More than two months have passed since the death of a three-month-old baby next to the Casa Rosada; Both she and her parents were living on the street when on March 31 of this year the little girl died in her stroller. In the blocks surrounding the historic Plaza de Mayo, the homeless take refuge where they can, while they await the imminent arrival of winter.
It is important to remember that the latest data collected by the Ministry of Human Development and Habitat reflect that this year there are 3,511 homeless people in the Capital, compared to 2022, when there were 2,611. The increase, then, was 34%.
The street does not discriminate between children, adults or older adults. The recova of Paseo Colón, a place that offers some kind of roof, shelters few people during the afternoon, and those who are in that area fight the low temperatures from their mattresses, with some blankets.
Not far from these buildings, the large concentration of people and merchants of the microcentro favors the presence of people in a state of indigence who ask for help: money, food, shelter ... anything material.
According to the official survey of the Buenos Aires Government, in the City there are 3,511 people in a street situation. The number includes those who are in the paradores. Photo: Juano Tesone
Kendall, a baby about to turn seven months, sleeps on Florida Street with her mother and father. A couple of mattresses, tarps and blankets have been his home since he was born.
Milagros, her mother, is 18 years old and, like Kendall, always lived on the street: "When I was with my parents I remember we went everywhere, we were here and there in Puerto Madero, Recoleta, Retiro, the village ... Now I'm on my side, I have my own family."
Milagros with her little daughter Kendall, in the heart of downtown Buenos Aires. Photo: Juano Tesone.
The young woman says that although she is calm in the area, some time ago she was thevictim of a robbery when she was sleeping with her family. That night they took her daughter's stroller with all of her papers, including her birth certificate.
Now, he assures that from the Buenos Aires Presente (BAP) program, which depends on the Ministry of Human Development and Habitat, they are helping him to carry out the procedures to obtain the lost documentation.
"My dad never liked the BAP, not at all, because he says it's not a help, that they come, they take your data, they ask you and they leave, and they tell you that they are going to send someone, but they never send anyone. I, on the other hand, am grateful to them," she says.
From the Buenos Aires Government they affirm that the BAP seeks to provide "assistance and containment" to people in street situations. They are proposed to go to the Social Inclusion Centers (known as paradores) and also to process housing solutions. But they can't force people to move if they don't want to.
Milagros holds Kendall in her arms and Lautaro, her stepson, by her side. She comments that her biggest fear is that something will happen to the boys during the night: "We are alert because they already robbed us, there are many surgeons, and they can steal from the boys, because it happened that in Retiro a girl had her baby stolen."
The girl sleeps, but never relaxes. His partner is the one who spends the whole night awake to protect the place; He only goes to sleep at eight or nine in the morning, which is the time when the merchants they know begin to open the premises to work. At that time, the one who takes the post is Milagros.
"I'm afraid of the night. I sleep with my baby on this side, cover her with the blanket, arrange her on the mattress, put an arm, her head up and my leg up her. To sleep and have it assured by the doubts, "he confesses.
The arrival of winter is another concern for the couple, since it will be the first of the little one. Through the support of foundations, they get medicine for the boys, but exposure to cold alarms them. Milagros says that they may be able to spend a few days at her father-in-law's house, but they will still have to return to the street.
"Here the police sometimes take us out, throw us out, push us when we sleep. People don't like to see kids on the street," he concludes.
Posters with requests for help abound around those downtown blocks, and one of those corresponds to Sergio, a 43-year-old man who sleeps on the street with two dogs he met four years ago.
He is like this almost five years ago, when his drug addiction led him down "the wrong path", as he relates: "Before I had my house, my family and everything, I take responsibility. You end up here, but hey, thank God I was able to put that behind me."
Sergio has been living on the street for four years with his dogs: Máximo and Zara.Photo: Juano Tesone
Sergio says he is never alone, and that he met unconditional love through the two dogs he adopted on the street, Máximo and Zara.
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When I sleep, they take care of me. They are more faithful than humans. I have met people who have betrayed me on the street. They, years ago I found them in the garbage and they are still with me, "he says.
The man comments that the cold and the night are a bad combination, but that it can be endured. He, like others, prefers the street to the parador, for two reasons: first, because he affirms that there is a lot of violence and insecurity; Second, because in those places they do not accept their pets.
Sergio, Zara and Máximo have their mattress, one that they deploy at night and that together with a blanket protects them from the cold: "At most at eight we get up, because people already pass by and I'm a little embarrassed. We raised money and bought food. We buy clothes, things to shave, to bathe. And food for the dogs," he says.
Sergio has been living on the street for four years with his dogs: Máximo and Zara.Photo: Juano Tesone
"I see a lot of people on the street. A lot of guys, a lot of big people. It's a lot of abandonment towards people. You also have to find a way, but nobody helps you here, not politicians, not campaigns, not anything... There is no help here. If people didn't exist, I don't know what would become of us," he concludes.
The drama of the elderly
Graciela's face is familiar: two months ago, Clarín found her sitting on the corner of Alsina and Solís, meters from Congress. Today, the 65-year-old lady is still there, with her cartons and her few belongings.
Graciela continues to spend her days in the streets near the Congress.Photo: Juano Tesone
Like that time, she continues to denounce that they threw her out of the room she rented in Moreno 3521, that they changed the lock and did not let her remove her things. She also assures that 108 – the helpline for people living on the street – never served her well.
Graciela worked as a coffee maker in the area of the Ramos Mejía Hospital, but she has not done so for quite some time: "A woman came a few years ago and scared away all the coffee growers who were selling. No one helped us, the prosecution never intervened."
According to official figures, there are 3,511 homeless people in the city. Photo: Juano Tesone
He says that a few weeks ago money was stolen while he was sleeping and that he lost the papers to process his retirement.
"Listen to the needy, the weak. The police do not defend you at all, they defend the one who steals. I make changas, I can hardly pay anything," closes the lady.
SC
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