ENDANGERED PENGUINS

An excerpt from my photo essay book

PREFACE

What does it mean to be invisible? How can we justify our indifference? What can we do to change this reality?

Argentina is home to around 5,000 garbage and waste dumps.¹ The vast majority of them are sources of food and housing for thousands of people. But this is not an isolated issue – it is a rampant phenomenon that affects millions of children and families across Latin America and beyond. In a world where the gap between the rich and the poor continues to widen, the United Nations estimates that more than 9 percent of the world’s population still lives in extreme poverty, surviving on less than $1.90 per day.² That’s almost 700 million people. Thus, the community featured in this book is one small example of a reality too easy to ignore and too easy to forget. I created this book to help counter that. 

The questions at the beginning of this preface are central to my intentions. By bringing readers and observers closer to the life of these children, I intend to spark conversations and actions that challenge the status quo and foster compassion and understanding.

As you read this book, you’ll witness these children’s strength, hope, and creativity, despite the circumstances they endure. They are living proof that the human spirit can triumph even in the face of adversity. They remind us of our capacity for hope and responsibility to one another. So as you turn the pages, remember that these children are not mere statistics. They have dreams, aspirations, fears, and an unconquerable will to survive. Their lives matter; they deserve our attention, empathy, and support.

In recent years, organizations like UNICEF, the World Bank, and the Inter-American Development Bank have focused on poverty alleviation and improving the lives of those living in slums or near garbage dumps. These efforts are crucial, but they cannot bring about change in isolation. Governments and ordinary citizens must all play a part in the fight against poverty and inequality.

As Eduardo Galeano once wrote, “Indifference is a powerful weapon of mass destruction.” Let us choose not to be indifferent but rather to engage with these children’s lives, challenge our preconceptions, and strive for a more compassionate and inclusive society. Together, we can work to dismantle the systems that perpetuate poverty and create opportunities for these children to thrive. In doing so, we can attempt to redefine what it means to be “invisible.”

In “Endangered Penguins,” I have tried to capture the essence of their spirit, laughter, creativity, and courage. By sharing their stories, I aim to amplify their voices and inspire you to take action in your own way. Whether donating to a charity, volunteering, raising awareness, or simply starting a conversation, every effort counts in the fight against poverty and inequality.

I encourage you to reflect on your own life and the privileges you may take for granted. Consider the profound impact that your actions, both large and small, can have on the lives of those less fortunate. The children of El Bordo are a reminder that our choices and collective will can shape the world for the better.

As you close the final pages of this book, I invite you to carry the lessons and stories of the children of El Bordo with you as a steady reminder of the power of hope, resilience, and our shared humanity. Let us unite to create a more just and compassionate world where no child is left to suffer in silence or be forgotten in the shadows of indifference.

Thank you for embarking on this journey with me, and may it leave a lasting impact on your heart and your actions, just as it has on mine. 

1- Argentina’s Ministry of Environment and Sustainable Development | https://www.argentina.gob.ar/ambiente/accion/basurales
2- United Nations, Department of Economic and Social Affairs | https://unstats.un.org/ 

Day 1

Allow me to take you on a journey of wonder, joy, confusion, and frustration. 

In the year 2010, my uncle told me about a community in Santiago del Estero, Argentina. He didn’t say much more than it was a place where dozens of children would meet up and play all day long in a world of their own, without the prying eyes of parents. This world? Miles and miles of garbage piled high into a makeshift mountain range of waste. 

“You have to see it,” my uncle insisted. Conflicted, I grabbed my camera and made the journey. From there, I was alone, save for a ten-year-old guide from the city that took me across a few miles of desert wilderness and contaminated swamps. Before long, we crossed a polluted pond that served as a threshold for “El Bordo,” which roughly translates to “The Border.” 

As we ventured closer to El Bordo, we happened on some kids hunting birds, armed with slingshots. I felt a pang of sadness for all the dead birds, but the kids explained to me that they don’t just kill them, they eat them. I could feel then what the next few days were going to be like. Moments later, we met 3 other kids with homemade fishing rods celebrating a fresh catch. Their rods were made of wild cane sugar and electrical wire, found in abundance on the garbage piles. 

A few hundred feet from our final destination, I was suddenly surrounded. Dozens of kids began to pepper me with questions. “Who are you?” “Why are you here?” “What’s that?” “Can I use the camera?” 

I was immediately hesitant to offer them my camera, so I began to take photos of them instead. By the third exposure, I felt wrong. I was coldly watching these children from a distance, judging them. It was all so objective, and I felt sour. I turned to them and offered up the camera. “Come here, look, this is the shutter, you look through here. Now go take photos.” 

Of course, a fight broke out immediately about who got to go first, and whose turn was after. But the argument subsided and soon enough, I could hear the snap of the shutter and a wave of giggles. The giggles became laughter, and the sour feeling in my stomach turned to excitement. This was going to be a great trip after all.

The kids began to photograph themselves, from their perspectives, at their height. They were photographing the world as they knew it. This was their reality, not mine. Over the next three days, the kids and I took thousands of photos of their world, of “El Bordo.” I quickly noticed the children interacted with the camera differently than I would have. To them, it wasn’t a tool; it was a toy. They were playing with it, having fun in the moment. From that point forward, I sought to approach these photos with the same spontaneity. Of course, I had to wait for my turn… 

El Bordo wasn’t just a slum, there was an entire neighborhood within. I could see makeshift living sheds, a few hollowed-block bricked houses, and even rudimentary fences. I could tell some of these kids were living here. 

The kids passed the camera around for a while but were distracted soon enough. I began to hear screams of “picadito!” “picadito!” from Tito, the “funny guy” of the group. This roughly translates to “little pick-up game,” and the kids gathered to play football. Sure enough, I was pulled in, and let me tell you, our match had the ferocity of a World Cup final. Within 2 minutes, I was gassed and could hardly keep up. So, I sat on a nearby garbage pile with some of the younger kids, and we took some more photos. See if you can spot the football…

I sometimes couldn’t spot the ball. But who cares? I would see them dash back and forth, shouting and laughing. This was the best seat in the stadium. However, I had difficulty understanding who scored and who didn’t.

Once again, I handed the camera to a kid who wanted to be closer to the action.

Once the game finished, a few kids ran up to me, eager to show me something. “Mire Profe,” they said, or “look professor,” my new nickname. They showed me how they built kites from plastic garbage bags, synthetic twine, and thin cane. The ingenuity was incredible. I was reminded of the kites I made when I was their age, though I would use store-bought kits with precut string and perfectly symmetrical wings. You know something? Their makeshift kites flew higher and better than mine ever would.

The kids were full of games. Next up? Musical chairs. And uh, this one was tough. For starters, there wasn’t any actual music. So, to play and stop, they needed me to whistle loudly when they were supposed to find a chair and sit. The only sounds were tiny feet scraping against dirt, interrupted by an occasional whistle. It was deafening. My chest felt leaden. But they weren’t sad, they were overjoyed, and having fun.

Night fell quickly, and I had to head back to my cousin’s house. He fed me, and I took a 15-minute warm shower. As the hot water hit my skin, I felt guilty. I didn’t say much for the rest of the night. I was processing everything I’d seen and heard that day. I closed my eyes, and it was morning. Time to go back to “El Bordo.”

Day 2

On the second day, I was greeted by the loudest screams and the biggest hugs. The kids then invited me to scavenge with them through the mountains of garbage to find sacks for a sack race…

If you enjoy what you are reading, consider getting a physical or digital copy of my upcoming book “Endangered Penguins.”

(coming soon)