almost did not realize there was a box hidden between a rug, a sandal and a little dirt. He jumps suddenly, grabs the box and announces his find. A find that subjectively smells like victory, and objectively like accumulated garbage. Asking an 8-year-old child like Franz about the time he’s spent recycling garbage is nonsense; he’s so small that he doesn’t know if he began a few months ago or more than a year ago. He evades the question and again takes a tangent explaining whom, instead of when: "My mom taught me. She was recycling before and took me along and I learned." And how much, instead of how: "Of the 3 soles ($1) that I get I give 2.50 to my mom so that she cooks." And what for, instead of why: "With my 50 centimos (15 cents) I bought noodles and potato at school." In the end, he gives the string to Erick and the matter is settled.

Erick. The 50 kilo sack leaves him feeling small. He’s already pushed, dragged, and pressed it with his feet. Nothing. One more push, just in case; with that he’s able to tie it and carry it. How strange, it seemed like it would be a bad day. In this area, in the Hills of Carabayllo, there are always garbage dumps in view (or in smell). Today’s smell seemed to promise a mediocre task, but it was only a question of removing the dirt. An optimist would say than behind every pile you could find your lunch money. Erick is 11 years old, so he is not guided by optimism but by instinct. The same instinct that he says to him (loudly) that he should use gloves to protect his hands while searching in the garbage: "Yes, I already know, but gloves are costly." Instinct that he says to him (softly) that at his age he should not be working: "Yes, I already know, but it’s to be able to eat." The same instinct makes him take care not to gather, for example, needles or glass. And perhaps the same instinct leads him to take this work as an entertainment. One waits to hear a complaint of his, but there are no complaints. One waits for a lamentation and there are no laments. One imagines a discomfort and there is no discomfort. One would never imagine even a remote happiness, but today Erick is satisfied. That hurts more. The string that belonged to Franz and later Erick is now Óscar’s. His sack is the heaviest.

Óscar. He can’t carry it, it slips between his hands. He’s obstinate: he loads it again and it slips again. Guffaws. The most probable thing is that he'll have to hide the sack and go no further, running to his house and asking someone to help carry it and return rapidly before someone steals it. Once again: he picks it up and it falls down. Guffaws, again. I hope later he will remember to wash his hands because a few days ago he cut his little finger with a tin can and the wound must be absolutely infected: "When I did it I washed myself with water and alcohol." And I hope he will remember to return more or less wrapped up because he has a wet nose and must have a cold. His dad taught him the trade of recycling from the most basic: this is glass, this is paper, this one is plastic, those over there are iron, there is copper. The routine of gathering the materials and taking them to his house and squashing them with a hammer until they’re flat and tying them, hoping that his father will sell them and that he'll get one sol (30 cents) and give half to his mother, ending after a few hours in a fully deserved bag of Cheetohs. Who would mind working several hours each weekend in a hill of garbage if as an award there’s a bag of Cheetohs? That's why Óscar finds laughter contagious and makes fun of his own vain efforts to load an enormous bag of recyclable garbage. From afar one sees three children in a situation of dramatic suffering for having to put themselves in piles of garbage and gather a few materials that can be recycled like a needle in a haystack. From close up, however, one sees three children playing and almost amusing themselves with what they find. The strangest part of this story is that the three children feel good about what they are doing. Because they feel that they are helping their families, or because they are attracted by the idea of finding curious objects. Or because they don't know any better. Because of the wound on his little finger Óscar has problems tying the sack with the string. Franz helps.

Franz, Erick and Óscar. If these three children kept on working every day, as they were till not long ago, they might have suffered from dermatitis, damage to the bronchial tubes, infections of all kinds and sizes, problems in the spine. And they would have neglected going to school. Now at least they go to school from Monday through Friday and only work the weekends. Soon, who knows, they could dedicate their weekends to playing and their life will return to normal. Erick, for example, was for a while waking up at 4 a.m., taking a lantern and going to look for recyclables in the garbage. He returned to his house at 6 a.m., washed himself and walked to school; left school, ate something and returned to the garbage dump to continue looking. It even seems that he was feeling proud of himself because he cried bitterly when he left school and saw that his mom was not there to sign the authorization so that they could interview and photograph him (later she signed it); in the end, with eyes red, he showed us how he works, he smiled for some photos, and answered some questions. And Óscar could not believe that his sack had so much garbage inside; at least two bags of Cheetohs this week. And Franz had the luck to find, in the middle of the garbage dump, a book with the complete multiplication tables. He only knew up to the nines. He also found a string that was passed from hand in hand, the whole afternoon.

The quandary of a cultural problem

One of the initiatives that leads the fierce struggle against child labor is Pro Niño, a program of the Telefonica Foundation in coordination with the Faith and Happiness Association and the Center of Social Studies and Publications (Cesip). There are 330 beneficiary children like Franz, Erick and Óscar at the same school (Manuel Scorza, in Hills of Carabayllo). Working with them includes constant conversations with the teachers and parents so that the working child gradually leaves behind the activities he’s been doing. Often times, in these cases, the work of the children is a cultural problem: the parents think that the child will become more responsible if he works from a young age, and the child thinks that he will be a successful adult for working so early. Neither one thinks that what the child must do, in any case, is go to school first.