Throw Them in the Trash

The most popular prescription in our medical mission was for las seguridades (reassurance). Several of our patients were frequent fliers, meaning they stopped by daily to get a bit of this particular drug. Luby* was one such patient, emotionally exhausted over worry for her son with a suspected heart condition. She thrived on reassurance and hugs, as well as the attention she received when she fainted in the presence of a large crowd one evening (she was fine).

Another frequent flier was Lourdes*, a single mom of 4 in her mid-forties whose mother lived with her as well. She had been recently diagnosed with cancer and after a medical treatment for her malignancy had been advised to temporarily avoid her former place of employment, preferably forever. It was the only job Lourdes knew, and it was terrible work: she had been a waste picker. 

Wait, what? Yes, a waste picker.

Wasteland.

In Nicaragua (as well as many other poor countries), many seek work as human recyclers in the municipal dumps, massive and unsafe expanses of trash. They collect plastic and cardboard and sell them to large corporations to reuse. It is back-breaking and dangerous work, but an honest wage could make it worth it. However, there are no rights for these types of workers; companies can change the rates they pay on a whim and the waste pickers have no recourse because they are virtually invisible to the government. Within the last 6 months, wealthy, well-known corporations have halved the amounts they pay for a kilo of recycled materials, even though their profits have not fallen. Lourdes was paid $15 per week for her labor, and she was “successful.”

We went to the dump to see for ourselves, and while we were there the students fed the waste pickers and the medical personnel attended to people who looked like they needed help. 

Serving a meal to the workers.

Dr. Alex cleaning a tough hand wound Dr. Luis had cleaned out the day before when he visited.

One of the workers thanking us on behalf of the group for our kindness.

After the meal was served, the workers went back to the piles - truck after truck piled high with trash were rolling in - and our group went out to the wasteland to deliver masks and gloves shortly after.

It was sobering.

The emotions hit me worse than the stench of so much rotting refuse: los buitres (vultures). Vultures exist to live in this type of environment, but humans do not. These poor people were being treated worse than nature’s vultures, since these birds can eat what they find here but people cannot. Ironically, they were treated this way by people who prey on and exploit others - also called vultures...

The students were also shocked at what they saw but were deliberate and empathetic as they delivered masks and gloves to the workers. Seeing my own son among the group extend his hand in friendship and provide masks and gloves to others kept the tears flowing. I was proud of them all.

One special lady caught my attention - she was called abuelita (granny). She was about 80-years-old. Notice her feet:

She had been working in the dumps nearly her whole life, and her family had followed her. She knew nothing else. She and another woman went home with shoes that day.

We were all pretty somber as we rode away, reconsidering many, many things in our own lives. I was not alone in thinking these lovely, hardworking people were treated like trash as well.

*not their real names