En Busca de Tesoros en el Basurero [Looking for Treasures in the Dump]

Casa del Alfarero (Potter's House) is an organization on the outskirts of the Guatemala City garbage dump, the largest garbage dump in Central America. 11,000 people depend on the

dump for survival in one way or another. Every day, people scavenge in the dump looking for recyclables or other valuables they can sell to make the equivalent of 2-5 US dollars each day. They line up behind the huge yellow garbage trucks, men first then woman, and search for whatever was leftover by the garbage truck driver and his helper because they get first pick. When Casa del Alfarero (Potter's House) first started working with the children here they asked the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up. They would say they wanted to be a garbage truck driver - because to them they was as far as they could see, that was as good as it gets.

When the dump is covered over with dirt and the trucks start carting garbage to the next area, squatters come to settle on that land. Those with no other option clear a spot and build a shack with wood and pieces of aluminum - single mothers with children, lonely men, and whole families. If they are fortunate, they have the opportunity to build a home with concrete blocks.

When you enter zone 3 of Guatemala city, you can begin to smell the dump. Every morning, when I arrive at Casa del Alfarero a pungent smell attacks me when I open the car door. The people who live here live with that smell. They don't leave at the end of the day to go back to a cozy apartment, take a shower, eat a full meal, watch a movie, then snuggle into bed. Instead, they wash their clothes in buckets and hang them in the street on lines strung from poles. They cook food on a concrete fire-burning stove or an old electric stove. They chase mangy dogs away from stands selling fruit, vegetables and meat - all setting out in the open air attracting flies. The communities right outside the dump are cities within themselves. Entrepreneurs start businesses trying to make a living. On every street corner, woman make tortillas and families run tiendas.

Coming to a place like this every day takes a toll. On the way to the houses, we pass men lying on the side of the road either too high or drunk to get up, with eyes barely open and

rolling back into their sockets. Dogs fight in the street while dirty-faced kids play soccer and everyone dodges pickups filled with people and recyclables.

Sometimes the contrast is shocking. Women and little girls wear their best clothes, but they get mud and trash stuck to the bottoms of their platform heels. Kids in school uniforms fill the narrow streets and alleys twice a day either coming from or going to school. Sellers carrying baskets of old doughnuts or other food yell down the road. The banana car makes its rounds. "Bananos cinco por una bolsa!!" blares out of the loudspeaker.

I have spent the last three and a half weeks in a place that would take a year to describe. Every day I was there seemed like a week. I thought I experienced real life when I went to inner city Atlanta on a mission trip. I thought I understood more every time I went down to Indianapolis to talk to homeless people, but this is real life. This place and these people were not part of my reality before. If this is life for people then it should be part of my life too. If this is reality for them, it should be part of my reality too. I should never go another day without thinking about them and their life. I should not go another day without thinking about this reality...asking God what He wants to do about it -- what He wants me to do about it.