The Poor Side of Town

The area is called Miramar - a dry, dusty arroyo that just happens to be the home for hundreds of impoverished Mexicans; mostly children. This area is the town dump where vultures fight over discarded fish heads, a perpetual fire burns with noxious fumes, and the stench of rotting garbage assaults your nostrils with each breath. Off in the distance, there is a clear view of the azure blue Sea of Cortez; beaches lined with multimillion dollar haciendas owned by wealthy Americans and Canadians. A Holland America cruise ship can be seen in the distance, discharging elderly passengers for a day of shopping.

Picking through the trash, looking for morsels to eat, you will find barefoot children of all ages. The children live in one of the many, tiny shacks lining the dirt pathway. The shacks are made with found materials, such as automobile hoods, cardboard, old mattresses, sticks, and wooden crates. Many have make-shift fences and stacks of objects found at the dump, that someday, may have a use. There is fine dust everywhere that clogs your nose and lungs.

Most of the children do not attend school. They must have a uniform and shoes in order to be enrolled. A uniform costs $10 and five dollars will buy them a pair of shoes. Transportation is not a problem - people walk everywhere in Loreto.

We chose Miramar as a place to personally distribute the children's clothes that we brought 1500 miles from home. Packed tightly in four suitcases, we were able to bring hundreds of outfits - donated by the families in our medical practice. Among the hundreds of rambling shacks, there were children that desperately needed them.

As we drove down the dusty pathway in our four-wheel drive truck, we were silent; perhaps in shock by what we were seeing. We spotted a few children digging in a trash heap, so we stopped. A woman in her early twenties was collecting items nearby; she had another baby on her back. After exchanging a few words in Spanish, she approached our truck. By this time, we had opened the tailgate and lined up a series of boxes filled with clothing; sorted by size and sex. Quietly and graciously, she accepted dozens of clothing items for her children.

Three teenage women and thirteen children were sharing the next "house" which was not much bigger than an American bathroom. The children squealed with delight as we handed out t-shirts with Thomas the Train and Spiderman. The little girls were easily fitted with shoes and socks, since they were all barefoot. We had a full suitcase with women's clothes and shoes as well. We had no men's clothes, much to the disappointment of the one elderly man that came out with the children.

After making one delivery after another, we came to one of the last cardboard homes before the road became impassible. Standing alone, next to a pile of rubble, was a little blond girl I estimate to be seven or eight years old. Her mother came out shortly carrying a 15-month-old boy. She thought we were selling the clothes and told us she had no money. We told her that all of the clothing was free (gratis). We started piling cute little outfits on her outstretched arms. She and her mother had beautiful smiles; the 15-month-old was whining in Spanish. A local authority said that her blond daughter was most likely fathered by a gringo. She may have been a prostitute at the local brothel at one time - one of the ways that desperate mothers get money to feed their children.

Our friends, who live in Loreto, were looking for the home of a woman with five children. She was able to feed them with the milk of her only goat; that is until someone stole it. They plan on buying her another goat if they can find her. Her place looked abandoned now, so she must have moved on.

It was 5 PM now, and many of the men were walking down the road from day jobs or fishing. Most will earn only $10 a day for hard labor. There are plenty of construction jobs in Loreto for men willing and able to work. The women who work at the brothel earn more; up to $120 per day minus the $20 a day room rental and 10% commission for the brothel owner. We were told that the brothel is owned by the family of a prominent local politician.

My friend's daughter, Kim, visiting Mexico for the first time, was crying from what she had seen. We did not sleep well in our clean bed last night. We were not hungry, either. Those children had no beds and they may not be eating for a different reason. They did not have running water, plumbing, or electricity. The babies do not have diapers...or toys. They do not have milk to drink because they have no way to keep it cold.

I dreamed about Miramar and other ways that we can help the people of Miramar. If I skip lunch...for just one day...I can send $15 to Loreto so that one Miramar child can go to school.

My wife and I plan on skipping a lot of lunches.

• Traveling Baja
• Travel Woes
• News from Baja
• Baja - The Adventure Continues
• Sergio - Bueno Pirro
• My Pescado - Eating from the Sea of Cortez

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