How the other side live

Street Dwellers

On Saturday we were given the chance to work with some of the people who live on the streets in Cochabamba. One of the plazas (called San Sebastian) is home to about 20 men and women, who spend every waking and sleeping minute within the plaza.
They are there for various reasons, whether unemployed through alcoholism, kicked out of home at a young age, or in some cases simply born and raised on the streets, so that they know no other home.

Two American girls who we know here go there every Saturday, along with 5 Bolivians from a local church in Cochabamba. As foreigners (I can't believe I still don't pass as a Bolivian) we were strongly warned to stay away from both the plaza San Sebastian and a neighbouring hill where another group have made their home in the shrubland. They are considered to be violent, threatening and offensive by the locals. We were only able to enter safely because we were with people who have put in the time and effort to get to know each of these people by name, although I'm not sure I could say that they have befriended them. We gave out cups of tea and some rolls for breakfast, then tended to any wounds they have (each forearm is criss-crossed with scars, and fresh ones ooze pus and dirt until they can be properly cleaned. I'm not sure how much is self-inflicted and how much results from the regular fights they have amongst themselves). We sit and chat with them and the church group talk to them about Jesus before praying with them and singing some songs.

On other trips into the city we drive past the plaza on the bus, and we can see them lying on the grass, or staggering around drunk early in the morning. But the experience of being in physical contact with them is much more intense and overwhelming.

When we arrived we were instantly surrounded by 4 or 5 of them, each greeting us cordially with a handshake or a kiss on the cheek, like old friends. But from the moment that we met until the moment we left 2 or 3 hours later, each and every one of them held a small plastic bottle in their hand, as constantly and unthinkingly as if it was an extra limb. These small bottles are filled with glue, which they can buy in bulk cheaply. Every couple of minutes they inhale deeply from their bottle, whether they are talking to us, eating a sandwich or listening to a prayer from one of the church members. It was tragic to see how much of a dependence they've built up on their drug - anything to escape the monotony and mundanity of living on the plaza, where their only next goal is to find enough food for the day.

The most upsetting sight for me was to see a 2 year old boy being wheeled around the plaza by his dad, who was so drunk that he was practically using the buggy as a crutch to keep himself upright with one hand, whilst the other held the obligatory glue bottle. I couldn't find out where his mother was, and his clothes were ripped and dirty. He seemed amazingly well considering his surroundings, but the sad realisation is that unless someone intervenes in his life he may well progress onto glue in a few years time, and perpetuate the cycle.

We spent the last hour with the next group up the hill. Another 20 or so people, living on 5 or 6 mattresses and bundles of old blankets huddled under a tarpaulin. Many of them seemed to be aged 12 or 13, each already seasoned glue sniffers. Some of the women were pregnant, which still didn't stop them getting high, or stop the men hitting them.

The work done with these people on a Saturday seems so feeble and minute when I consider the struggles that they face daily; it's hard enough to keep on living let alone get the strength, determination and opportunity to break out of the cycle. But when community in general has ostracized them then any attempt to reach out in love is a step in the right direction. All we can do is pray for them.


This wasn't really a suitable situation for a camera, and this post is definitely a sobering one. Sorry if it is upsetting or uninteresting; I thought it was worth sharing.. The last few days have been much more light hearted - we spent some time down in Sucre, 12 hours away. I'll write a bit about that and include some photos sometime soon!