Retiro train station, by Flickr user wallyg

Buenos Aires Metropolitan Police dismantled more than 20 sales stands in the Retiro bus terminal today, claiming it was due to the vendors’ illegal marketing of goods.

Beginning at 5am, agents seized toys, clothing, and electronic equipment from the location on Ramos Mejía street. The police said it was because “the vendors could not verify the origins of their merchandise.”

Dozens of outraged shopkeepers, many from Villa 31, responded by placing roadblocks down Av. Antártida Argentina, demanding the city let them keep their jobs. The shopkeepers denied police claims that they were selling counterfeit clothing.

An unidentified shopkeeper told La Nación: “We were not given any warrant, they took everything, emptied everything … What’s more, they took clothing that had no marked brand and said it was falsified.”

Metropolitan Police claimed the operation was ordered by misdemeanor court Judge William Morosi, but shopkeepers said it was unwarranted because they were not shown any notice at the time of eviction.

During the protest, a car was burned opposite the Belgrano Norte train station. Its owner was unhurt and firefighters put out the fire. Protestors claim they had nothing to do with the blaze.

Police sources say the confiscated merchandise “was taken to a legal deposit”, and that nobody was arrested during the conflict.

If you ask your Buenos Aires taxi driver to take you to Villa 21-24 in Barracas, he will most likely refuse to go within blocks of one of the capital’s largest shanty town settlements (‘villas‘).

Ignored or condemned by the state for decades, villas in and around Buenos Aires rarely have paved roads, modern sanitation systems, or reliable electricity. Meanwhile, the estimated villa population of around 160,000 face daily discrimination in society and stigmatisation in the media.

But change is happening from within. A grass-roots movement called La Poderosa (‘The Powerful’) is working to build a more just world inside the villas. It also strives to change the perception of the villa communities through its monthly magazine, ‘La Garganta Poderosa’.

“It is a social and political movement,” says one activist in charge of the communication workshops. “La Poderosa is a form of life, a revolutionary movement. It transforms the society from the inside out.”

Unusually, La Poderosa was founded on the idea of anonymity. Instead of an organisation, it is a ‘movement’. Instead of volunteers, its members are ‘activists’. There is no president. Company donations are not accepted and there are no handouts to the people of the villas. Instead, villa residents work selling food and clothes as well as publishing ‘La Garganta Poderosa’, which serves as both a work cooperative and “the movement’s voice,” according to the same activist.

Goals for Change

La Poderosa is named after the motorcycle that Che Guevara used to travel around Latin America, paying tribute to Che’s effort to expose inequality in the region. The movement was founded nine years ago by residents of Villa Zavaleta, located in southern Buenos Aires, who wanted to change things that seemed – and still seem – unjust. The neighbours began by organising football matches, and as these gained popularity throughout the villa, they began to incorporate new dimensions to their work, including art seminars, communication workshops, and work cooperatives.

Football remains a key tool, and in one sunny Sunday in October, children from five different Buenos Aires villas – 21-24, Zavaleta, Soldati, Retiro, and Rodrigo Bueno – got together for a football tournament organised by La Poderosa and staged at Banfield Athletic Club, graciously rented free of charge for the occasion.

Boys playing football (Photo by Diego Cupolo)

“This isn’t just an excursion, this is a day to play football, an outlet,” describes another activist in charge of the tournament. “The kids come to train on all of the practice days and never miss a session. They choose for themselves to make the commitment.”

Before any football is played, the children from different villas are required to sit together in a circle and discuss the rules of the games, such as how many points goals are worth depending on the age of the scorer, as a group. The method is used to create mutual respect, on and off the field.

“The circles are the most important part,” the same activist explained. “We believe that during life, rules are imposed upon these kids. But in the circles, they have to discuss and agree on rules for themselves.”

“No one is teaching, no one is learning,” explained the communication activist. “We are all equal, we are all teaching and learning, and when we are sitting in a circle no one’s opinion is worth more than another’s.”

La Garganta Poderosa

Using the power of communication to support change is one of the key goals of ‘La Garganta Poderosa’. One activist describes the magazine as a break in the culture of silence: “Magazines of the villas in the past have been only used as toilet paper for people. We decided we had to make it the best magazine in the world to seriously change things.”

The magazine features interviews with important figures in Latin American culture such as football star Lionel Messi, writer Eduardo Galeano, and musician Charly Garcia.

La Garganta covers (Photo: Beatrice Murch)

One 15-year-old boy from Villa Zavaleta has been working as a journalist and illustrator for La Garganta for one year. “I want to be a journalist,” he says. “That is my dream.”

Alejandra Díaz, 47, started working as a reporter for La Garganta after her son was killed in Zavaleta. “I am very happy to interview people that have gone through the same things that I have,” she says. “It becomes a talk, mother-to-mother.” Díaz began selling empanadas and sweets within La Poderosa. She became a reporter after showing interest in the work of the magazine. “They [La Poderosa] never abandoned me,” she said.

Both Díaz and the young journalist agree that La Poderosa is empowering the youth of the villas. “The movement is giving kids another option,” Díaz said. “There is another possible life without drugs. There is more.”

The culture of anonymity runs through the publication: The board of directors is listed as “all of the neighbors of all of the assemblies of La Poderosa in Latin America,” The Editor-in-Chief is listed as Rodolfo Walsh, an Argentine journalist who was killed by the military junta the day after writing an open letter condemning human rights abuses on the anniversary of the 1976 coup. The editors are listed as “all of the reporters, photographers, illustrators and the whole team of popular communication at La Poderosa.”

Spreading the Power

As La Poderosa grows, the neighbors of the villas continue to work together to end discrimination, create mutual understanding, and improve the lives of the people living in the community. Upcoming plans include a trip to the beach for local children and a fundraising football tournament open to the public.

“We have to generate awareness,” says another activist. “It is discrimination that generates negative opinion.” And awareness is spreading. La Poderosa is now part of villas in six different regions of Argentina: the city and province of Buenos Aires,, Jujuy, Tucumán, Córdoba and Entre Ríos. Each branch of the organisation was formed because residents of the villas outside of the capital wanted La Poderosa to be a part of their communities.

“The idea is to follow the example of that [Che's] ‘poderosa’,” according to the movement’s website. “That is what we want to be. Something that does not stop, it pauses at each place to teach and learn a lot but then keeps traveling to new horizons to absorb everything discovered along the journey. We started this journey and we hope it will be infinite.”

Todos Juntos helps a local girl with her decaying teeth. (Photo: Agus Carini)

The sprawling metropolis of Buenos Aires is home to 13 million people, many of whom live in shantytowns, existing on the fringes of the city and the outskirts of society.

Fiona Ambrosi arrived from the UK in 2003 to research the recycling workers, locally known as cartoneros, who live in these marginalised areas. Walking through the streets of José León Suárez, one of the many shantytowns in Greater Buenos Aires, there was one thing among the many obvious signs of poverty that made a lasting impression – the local children’s teeth.

“It was awful, the teeth were either just not there or rotting in the children’s mouths,” she describes.

Ambrosi decided to take action by setting up ‘Todos Juntos’, a foundation that helps children receive dental treatment. The goal is not only to treat rotting teeth and gum problems, but help improve overall oral health through education.

A System in Decay

For years, the residents of José León Suárez, in the San Martín department just north west of the capital, had been using public dentists, which provided free treatment, but did not include any level of education or preventative care.

“When we started, the patients told us they would go to see a dentist, he would tell them the tooth is rotten and to come back in six months to get it pulled,” explains Ambrosi. “Nobody had any teeth!”

As a result, Todos Juntos worked to generate funding for a dental clinic in the San Martín area. The first clinic, called ‘Sonrisa’ (Smile), opened in 2006 with 400 children registered as patients. Each child is entitled to full, free dental treatment until they are 18 years old.

Todos Juntos makes a positive social impact on the community. (Photo: Agus Carini)

On top of the modern, reclining chairs, overhead lights and full cleaning instruments, the clinics focus on educating each patient on the prevention of cavities and the importance of maintaining a clean mouth.

The programme has grown considerably since then: last year, Ambrosi estimates that they registered 5,750 children for treatment at the three clinics Todos Juntos now runs.

But the clinics themselves are just the first battle won in an on-going struggle.

The dentists in the clinics do not only fix teeth, but try to reach out to the children and their families in order to change the pattern of behaviour behind tooth decay. Walking around Sonrisa III, there are posters for healthy eating, and information about which things are good and bad for teeth.

But posters cannot compensate for a broader lack of education in the area. Though there are three schools around the shantytown of 40,000 residents, they do not run to a regular schedule. Often, the electricity is out, or the teachers cannot make it to class.

Going Beyond the Smile

Without the support of local schools, there is no infrastructure for education on the basics of nutrition. Although the dentists and those working with Todos Juntos try to distribute information about healthy eating and talk with parents about high-sugar diets, the clinics are run out of a neighbourhood where poverty is rife, and there is scant access to a healthy, balanced diet.

Such is the level of poverty, some residents of the San Martín area comb the nearby landfill once a week, looking for extra food. The things they find are generally non-perishables that are high in sugars.

Rodrigo is one of the dentists working for Todos Juntos. He says that the mothers put cola in the bottles of their infants “because it’s cheaper than milk”. He also explains how the sugar keeps the babies quiet when they are hungry, offering a quick short-term solution but generating serious tooth problems down the line.

Of course, drinking water instead of cola would greatly reduce the rate of decay but access to this most basic and essential of commodities is also difficult. According to Aguas y Saneamientos Argentinos (AySA), the water works of the Greater Buenos Aires, this area of the city is supposed to receive potable water. However, the current infrastructure and supply is not able to sustain the number of residents for the area.

As a result, only 68.1% of houses in the metropolitan area have access to water, and shockingly, just 39.2% receive sewage services. Ambrosi explains that in San Martín, where the Sonrisas clinics operate, water is not accessible in many houses due to a lack of adequate internal plumbing. The main source of water is a system of pipes and interconnecting hoses that lead around the housing complexes.

Rodrigo, one of the dentists working with Todos Juntos. (Photo: Agus Carini)

Without ready access to potable water or proper education about its advantages over fizzy drinks, the challenges facing Todos Juntos are great. But these obstacles seem much smaller when there are individual success stories. Ambrosi recalls a 14-year-old who arrived over a year ago with just ten of his 32 teeth and a face that was swollen due to infection from the decay. Over the past year, Todos Juntos has implanted four front teeth with polymers and dentures.

“He had no teeth and … he got a job within two or three days of getting his front teeth. He was so excited that he came back to tell us,” Ambrosi says.

Fundaco is a foundation that sets up and operates animal clinics in the villas in and around Buenos Aires. Among the services they offer are free vaccinations and castrations for pets, performing as many as 80 procedures a day, while also educating locals about proper care for animals.

Camera & editing: Kristian Anderson

The Argentina Independent plans on launching a free, independent, monthly publication in June. In order to remain 100% independent, we are hoping to raise the funds to cover the initial costs of design, printing and distribution via crowdfunding platform Ideame.

And to remind you of all the good things we have done over the course of the past six years as a publication, as well as giving you a reason to support us in our bid to go into print and help us keep doing such things, we will be bringing you a taste of some of the good times each week! This week – a selection of our best content.

If you would like to support us in our fundraising campaign, please visit our Ideame page where you can either make a donation (every cent counts), or help us by spreading the word!

Endangered: Argentina’s Disappearing Languages

Every two weeks, one of the world’s languages dies out, and Argentina is not immune to this mass linguistic extinction. Kate Granville-Jones’ investigated this phenomenon and discovered of the 35 languages spoken in Argentina in pre-Columbian times, now just 15 remain, and one has only two living speakers.

Family members fight to be heard at a protest against family member's deaths in February 2010 . (Photo: Beatrice Murch)

Gatillo Facil and Deaths in Police Custory

“2009 was not just another year. It started with a new Miguel Bru that was Luciano Arruga, and finished with a new Walter Bulacios: Ruben Carballo. Police repression and violence grew to the point of taking the life of someone every 24 hours.” Any student of Argentine history is familiar with the dictatorship of the 1970s and 80s, and the thousands of students, unionists and activists that were “disappeared” by the military regime. A subject which is less-publicised, however, is that state violence and repression did not end with the return of democracy in 1983. As Daniel Edwards discoverd in his 2010 report, federal and provincial police forces continue to routinely use extreme violence and torture against suspects and detainees in their facilities, which often results in the death of the victim.

Guaraní Suicide

After a 2008 report indicated that the Guaraní indigenous group had the highest rate of suicide as a people in the world, Kristie Robinson headed up to community in Misiones, just 15km from the world-famous Iguazú Falls, to meet with Guaraní leaders to talk about the alarming rates of suicide and what is being done to tackle the issue.

Paco in the hands of an addict (Photo: Kate Stanworth)

Paco: Drug Epidemic Sweeping the Streets of Buenos Aires

Anthony Bale’s 2008 article on paco, a by-product of cocaine that is wreaking havoc on the lives of many shantytown inhabitants, brought the stark reality of life in Buenos Aires’ underclass home to many of our readers.

Secret Squats and Silent Evictions: A Response to BA’s Housing Deficit

In 2009 Harriet Hernando’s looked into Buenos Aires’ social housing crisis and the city government’s handling of the situation, highlighting mass migration to the cities and inadequate government policies, as well as violent police crackdown on illegal squatters as the main culprits in the crisis.