I’d never even heard of paco before I arrived in Buenos Aires.

In fact, it was weeks after I’d begun volunteering as an English teacher in one of the villas (as the slums are called) before I received an introduction to this new and highly popular drug.

I was working at Conviven, a community center on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, right on the border of the Mataderos villa. My classes took place at a long wooden table in a home owned by an Argentine woman named Maria Rosa, and my students were mostly boys ages 12 to 19. I was hell-bent on getting beyond the glossy veneer of Buenos Aires, of tango and malbec and European architecture. I wanted to connect with my students, to become a part of this community.

What I seemed to have forgotten is that becoming part of a community, especially when you are an outsider, is hard work. Especially here at Conviven, where international volunteers come and stay for two months, six months, maybe even a year. They are here, and then they are gone.

It wasn’t until a friend of mine, who was visiting from the States, spent a few days in the villa with me that I began to learn a little more about my students and their lives. When Jose showed up, offering sweets and speaking in rapid Spanish about futbol, the boys began talking a little more. On the long bus rides back to Recoleta, Jose would share with me what the boys had talked about – that Israel was a serious boxer, that Abraham drove a cab at night to support his young wife and new baby, and that almost all of my students had friends or relatives who were using paco.

Paco is like cocaine for the poor, oftentimes called “cocaine’s garbage.” It’s made out of cocaine residue and industrial chemicals, and it’s incredibly addictive – the high lasts a very short amount of time, so paco users may smoke 30, 40 or even 50 paco cigarettes in a day. And it’s ravaging the villas in Buenos Aires, especially since the financial collapse in 2001.

Jose would tell me the boys’ stories – brothers who had stolen items from the family home to buy paco, friends who were literally wasting away because they were gaunt with hunger – keen for the next fix, but not for a meal. I wanted to talk to my students about the things Jose revealed to me, but I didn’t even know where to begin. And it wasn’t me they had chosen to confide in.

It was even more difficult after Jose left. It had been a relief to watch the boys, my students, talk to someone about their lives, share their complex stories and struggles. I worried because I felt I couldn’t be that kind of mentor to them, for a myriad of reasons.

I did get to know my students more as the weeks went on; they seemed to trust me, and we could laugh together, even when our lessons weren’t going as well as I wished they would. But there were many days I couldn’t even hold classes, because of drug raids in the villa. At least once every few weeks, I would ride the bus over an hour to Mataderos, past ferreterias, mini-marts selling cheap empanadas and car-repair shops. And when I would arrive, someone would tell me there had been a drug raid near Maria Rosa’s house and it was too dangerous to teach that day. I would turn back, wait for the bus outside the gas station, wondering whose cousin, whose father, whose uncle it was this time.

Through my own work here at Hogar Luceros del Amanecer, I have come in contact with ATRAVES, a Nicaraguan nonprofit based in Managua, whose mission is to “support a community of small Nicaraguan organizations that are carrying out creative, locally autonomous approaches to development, education, health and justice.” The organization works to connect the individual needs and interests of potential volunteers with locally established organizations. They will take the time to learn about what you would like to get out of your volunteer experience and what skills you can offer based on your time frame, the type of project you may be interested in, the environment in which you’d like to work and your level of Spanish proficiency. They currently work with approximately 25 different projects in 14 communities across the country and they are continually reaching out to more. Here are just a few examples:

Distributing tomato seedlings to local families. Photo courtesy of ATRAVES.

• In partnership with Engineers Without Borders, ATRAVES is constructing Casa de Salud, a brand new health clinic on the outskirts of Managua.
• Working to promote the work of a local Artisan Cooperative, Cooperativa Artesanos Unidos San Juan de Oriente (UNIARTE), ATRAVES helps the organization to acquire the resources (including volunteers!) for long term success.
• ATRAVES designates May as Annual Health Month. Working with local schools and doctors, they organize a variety of activities to promote health, nutrition and hygiene to benefit some of the more marginalized neighborhoods of Managua.

If long-term volunteering is not what you’re looking for, they are also currently working to organize two 10-day service learning trips in January. To learn more about the Artesania culture and how it intersects with the economy, check out their Artesania and Fair Trade service trip. For more on the history and the natural landscapes of Nicaragua, have a look at the up and coming Lakes and Volcanoes tour. Both trips will include opportunities for both volunteering and relaxation.

If this sounds like something you are interested in, you can find more information about ATRAVES on their website, their Facebook page, or their Idealist page. If you would like to talk with an individual to set up an online meeting, contact Lauren, the Volunteer Coordinator at lauren@atraves.org. Good luck and happy hunting!

Emily Anne Epstein is a photographer and writer who, after spending a year working in Buenos Aires, Argentina, is currently based in NYC. Her interest in the lives of those around her has led her to seek out work with Habitat for Humanity, Americorps, and other non-governmental organizations to support humanitarian efforts.

A couple of weeks ago, we posted one of Emily’s audio slideshows that highlights the work of Habitat for Humanity in Argentina. Today, Emily gives us an intimate look at Villa 31, one of the most well-known slums in Buenos Aires.

Villa 31 is a 1,525 hectare slum located in the business center of Argentina’s capital city. At least 40,000 people call it home, mostly illegal immigrants, where life and death obey different rules than the ones that maintain the city proper. The lands are the most expensive in Buenos Aires because of their location: right in the middle of downtown, close to the stock market and the highest valued neighborhood, not to mention the city’s central bus and train station.

Regardless of its surroundings, Villa 31 exists in a parallel world, almost self-sufficient and with its own values. It is a city within an Argentine bubble; it grows exponentially, composed of Paraguayans, Bolivians, Peruvians and other families struggling to make a living in Argentina. The government of Buenos Aires views the slum as a blight, often imposing laws and raids meant to break up the community. However, upon entering the Villa, you will find children roaming freely. There are several businesses and community centers within the villa, ranging from restaurants to dentists.

While the native countries of the inhabitants are different, many of them share traditional patriarchal or machismo values. Most often, men work as construction workers and women are homemakers and maids. Rather than explore misconceptions about crime and legality, I felt an investigation into the life of children would best explain the complexities of Villa 31 and the infrastructure that maintains it. Children, unpolluted by politics, are the best indicators of injustice.

“Last year I had the opportunity to make an audio slideshow for Habitat for Humanity, a NGO that works to provide housing solutions. I went on site to a “brigade” in Recreo, Argentina, where international volunteers constructed homes alongside families for two weeks. I photographed the buildings, the people, and the teamwork in order to make this video.”

Luiz

We arrived just in time to watch the news on TV. I was secretly thrilled to have been able to watch it there, because there is no TV in my apartment. Rio de Janeiro will host the 2016 Olympic Games!  Shortly after watching Copacabana explode in celebration, Luiz turned off the TV, and said, “Ok, let’s get down to business.” The day was off to a good start.

We found ourselves in the north zone of Rio to do some research regarding tree planting and community participation. We are about to embark on a new endeavor called Rio Floresta (in which we will plant trees in anticipation of the upcoming Olympic Games, and also teach communities how, and why this activity is important). My assignment for the day was to determine how this particular community has already dealt with the management of the current planting project there called Verdejar. We were looking to assess certain leadership qualities for our pilot community.

So, we began by talking to Luiz, the founder of Verdejar. Luiz grew up near Complexo Alemão, in the infamously barren and mistreated North Zone of Rio. As he told us about his childhood, his eyes glazed over a bit. He spoke nostalgically, in a clear and calm manner, about playing in the forest and caves of rocks near his home.

Time, as it always does, took Luiz traveling and he eventually settled in Curitiba, in the southern Brazilian state of Paraná.  A number of years later, Luiz returned to Complexo Alemão to find his home as he remembered it, desecrated. Fires were burning, litter was accumulating, and while the size and density of the surrounding communities were increasing, their levels of health and safety were decreasing. Something needed to change.

Graffiti map of project

Luiz petitioned to the state, asking them to declare 44 square kilometers of land near his home a protected area. His idea was to design a park similar to those that existed in Curitiba. He wanted to clean up the trash, protect the land of fires, deny construction, and begin to reforest. The land, he thought, could be offered to the community as a recreational space for residents.

Not only was the state reluctant to acquiesce his proposal, Luiz also met with the disapproval of residents and the drug traffickers. The traffickers planned to build more houses in this space, meaning additional tenants paying rent, a larger territory to control, and more customers. Undeniably, the traffickers were upset that their plans had been thwarted. They threatened to kill Luiz if he did not retract the mandate. Luiz, a man of approximately 5 feet 2 inches, weighting no more than 100 pounds, said that they should kill him. The residents followed suit, but less forceful manner. They could not understand why Luiz was against building houses for people. For people he had grown up with. For people that were his neighbors. They couldn’t see the benefit in keeping the land free of construction.

Community and reforestation

Luckily, the state agreed to accept Luiz’s proposal, and declared the land a protected area. Metal posts went into the ground designating that sprawl within this area was now strictly prohibited by law. Sadly, however, the threats continued, and eventually, an invasion occurred. Traffickers and residents ignored the mandate, crossed into the protected area, and began to build. Luiz snapped into action by snapping pictures, calling the police, and having the trespassers removed.

Suffice to say, keeping the area protected has been an uphill battle. However, slowly Luiz began to accumulate a number of public and private allies, workers, and volunteers. Today, under the name Verdejar, the area remains protected, and reforestation has begun. A number of diverse plants species have been reintroduced, and the residents are realizing the importance of their park. If not for health or safety reasons, but that the property value of their homes have increased.

Land recovering from fires

In order to educate the public, Luis visits school and universities to talk about his project. He says it’s difficult to win over the students, but if anything, Luiz is persistent. He knows what he wants, he believes in what he is doing, and he will stop at no cost to achieve what he has set out to accomplish. He has all of my admiration and respect, two qualities which I believe has already aided him in his endeavors.