A Draconian police force
Mid January On The Beach
She stands, her hands in her pocket, stiff her back is up tight. "What's going on here?"
<<¿en que están?>> she asks her partner suspiciously, "What might they be up to?". Her head cocks up like a puppet on a string. She is on a power trip, suspicious of everyone and anything. And she isn't the only one.
The street dog that has come to sit beside us has become invisible to her quota; her only interest is to threaten and menace. This is a totalitarian regime.
Late January On my way out of Copiapó
I pass by three policemen. They stare with disdain at an impoverished man; a stain on the society they intend to create. If they could, they would eradicate it. A plastic bottle is poured down the drain as I walk past with my backpack and bags.
On Christmas Eve
The guy I have met up with is on edge. He is fun and friendly and educated. Suddenly, he tells us to move on; the police are coming.
In Chile no one has ever told me of a time the police have helped them. Instead, I hear stories of travellers who have been victims of robberies and on telling the police are left with a shrugging of shoulders. The police are focusing their efforts on targeting the most vulnerable; easy targets.
I do hope when I return to this country things will be different. Not for me; for its citizens. And most of all the poor.
Whereas in Europe, when considering the poor, we generally consider Relative Poverty and not Absolute Poverty (which is currently classified as earning below $1.90/day according to the UN), in Latin America there are two current classifications for the poor. The first uses the term linea de indigencia and the second linea de pobreza. We can translate these into English as those suffering from indigence or destitution and those generally living in poverty, the former much worse off than the latter.
This categorisation can go even further; those below the poverty line scraping an existence are considered vulnerable and those in destitution are simply classified as having an insufficient income to be able to sustain life itself; unable to afford the necessary food to provide even the basic calories to survive.
A view from Retiro bus station, Buenos Aires. Some of the wealthiest in the country live in the apartment blocks behind the shanty town, Villa31, where some of the poorest reside. The blocks in view hide a street behind called Esperanza, Hope.
In contrast in Chile, I found areas of cleared land where shanty towns once existed. The poor, simply forced to live on the periphery. At least those in Villa31 can scrape by a living by recycling in the city centre. Many of the workers too, will work in the hotels as maids or gardeners in Recoleta Cemetery, polishing the gravestones and mausoleums of those lucky enough to be born rich. Here, no one talks of social mobility.
Various dates throughout Chile and Argentina
December 2018 and January 2019.
She stands, her hands in her pocket, stiff her back is up tight. "What's going on here?"
<<¿en que están?>> she asks her partner suspiciously, "What might they be up to?". Her head cocks up like a puppet on a string. She is on a power trip, suspicious of everyone and anything. And she isn't the only one.
The street dog that has come to sit beside us has become invisible to her quota; her only interest is to threaten and menace. This is a totalitarian regime.
Late January On my way out of Copiapó
I pass by three policemen. They stare with disdain at an impoverished man; a stain on the society they intend to create. If they could, they would eradicate it. A plastic bottle is poured down the drain as I walk past with my backpack and bags.
On Christmas Eve
The guy I have met up with is on edge. He is fun and friendly and educated. Suddenly, he tells us to move on; the police are coming.
In Chile no one has ever told me of a time the police have helped them. Instead, I hear stories of travellers who have been victims of robberies and on telling the police are left with a shrugging of shoulders. The police are focusing their efforts on targeting the most vulnerable; easy targets.
I do hope when I return to this country things will be different. Not for me; for its citizens. And most of all the poor.
Whereas in Europe, when considering the poor, we generally consider Relative Poverty and not Absolute Poverty (which is currently classified as earning below $1.90/day according to the UN), in Latin America there are two current classifications for the poor. The first uses the term linea de indigencia and the second linea de pobreza. We can translate these into English as those suffering from indigence or destitution and those generally living in poverty, the former much worse off than the latter.
This categorisation can go even further; those below the poverty line scraping an existence are considered vulnerable and those in destitution are simply classified as having an insufficient income to be able to sustain life itself; unable to afford the necessary food to provide even the basic calories to survive.
A view from Retiro bus station, Buenos Aires. Some of the wealthiest in the country live in the apartment blocks behind the shanty town, Villa31, where some of the poorest reside. The blocks in view hide a street behind called Esperanza, Hope.
In contrast in Chile, I found areas of cleared land where shanty towns once existed. The poor, simply forced to live on the periphery. At least those in Villa31 can scrape by a living by recycling in the city centre. Many of the workers too, will work in the hotels as maids or gardeners in Recoleta Cemetery, polishing the gravestones and mausoleums of those lucky enough to be born rich. Here, no one talks of social mobility.
Various dates throughout Chile and Argentina
December 2018 and January 2019.
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