Streetvibes December 2005 Edition

Page 1

December 2005

STREETVIBES woman direct her question to me and what was it about that Kroger she disliked so much. Was it the selection or the poor lighting, or simply as she asked “the people asking for money outside?” Yes, I would not direct my distaste for

SHOP... Cont. on Page 10 photo by Kelly Carr

walked out of the store thinking about the interaction. I admit the Kroger on McMillan has no by Kelly Carr selection and the building could use a facelift but I was waiting in the checkout line at I would not direct my distaste for that particular Kroger when this bubbling smiling white lady in a Kroger on the folks loitering outside. So I fur coat bounces up to me with a beaming smile wondered why did this wealthy looking white and asks, “Don’t you just hate this Kroger?” Looking around to see whom she is talking to, I realized she was addressing her question to me, the only other white woman in the store. The Kroger she was referring to is on McMillan Avenue by Peebles Corner and I was a bit taken back by her question. She asks, “Did I scare you?” I said no, but mentioned I didn’t understand her question. She then asks, “Well, don’t people ask you for money outside?” Was she referring to panhandlers? I was immediately disturbed, considering how well she was dressed and considering her disgusted facial expression as she asked the question, I was offended. I replied, “No one has ever asked me for money outside, but corporations ask me for money everyday. I feel harassed more so by advertisements than panhandlers and I would rather give an individual a couple dollars than support the exploitation of millions for cheap plastic crap.” The well-dressed white woman did not say anything to me after that and I

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Extreme Poverty and Homelessness in Nicaragua by John Lavelle There’s a sign on a wall just off the road as you near La Chureca, the municipal garbage dump in Managua, Nicaragua, in the heart of Central America: it reads “Prohibido Botar Basura – Alcaldia de Managua” (“It is prohibited to litter – Mayor of Nicaragua). After my friend Bill points it out to me we cannot help but chuckle a little bit. That very street is lined with massive amounts of garbage, mainly the result of being jettisoned off the trucks meant to contain it as they enter the dump. We walk down a couple of streets in the northwestern edge of Barrio Acahualinca, the impoverished neighborhood that borders the dump, taking a look at where people live and the high volume of trash and sewage running down the middle of the street, just trying to observe and soak in the atmosphere. Finally, we decide to head over to the entrance of the dump, not really knowing what to expect, but hoping for something to grasp on to. There are pockets of gangs that periodically occupy the road as we pass; I thank God that Bill, my six foot, nine inch compañero is accompanying me. Then I wonder why fear is my natural reaction. After all, I am not entirely familiar with their situation; why do I automatically assume that I am in some kind of danger? Have I already judged them and deemed them a threat to me based upon the fact that they have little money, look differently than I do, and gather together on a street corner? Isn’t that the very reaction to the people in the inner city of my home, a reaction that I have come to greatly resent? Being consciously aware of this,

I try to look at the situation from a new perspective. We stop at the top of the hill leading down to the dump, unsure of how to continue or if doing so would even be a good idea. Bill and I make small talk with the guys our age, who are throwing rocks into a mango tree, trying to prematurely jar loose a few pieces of fruit, a few pieces of food. They seem pretty friendly and just carry on with us, asking us the usual questions as we exchange similar small talk with them. This is where Juan enters my life.

We are talking to the security guard about his work there and his perceptions, when a young man, a resident and worker in the dump by his appearance, offers to show us around. In response to our glances of uncertainty, the guard assures us that the dump is safe – easy for someone with a double-barrel shotgun to say – and we begin to follow our new compañero to the entrance of the dump. After introducing himself as Juan Francisco, a worker in the dump

Nicaragua Cont. on page 8

Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless


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