The putrid aroma of rotting trash was overwhelming. I had just arrived in La Chureca, Nicaragua on a missions trip with Lacrosse the Nations, with a goal of teaching impoverished children the game of lacrosse. The children we'd be working with lived here, in this heaping pile of garbage; this completely inhumane environment. .
Although I had been forewarned that these children were impoverished, I was fully unprepared for what I saw. Children - their hungry, malnourished bellies protruding over filthy clothes that hardly fit their misshapen bodies. And mosquitoes, everywhere, spreading disease and contaminated, sickly blood from person to person. It was horrifying. My ears weren't accustomed to the constant, piercing sounds of garbage trucks, pulling into the children's "home," dumping more waste, more degradation, into the growing pile of trash. Not only was I looking into the hungry eyes of these poor children, but the glares of wild boars and skeletal dogs stared at, and threatened me, from the within the debris of the massive piles. .
Before I boarded the plane to Nicaragua, I'd been told that La Chureca had been recently been hit by a massive earthquake which devastated much of he city. Because so many homes had been destroyed, men, women and children began digging out places of refuge in the rubble and of the garbage dump. .
I looked around at the children climbing through boxes, opened tin cans, used diapers, chicken bones and moldy layers of drywall. I looked down and saw a filthy, bony little girl grinning up at me. Her smile innocent and sweet. "What is your name?", I asked. "Rosa," she replied as she tugged playfully at my shirt. I could tell that she wanted me to follow her, so I began to trail behind her. "Where are we going?", I asked. "Come and see my house," she said. I hesitated. Was I ready to face the full reality of where this little girl slept every night?.
