You don’t expect to see smiles in a place like La Oroya.
Even miles from the mining town, the landscape transforms…steadily shifting from green to gray. The Andes mountains – once riddled with trees, shrubs, and grassy slopes (inviting thoughts of Julie Andrews awhirl in song) – suddenly seem stripped and bare. The hills are anything but alive. As we get closer and closer, I write in my journal that the skin of the hillsides seems to have been peeled back – exposing skeletal remains, like skulls lining the road. Golgotha, again and again.
The river running through, the Mantaro, is a dismal yellowy gray, as well. It spills through La Oroya, gathering deadly wastes to share with cities downstream. We drive alongside it.
The first sight of the city is a huge, angry smokestack. Thankfully, it is sleeping quietly at the moment. Last year, in a new bid to avoid the environmental clean-up, Doe Run Peru filed for bankruptcy – but the game will soon be over. In late July the plant may re-open, and the fumes again fill the skies.
For the moment, though, the air is clean – and our eyes and lungs are thankful.
As we drive through the town, we see a parade coming. Parades are as common in Peru as taxis are in Manhattan. This one is lead by the children, however – a celebration and call to action for the Day of the Environment. Some are dressed as cows, dogs, rabbits…reminding us that we share the world with our animal friends. Some of the older kids hold signs in protest of the Doe Run plant. Their signs contrast from the placards held up by workers across the street which call for the re-opening of the plant so that people can get back to work. Thankfully, even the workers applaud the children as they go by. We note the irony of it all.
We make our way to the office of Filomena – an organization committed to a cleaner La Oroya and a cleaner world. The group works particularly with children – several of them the cows and dogs and other fuzzy creatures we passed in the parade. In the face of the oppressive company that dominates their city, and alongside a government that too easily gives in to big business – these children are being taught that they have voices to share…they have the right to a healthy life…they are part of an environment that is unquestionably effected by our decisions and our actions. And, they are taught to teach others.
The children’s organization of Filomena is called CAMBIALO – which means “Construyendo un AMBIente Adecuado en La Oroya.” The acronym sums up the kids’ vision: “Change it.”
We enter an empty room – waiting for the kids to come back from the parade. Grayness shrouds the village we see out the window. We can only imagine what it must be like when the dust clouds fill the air.
We visit first with Esther – the director of Filomena. She relates the years of study that their organization has supported. They have shown that 99% of children of La Oroya have elevated levels of lead in their bloodstream. It comes as no surprise that the Doe Run authorities deny the study’s results. She shares with us that the supporters of Filomena haven’t had it easy – frequently being threatened for their work against the company.
Esther makes their purpose clear, however, saying, “We’re sorry that 3,000 workers aren’t working. We want the plant to be running, to give people their jobs. But we want it running cleanly.” Tearfully, she shares another clear conviction, “We keep going, knowing that people like you are on our side.”
Still tearful, Esther shares the scripture (from Second Timothy) that keeps her going, “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, God has given us a spirit of courage.” Jed, translating, joins all of us with watery eyes.
And just then – enter Scooby Doo.
Four kids – Pamela, Jhovana, Aldair, and Lionela, ages 10 – 12, come bounding up the stairs. Unexpected laughter surprises us – the smiles do, too. Living up to their goal – “Change it!” – the kids change the mood completely.
Pamela is the pluckiest of them all – still dressed in the brown bodysuit, the Scooby head removed. When asked her thoughts about Cambialo, she responds with that still unexpected smile, “Yes, the contamination is bad, but we’re changing it.” She is hope personified.
The kids relate the joy of the parade and the affirmation of the workers. “They know in their consciences what’s right,” Pamela says with something of a smirk.
The conversation flows – the only clean river in town – rich with honesty, smiles, reality, and hope. There is a wisdom in the children that comes from someplace deep. When finally we New Yorkers introduce ourselves, with five pastors among us, one of the kids pipes up quickly, “See, with all these pastors, it’s just more proof that God is with us.”
We ask what they would like to tell the children in New York, and all the United States. Pamela doesn’t miss a beat. “The children need to know that everybody is sick – not just people in La Oroya. There is contamination everywhere, and we’re all in this together.”
Another adds, “We need to let the young people and old people know what happens here. If we don’t speak about it, it can happen anywhere.”
I do my own mental double-take. These kids aren’t even teenagers yet. I ask what they want to be when they grow up. One wants to be a police officer, one a chemist… Little Pamela wants to study Human Rights.
Watch out, world – these kids are ready to change you. They certainly changed us.
Little by little Golgotha transforms…smiles and surprises somehow abound. It still has an emptiness that can’t be denied. But somewhere in the midst of it all – I remember an empty tomb and give thanks for all that hope in the emptiness can do.
