Think of a postcard of a beautiful blue lake surrounded by volcanoes. Now, think of dirt hills covered in trash. From afar, the hills look covered in a light coat of snow, sprinkled with touches of color here and there. Now, add hundreds of people picking through the trash to make their living. The contrast in sights, sounds, and, especially, smells between Lake Atitlan and the trash dumps of Guatemala City was almost ridiculous.

Monday through Saturday from 5 a.m. until 7 p.m., around 3000 people come to the dump to pick out all of the recyclables they can, which they sell to middlemen, who sell the objects to the recycling companies. On a good day, the “guajeros,” slang for “scavengers,” make the equivalent of $14.

The people of Guatemala City know that the dump exists, but most have never seen it. As you approach it, you first notice the smell and see the birds circling overhead. Huge walls make it impossible to see the area from the road.

To get into the lookout point, our guide had to ring a bell, which prompted a guard to pull aside the 12 foot high doors from each side. We drove towards a small pond surrounded by hundreds of vultures. They were around the water, in the trees and flying above.

We moved towards a cliff. The drop was probably around 500 feet, and the people were a little less than a quarter of a mile away. One after another the trash trucks dumped their goods, and the people followed, backs bent, picking out all that they could. Lines of people walked beside the trucks, hunched over from the weight of the bags over their shoulders.

Shortly before five a.m., people line up to get in, but the rush hour is from four to seven p.m. when the best trucks come. The guajeros, known to outsiders as “recycladores” or recyclers are 80 percent women and 75 percent indigenous people.

The recyclers can get 40 Quetzales ($5.30) for 100 pounds of recyclables after selling them to the middlemen, who make about five times as much for their part of the process.

Driving away from the trash dump, we passed people selling food on the side of the road. They constantly waved their rags back and forth to shoo away the masses of flies. Municipal workers in neon green worked to pick up the trash on the road. The razor wire atop many fences and buildings were wrapped with trash bags. There was a no dumping sign on a trash-filled road one street over from the dump.  

After traveling a few streets over, we visited a preschool that an organization called Safe Passages runs. Well within smelling distance of the dump and surrounded by shacks was an oasis of cleanliness for children of the recyclers. The armed guard opened the gate of the day care center for us. Immediately, we were in a different world. The driveway was made of multicolored tiles. The clean yellow pastel buildings smelled of disinfectant, and there was a man on the roof repainting a white border along the edge of the building. Flowers and murals made up the perimeter of the compound. Older kids played lacrosse on a field to the side of the main building. There was a tournament coming up for the school age children.

We entered the main building, which consisted of several classrooms with a large courtyard in the middle. In the back was a brand new playground full of color. There was a remarkable contrast between the brightly colored playground, the forest green cinder block fence and the peeling, rusted tin shack directly behind the razor wire.

A bridge connected one fort from another and just below it lay a small piece of neon green trash—a pudding cup.

As the group listened to some of the workers (there are 15 full-time staff, plus volunteers), a child in a Chicago Bulls t-shirt tried terribly hard to pull away members of our group to come play with him. Three girls said “Gustavo, Gustavo” in a sing-song voice as the young boy vied for attention. He ran towards the girls, kicked his foot in the air and, with a shriek, they ran away.  

Social workers decide which children can come to the school. Only children whose parents actually work in the dump are allowed to attend. For $50 a month, the 60 preschool children are sponsored to attend the school, receive clothing, shoes, food, books and any other necessities.

Liz Herrera, our premiere translator, guide and Guatemala BuildaBridge liaison, explained that the daycare she previously worked for near the dump had to pay a stipend to families so their children would attend. Children under 14 can no longer work in the dumps, but, before the rule was in place, parents would often rather have their kids work than attend school.

After leaving the preschool, we visited Safe Passage’s K-12 school for children 5-20. Bayer sponsors their doctor, nurses and provides medicine. On the walls leading to the doctor’s area upstairs, there ae pictures commemorating Laura Bush’s visit the year before. Half of the 417 students come in the morning; half come in the afternoon.

On the way to the seminary where we ate lunch, we got out of the van to walk four blocks. We left everything in the van—no cameras and no bags of any kind. We passed all of the middlemen and enormous bags full of plastic products. We got stares from across the road and all around us. We were told to talk to no one. Armed guards are everywhere in the city, and, considering the crime rate, it is understandable that they would be outside of car dealerships, pharmacies and even restaurants. Where we were walking there was a guard with a shotgun in front of a bodega selling drinks, snacks and candy. As we walked, the van followed nearby in case of a problem.  

We passed a huge line of trash trucks, all privately owned with a license from the city. There are about 800 trucks in the city, and each house has trash picked up three times a week.

For our last stop, we visited an organization called CAFNIMA for kids that were recyclers but are now in school. A child can be no older than eight to enter first grade, but the ministry of education approved CAFNIMA to teach students above this age, so they can get caught up on the education they had missed.

Several members of our group performed for the children. Eastern Graduate students David Melby-Gibbons, Celmali Jaime and Leah Samuelson sang, recited poetry and gave a drawing lesson, respectively. BuildaBridge intern Erica Breitbarth also sang for the children.

After the performances, each artist spoke to the four groups of six to eight kids, explaining their background and interests and giving mini lessons.

In the morning we saw masses of people doing work unimaginable to most Americans. But as the day went on, we visited organizations making an effort to educate and make opportunities for children that would hopefully not have to experience the same hardships.