Whining for water
He knocks on the metal door of the house usually around 2:00 in the afternoon, blue ball cap low over his eyes, blue tool bag over his shoulder, covered in dust and sweat. It is always hot here, and when the sun is not behind the clouds, you can’t help but notice that it’s closer to the earth here than in the rest of the world. If there’s no water in the refrigerator Manuel whines; if I close my eyes it is the voice of a child, I’m reminded of the hurt child trapped inside each of us. His voice is always loud, whether whining or simply talking to his family. They protest the noise. His wife Ceci says, “I’m not deaf,” the kids, “Pa, we’re right here.” He does not hear, keeps yelling.

(click the photo to see more:)


Manuel repairs appliances, and every day he leaves the house to walk the rocky unpaved streets looking for work. “Work doesn’t come to you, you have to go find it,” he tells me. According to surveys done by Mi Cometa, Manuel is not unusual. The average monthly income of 67.7% of families in Guasmo is $100, and almost half of the working population is unemployed. I don’t know what Manuel’s monthly income would be, but I would guess it’s in line with those figures.

Most days recently he has found no work, and so arrives at the door whining for water and sits at the table where Ceci serves him his lunch. Sometimes instead he sits on a wooden chair in front of the television with his plate, watching and at times talking to the television while his 3 kids, Ceci and I eat at the table. Or he sits in his bed, in front of the other television in the house. When he is home the TV is always on. When he is not home it is usually on too, as the kids watch TV virtually all the time.



There’s not a lot to do in Guasmo Sur. It is a neighborhood of dirt roads, some of which are lined by canals of sewage, also filled with trash, plants and unbelievably, fish. Little tiendas (stores) are often connected to the houses which line up, walls of cinder block next to cane next to cement, row after row, street after street. My house has a heavy metal door and bars over the windows, other houses have wooden doors and windows that lock shut. There are a few cement soccer fields nearby, but one is usually flooded with sewage water, and the other in a park not considered safe at night. A few houses have video game machines on their front porches, and as I walk by the one across the street from Mi Cometa, “Hello, gringa”s follow in my wake.

Approximately 425,000 people live in Guasmo Sur, which is part of the neighborhood that sprang up 20 years ago as poor people from other parts of the country migrated here, a trend typical of urbanization globally. The neighborhood lacks clean water and a sewage system, and El Guasmo is often ignored by government authorities and non-profit organizations. The lack of attention is speculated to be due to the poor environmental conditions, the flooding that often occurs in the winter months (El Guasmo is actually part of the flood plane of the river Guayas), and the reputation for violence in the area.

Mi Cometa was born in this neighborhood when the adults involved in a mentorship program for neighborhood kids realized the potential of such action for the children. Fourteen years later, it is well known in the city, has a steady trickle of volunteers from various countries, and is in the news constantly. Its programs touch upon many aspects of life here, and are slowly expanding to reach more people. There are programs for family development, women’s empowerment and counseling, youth leadership, and there is a micro credit and exchange network. There is also an early childhood development program for kids 0-5 years old, a community safety and neighborhood watch program, health and housing program, a communication project which by the spring will include a community radio station.

The College of Leaders of New Millennium and the Children’s Congress are two more programs that grew somewhat from the program I’m coordinating. This program is called El Programa Animacion Infantil Comunitaria, the “Children’s Community Animation Program,” commonly referred to by its initials “PAIC.” It was one of the first projects of Mi Cometa, but was dormant for the past 6 years or so. It aims to raise the self esteem, teach leadership and critical thinking skills to the children who live in this neighborhood, teach them their rights, and empower them to transform themselves, their families, and their communities. Many of the leaders of Mi Cometa, like José Luis, were part of the early groups of children and youth in PAIC, and it is hoped that a new generation of leaders will be created from the reborn project.

All three of Manuel’s children are part of the group of youth leaders in PAIC. The weekends, when we have our meetings, they turn off the TV, the radio, and walk the block to Mi Cometa. I am there already, setting up chairs, talking to Jose about which ice-breaker we will use, greeting the youth with besitos and handshakes as they arrive. Isaac, Ana and Daniel inevitably arrive carrying some item I’ve forgotten, and we laugh and they take their seats. I see in each of them the imprint of Manuel, of Ceci. They are beautiful children, people, and in their dark eyes and easy laughter the day is brighter. I also see the wounds of their childhood being formed, and I hope they do not stay dormant to one day emerge in a listless posture facing the television with their backs to their family, whining for water.
- posted by little monk @ 3:04 PM