Berkley Center

Since arriving in Buenos Aires, Argentina, there have been many things throughout the city that have both caught my eye and piqued my curiosity. Trying to learn as much as I can about my new environment for the next four months, I've bombarded my host family with questions such as "What is that?", "Why are things like this?", and "When did that happen?" While I've questioned them about a wide range of topics, there seems to be one phrase that comes up more than others: "“After the crisis…."

Nearly a decade has passed since the economic crisis of 2001 that devastated Argentina, but here in Buenos Aires there are still many visible effects of that difficult time. With the unemployment rate during the crisis reaching nearly 25 percent at its worst, Argentines were forced to find alternatives to traditional jobs. Many of those creative means to earn money are still quite prevalent in the nation's capital today. I live close to Parque del Centenario—a large circular park in the middle of the city commemorating the country's centennial in 1910.

My first weekend in Buenos Aires, I got a glimpse of the lingering effects of the crisis as a feria, or market, was sprawling throughout the park. Each and every weekend, small booths are erected around almost the entirety of the park's mile circumference, allowing vendors to sell everything from toy action figures to used books. The feria phenomenon exploded throughout the city during the crisis as people flocked to public spaces trying to sell odds and ends to make a living. Since then the tradition has continued, as each weekend one can see people selling what they can in many public parks or plazas. Apart from this, one can also find individuals making their way through the subway car by car, selling almost anything: scissors, stickers, books, pens, booklights, flashdrives, socks, tissues, and CDs, to name a few.

Moreover, as in any big city, musicians can be found on the street playing for money, but here in Buenos Aires, they seem to be more abundant and creative. Electric guitarists wheel their small amplifiers from car to car on the subway and even jump aboard buses en route to serenade their captive audiences. Impromptu espectáculos (shows) are also plentiful, with people putting on quick performances in hopes of earning a few pesos. I've seen a juggling unicyclist pedal out in front of a three lanes of stopped cars at a red light, a small boy of no more than 5 or 6 years attempting to juggle with two balls in a subway car, and the most extreme: a man on the street displaying his tough skin by shoving shards of broken glass into his face and then laying his bare chest over a pile of broken glass and having two full grown men stand on his back. Again, though you can find things such as this in nearly any urban area, the frequency and variety of such espectáculos outweigh anything I've seen in the past.

However, perhaps the most visible sign of the lingering effect of the crisis is the numerous cartoneros, who scour the streets in search of recyclable materials that they can sell for small amounts of money. During the crisis, as people lost their jobs, some turned to the life of a cartonero in order to survive. While the sight of a cartonero was much more uncommon beforehand, some estimates placed the number of cartoneros in Buenos Aires immediately following the crisis at 40,000. While that number is markedly less today, many still make their living sorting through the city's trash. There is no one type of person that defines a cartonero. In my short time here I've seen men, women, children, families, and even a few elderly hauling massive carts through the streets that carry what plastic, glass, paper, cardboard, and other recyclable materials they have found throughout the day.

From what I've learned so far, cartoneros are able to sell their materials by the kilo to companies that then reuse such materials to make recycled goods. Some cartoneros have formed together to sell their material in bulk and receive better prices for their goods, but many also work alone. Often times, cartoneros will commute daily from outside the city, taking long train rides to their humble jobs. The work itself is particularly rough, as it consists of digging through piles and bags of trash to find the coveted recyclable materials. While the environmental consciousness is growing, many living within Buenos Aires don't recycle regularly, failing to separate trash from what is recyclable and thus giving the cartoneros even more work to do. The work can often be dangerous, with many cartoneros working by night on the curbs of busy streets, or on the streets themselves, hauling massive carts, which can often weigh hundreds of pounds at the end of a successful day.

The social phenomenon of the cartonero becomes even more startling when contrasted to the sophisticated system that our society has at its disposal in the United States. Many city residents can simply empty their recyclable materials into a plastic container, put it out on the street, and by the time they get home from work it will have already been whisked away. While working on the back of a recycling truck might not be a highly coveted job in the United States, those that do the country a service by helping our environment can count on steady hours and pay, work under relatively safe conditions, and receive some benefits with their job. The life of the cartonero and the recycling industry in Buenos Aires couldn't be more different.

Finally, as Buenos Aires moves forward with its ambitious effort to reduce the overall tonnage of waste sent to neighboring landfills, it will be interesting to see if the cartoneros will be involved in any formal efforts. According to the Basura Cero law passed by the city legislature in 2006, Buenos Aires aims to reduce its landfill waste (using 2004 statistics as a base) by 30 percent in 2010, 50 percent in 2012, and 75 percent in 2017. The law goes on to forbid sending any recyclable materials to landfills starting in 2017. Despite the fact that city has installed numerous permanent recycling receptacles on the streets and provided some neighborhoods with personal recycling containers, early estimates report that the government is currently falling far short of its 2010 goal. While the future of the cartonero remains to be seen, their presence throughout the city at the moment is just one of the reminders that the aftershocks of the economic crisis at the turn of the millennium can still be felt in Buenos Aires today.