Slumming It

October 22, 2022

I commute to Guatemala a couple of times a week for my job. I don’t like going there – the poverty is depressing. But at least my Spanish has improved over the last nine years that I’ve been working there.

I should explain that although I did go to that Central American country over 30 years ago, the Guatemala that I’ve visited in recent years is located in wealthy Marin County. It’s known as the Canal district, so-called because many of its rundown apartment buildings in the city of San Rafael overlook a waterway that leads to San Francisco Bay. And the main drag is called Canal Street.

Most of the people I interview in that neighborhood are from Guatemala, although some are from Mexico or other Central American countries. Almost none of them are in this country legally, which is why there is irony in neighborhood signs that say “Ten cuidado con los coyotes” (Beware of coyotes). The signs are warning of the dangers of the wild animals, but coyote is also a slang term for the exploitive human traffickers that smuggle many of these residents across the border with Mexico.

I don’t like the dirty streets, the empty beer bottles, the lack of street parking due to way-overcrowded apartments. It reminds me of, well, Guatemala City, the ugly capital of that impoverished land. On the other hand, when I’m able to let go of my discomfort with the lack of cleanliness, I’m sometimes able to enjoy the ice cream pushcart hawkers ringing their bells, the fresh fruit vendors, the numerous charming little kids, the blaring music from apartments and cars, and the beautiful boats across the canal in the marina and at the Marin Yacht Club. Rich and poor, separated not by railroad tracks but by water.

Conducting a health survey is what brings me to the Canal barrio, and other social science research projects have caused me to work in more dangerous neighborhoods such as East Oakland, the Bayview Hunters Point neighborhood in San Francisco, and the south side of Chicago. In contrast, the Canal area feels safe to me, with children on bikes, single women, and families on the sidewalks day and night. I see almost no graffiti or signs of gang activity or crime, though in such a densely populated area there is bound to be some illicit activity. The people have been generally friendly and welcoming to me, even when I knock on their doors without an appointment. As an old white guy, my presence is a bit of a novelty to them, especially when they discover that I speak their language.

By world standards, the Canal area isn’t really a slum. I’ve seen a lot worse squalor in Mexico City, Managua, Sao Paulo, Casablanca, and Cairo, not to mention miserable living conditions in Indian cities such as Delhi, Bombay (Mumbai), and Varanasi. By comparison, the Guatemalans who have made it to Marin County are fortunate indeed.

But while I appreciate the hospitality and upwardly mobile progress of these hard working people, I must confess to feeling some unease about the sheer number of migrants crossing the border both legally and illegally. The U.S. seems to be the world’s largest importer of poverty, as if we didn’t already have enough underprivileged Americans to provide for. How can we possibly offer health care, housing, and education to millions of people from other countries when we already have such big problems with homelessness, racial and cultural tensions, and inadequate social services?

And we are not alone in dealing with the negative consequences of mass migration. Other developed countries such as Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and European nations are at risk of being overwhelmed by vast numbers of people escaping war, authoritarian governments, and climate change. Instead of bringing Third World countries up to the standards of wealthy nations, it seems that we are in danger of dragging North America and Europe down to the level of chaotic and impoverished societies.

Even though it often appears that the human race is determined to turn Planet Earth into a giant teeming slum, I occasionally find hope in a generosity of spirit that I seem to lack.

A couple of weeks ago I met a young man from Honduras – I’ll call him Alberto – who admitted to me that he had recently paid a coyote $22,000 to bring him across the border with Mexico. I asked him why he came to the U.S., when it would be easier and cheaper to go to the stable and relatively prosperous Central American countries of Costa Rica and Panama. He opened his wallet and showed me a $100 bill and said, “This is why I came here.” He can make far more money in the U.S. than anywhere else in Latin America. And he needs money to support his numerous younger siblings, because both his parents died of cancer, so he sends money back to Honduras to pay for the food, housing, and education of his brothers and sisters.

I don’t like it that Alberto and millions like him are coming here. But I don’t blame him for coming, and I greatly respect him for supporting his young family members.

The world may be going to hell in a handbasket, but at least one young man is doing his best to spread love and share abundance in his corner of the planet.