By Ann M. Augherton
Herald Managing Editor
(From the issue of 11/20/03)

HERALD Managing Editor Ann M. Augherton was selected to participate in a study tour, sponsored by the International Catholic Union of the Press (UCIP), where 15 journalists from around the world were chosen for a three-week study tour. The nearly 900-mile trek took the journalists through Mexico, Guatemala and El Salvador. The full story begins on page 16.

He is a con-man, a beggar, an entrepreneur and perhaps the mayor of his "little town." His town is Plaza Francisco Zarco, a square in Mexico City, dedicated to a famous 19th-century Mexican journalist.

Fernando, a bright-eyed 13-year-old who looks much younger than his age, is one of countless children who make their home on the streets of Mexico City.

In what has become a huge, but often well-hidden problem in Mexico, street children — the gangs they form, their often violent behavior, rampant drug use, sexual practices, and general health — have become a mission for change for Alma Colin, a social psychologist in Mexico City.

Some estimates put the number of children living and working in the streets of Mexico City at 1.9 million. Colin said according to the government, there are just over 5,600.

Most of these children make their home in the numerous city parks or in one of the 15 abandoned buildings in the downtown area. The government "cleans up" one area at a time, which keeps the children on the move. There is much violence against these children and among them in their struggle to survive.

Colin said there are between 40 and 50 organizations in the city to help these kids, and there are special hospitals that treat them and ask no questions. She said that since 1990, there have been 160 cases of AIDS and HIV reported from among these children. Unfortunately, performing sexual acts for money is another option for these kids who usually wash car windows, panhandle, sell chiclets, work as street performers or clean in exchange for food.

The young people are between 12 and 22 years old, with the majority between 14 and 17 years of age, and with a ratio of five boys to each girl.

At Plaza Francisco Zarco, the stale smell of glue and solvent permeates the air. These are the drugs of choice for these street kids who sniff them to get high. Most of the kids have a dull, grayish look about them, and many just stare blankly with their hand to their nose, inhaling the glue. The smell, so strong in spots, eats at the minds and the wills of these children.

Fernando’s life story is simple. He left his home in Oaxaca at age 7, and made the five-hour ride to Mexico City with his brother in a pick-up truck, leaving behind the rest of his 20-member family.

Fernando wants to be a lawyer, but he only went to school for four years. I remind him that to be a lawyer, he must go to school, he says "poco a poco," or little by little.

He is dirty, with layers of street stories covering him from head to toe. His nails are long. His pants are worn. His shoes are tattered. His bright red jacket represents the one glimmer of hope society has for a boy like this.

Fernando sleeps next to the Zarco monument, curled up in a faded Mexican blanket from 1 until 10 a.m. I asked him what he does all day. He said he asks for money and earns 50 pesos, about $5 a day. "Not much," he said.

One of the kids hooked up a black and white television near where they sleep. Nearby an older boy washes his jeans with a bar of soap on the wall surrounding the square’s fountain.

"I’m hungry. Buy me a sandwich. Give me some pesos," the other boys say as they surround the visiting journalists.

Fernando boasts that he has thousands of friends. He is the "Gavroche" of this miserable existence, the young scrappy star in Victor Hugo’s epic story "Les Miserables." He excuses himself during our chat as a group of street kids gather around two girls who are fighting. Fernando makes his way into the center of the dispute. Half the size of the girls, he gets between them, and after a few minutes the girls go their separate ways.

I asked Fernando if I could take his picture. "If you pay me," he says.

A tattered picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe leans against the monument wall. Fernando holds it with great respect as he smiles for the camera. He wants to hear about the journalists’ visit the day before to the Basilica dedicated to Mary. He wants to learn some words in English — apple, banana, airplane and dog.

A skinny dog wanders over to sniff the visitors. Fernando wrestles the dog and hugs it, still posing for the camera.

Instead of pesos, I buy him a meal at the nearby food stand. He only wants a soda, but he agrees on a meal with vegetables after some urging.

He beams as the man, who knows him, piles his plate full of food. Fernando carefully places his plate on the lid of a nearby trashcan. As other kids come closer, he guards his food, but allows one boy to snatch a piece.

As darkness falls over the plaza, the journalists began to leave. "You say ‘Bye’ in America," he said as he stuck out his hand and thanked me.

As I made my way out of the plaza, back to the streets where the smell of car exhaust replaced the smell of the chemicals, I looked back and waved to Fernando. I couldn’t help but wonder what would become of this child.