El Salvador / Inequality

The Sum of All Crises - Economic Misery Confronts the Pandemic in El Salvador

Friday, October 16, 2020
Carlos Barrera

Stefany Gómez rests with her son in the shade of a tree on a plot of land near the Río Grande of San Miguel. While she takes care of her son, her partner washes cars in town. Of their monthly earnings of $250, they paid $75 to rent a room prior to Covid-19. Since the start of the pandemic, Stefany gave birth and her husband wound up unemployed. With a newborn at home and the fallout of the quarantine, they decided to leave their old home in search of a place where they could save money and start fresh. 
Stefany Gómez rests with her son in the shade of a tree on a plot of land near the Río Grande of San Miguel. While she takes care of her son, her partner washes cars in town. Of their monthly earnings of $250, they paid $75 to rent a room prior to Covid-19. Since the start of the pandemic, Stefany gave birth and her husband wound up unemployed. With a newborn at home and the fallout of the quarantine, they decided to leave their old home in search of a place where they could save money and start fresh. 

 

 

Luz Fuentes in the yard of the property where she has lived for ten years along the Río Grande in Urbina 2, San Miguel. Each swelling of the river has left all sorts of debris at Luz’s home and chewed away at the land where she built her sheet metal home, causing her to flee in search of a more stable spot on level ground farther from the riverbank.  
Luz Fuentes in the yard of the property where she has lived for ten years along the Río Grande in Urbina 2, San Miguel. Each swelling of the river has left all sorts of debris at Luz’s home and chewed away at the land where she built her sheet metal home, causing her to flee in search of a more stable spot on level ground farther from the riverbank.  

 

 

A conacaste tree scorched by lightning stands near the entrance of the community. On the tips of the branches, vultures perch in wait for a dead animal or wasted food. Below, dozens of families take refuge in makeshift shacks as they piece their lives back together. 
A conacaste tree scorched by lightning stands near the entrance of the community. On the tips of the branches, vultures perch in wait for a dead animal or wasted food. Below, dozens of families take refuge in makeshift shacks as they piece their lives back together. 

 

 

Around 180 adults and dozens of children fled Urbina 2. Under each of the tarp tents along the banks of the river, where the families have taken shelter to recover economically, there is at least one child. Parents say they’ve come here to rekindle the hope of providing decent housing for the children, who, on any given day, roam around the land and play in the trees. 
Around 180 adults and dozens of children fled Urbina 2. Under each of the tarp tents along the banks of the river, where the families have taken shelter to recover economically, there is at least one child. Parents say they’ve come here to rekindle the hope of providing decent housing for the children, who, on any given day, roam around the land and play in the trees. 

 

 

José Díaz, 34, rests on his bed in a room his mother built for him along the banks of the Grande. Like the other residents who came from Urbina 2, José’s mother doesn’t own the property where she lives. He scavenges for recyclables but has been unable to sell any amid the pandemic. He says he has worked since August to build decent lodging. “We’re leaving for the new place in the hopes that one day it will be ours, because we can’t live here any longer. One day the river will sweep away all these shacks,” he said. 
José Díaz, 34, rests on his bed in a room his mother built for him along the banks of the Grande. Like the other residents who came from Urbina 2, José’s mother doesn’t own the property where she lives. He scavenges for recyclables but has been unable to sell any amid the pandemic. He says he has worked since August to build decent lodging. “We’re leaving for the new place in the hopes that one day it will be ours, because we can’t live here any longer. One day the river will sweep away all these shacks,” he said. 

 

 

Cough syrup, painkillers, paper, a flashlight, and a whistle belonging to José Darío Argueta, 74. “The whistle is in case something happens and I have an emergency, and also to warn my neighbors of any danger,” he said. Residents have organized a community watch program to keep the area safe. 
Cough syrup, painkillers, paper, a flashlight, and a whistle belonging to José Darío Argueta, 74. “The whistle is in case something happens and I have an emergency, and also to warn my neighbors of any danger,” he said. Residents have organized a community watch program to keep the area safe. 

 

 

Sebastián Orellana rests with his daughters inside a tent built with sticks and a plastic tarp on the land where they’ve lived for a month. Sebastián, who sells essential goods for a living, has been unable to work during the quarantine. As a community leader, he helps others construct their own tents. “What we want is for the authorities to pay attention to us and for someone to donate this land to us so we can live here legally. This land has seen some bad things but now is home to 100 families,” he said. 
Sebastián Orellana rests with his daughters inside a tent built with sticks and a plastic tarp on the land where they’ve lived for a month. Sebastián, who sells essential goods for a living, has been unable to work during the quarantine. As a community leader, he helps others construct their own tents. “What we want is for the authorities to pay attention to us and for someone to donate this land to us so we can live here legally. This land has seen some bad things but now is home to 100 families,” he said. 

 

 

The banks of the Río Grande span four departments in eastern El Salvador: Morazán, San Miguel, La Unión, and Usulután. The community of Urbina 2, San Miguel, is located along the right-side bank pictured above. Each successive river swell threatens to level the community. The families have fled to elevated ground on the opposite side. 
The banks of the Río Grande span four departments in eastern El Salvador: Morazán, San Miguel, La Unión, and Usulután. The community of Urbina 2, San Miguel, is located along the right-side bank pictured above. Each successive river swell threatens to level the community. The families have fled to elevated ground on the opposite side. 

 

 

José Darío Argueta, 74, found a plot in the new settlement. Until recently, he made a living as a bricklayer, but now he is too tired. He has never owned his own home, has no pension, and now seeks a place to spend the rest of his days. “I’m at an age where I can no longer work. I just hope this land can be mine for someone to build me a home,” he said. 
José Darío Argueta, 74, found a plot in the new settlement. Until recently, he made a living as a bricklayer, but now he is too tired. He has never owned his own home, has no pension, and now seeks a place to spend the rest of his days. “I’m at an age where I can no longer work. I just hope this land can be mine for someone to build me a home,” he said. 

 

 

Sebastián Orellana attempts to light a fire to prepare a meal. Some activities are communal in nature; if someone has nothing to eat, others will provide it. “The goal here is to help each other so that nobody goes hungry or gets wet. That’s the only way for us to build a community,” he said. 
Sebastián Orellana attempts to light a fire to prepare a meal. Some activities are communal in nature; if someone has nothing to eat, others will provide it. “The goal here is to help each other so that nobody goes hungry or gets wet. That’s the only way for us to build a community,” he said. 

 

 

When the families began to arrive a month ago, the land was covered in impenetrable shrubs. Since then, there has been a collective effort to clean and burn the trash to make the place safe for all inhabitants, so that kids can avoid injury while playing around the landfill. 
When the families began to arrive a month ago, the land was covered in impenetrable shrubs. Since then, there has been a collective effort to clean and burn the trash to make the place safe for all inhabitants, so that kids can avoid injury while playing around the landfill. 

 

 

Some of the families who fled Urbina 2 have gradually set up camp on this section of land over the past month. Residents hope to establish a new settlement and, one day, own the land. 
Some of the families who fled Urbina 2 have gradually set up camp on this section of land over the past month. Residents hope to establish a new settlement and, one day, own the land. 

 

 

Lunchtime under the tent of Delmy Chicas, 30. Like others, she looked for a campground after failing to pay rent at her old home. She and her partner, who washes buses in San Miguel, have three children. Public transportation was out of service for months amid the quarantine. “He didn’t work for months and we have to pay $60 each month where we live. We don’t have that money,” she said as she ate. 
Lunchtime under the tent of Delmy Chicas, 30. Like others, she looked for a campground after failing to pay rent at her old home. She and her partner, who washes buses in San Miguel, have three children. Public transportation was out of service for months amid the quarantine. “He didn’t work for months and we have to pay $60 each month where we live. We don’t have that money,” she said as she ate. 

 

 

The area occupied by the 100 families was formerly an informal landfill where people from the city left their waste. The trash is still visible today along the outskirts of the community. Nestled between the tents was this jawbone. 
The area occupied by the 100 families was formerly an informal landfill where people from the city left their waste. The trash is still visible today along the outskirts of the community. Nestled between the tents was this jawbone. 

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