"Of the top 15 countries with the worst inequality of income distribution, Latin American countries account for 10 of them."
“Who lives in these mansions?” one of my companions asked. Surely they must cost less than the mansions at home, right? The poverty in Ecuador was far worse so it only made sense.
“Oh, richer Ecuadorians. The people that live in this part of the city have a lot of money. Some of them will fly to Miami just to go shopping on the weekends,” my group leader answered.
At the time, I remember scoffing in disbelief. We had driven less than 20 minutes from a village that had no drinkable water. A neighbor who had been kind enough to invite us into her home had to interrupt our visit to flag down the water truck because she hadn’t had any for three whole days. And these people, only a bridge away, flew to Miami on the weekends to shop? Impossible.
As I said in an earlier post, 70 percent of Ecuador’s population lives below the poverty line, leaving approximately 30 percent of Ecuadorians above that dreadful division. But how far above? According to the GINI Index, a way of measuring wealth distribution in a country, Ecuador scores a 43.7. To understand this number, it’s important to understand that the more unequal distribution of wealth is, the higher the number will be and vice versa. So in that context, a 43.7 isn’t great by any means. (Japan and Sweden clock in at 24.9 and 25, respectively.) But in the context of Latin America, this number isn’t at all surprising. Why? Because, according to the United Nations Development Program, of the top 15 countries with the worst inequality of income distribution, Latin American countries account for 10 of them.
As I said in an earlier post, 70 percent of Ecuador’s population lives below the poverty line, leaving approximately 30 percent of Ecuadorians above that dreadful division. But how far above? According to the GINI Index, a way of measuring wealth distribution in a country, Ecuador scores a 43.7. To understand this number, it’s important to understand that the more unequal distribution of wealth is, the higher the number will be and vice versa. So in that context, a 43.7 isn’t great by any means. (Japan and Sweden clock in at 24.9 and 25, respectively.) But in the context of Latin America, this number isn’t at all surprising. Why? Because, according to the United Nations Development Program, of the top 15 countries with the worst inequality of income distribution, Latin American countries account for 10 of them.
Our van eventually turned into Nuevo Mundo, a school where two of the Rostro volunteers taught English and after learning more about the dynamics there, I’m not sure a more perfect example of uneven wealth distribution has existed.
The school sits on grounds more beautiful, picturesque, and equipped than my own college campus. Lush soccer fields and immaculate buildings sit atop the sprawling campus as students spend their free time outside in the warm Ecuadorian sun. If they’re hungry for something other than the cafeteria, they can visit one of the “snack bars” that sell pizza and ice cream. Well, let me be clear: if the morning students are hungry they have the snack bar option. Because God knows the “afternoon kids” can’t afford it.
Nuevo Mundo, like many South American schools, runs on a half-day schedule. The “morning school” is for paying students—most of them come from the gated communities near the high rises and the malls over the bridge. School for these students extends to the 12th grade, and they are all fluent in English by the time they graduate. Their tuition funds the “afternoon school,” a program that buses kids in from communities on the far side of the bridge like Arbolito. These children do not buy pizza and ice cream from the snack bars. They do not fly to Miami on weekends. After grade 10, afternoon students that have high enough academic standing are given a scholarship to the morning school. The rest of them must finish their last two years before university elsewhere. Or nowhere.
The school sits on grounds more beautiful, picturesque, and equipped than my own college campus. Lush soccer fields and immaculate buildings sit atop the sprawling campus as students spend their free time outside in the warm Ecuadorian sun. If they’re hungry for something other than the cafeteria, they can visit one of the “snack bars” that sell pizza and ice cream. Well, let me be clear: if the morning students are hungry they have the snack bar option. Because God knows the “afternoon kids” can’t afford it.
Nuevo Mundo, like many South American schools, runs on a half-day schedule. The “morning school” is for paying students—most of them come from the gated communities near the high rises and the malls over the bridge. School for these students extends to the 12th grade, and they are all fluent in English by the time they graduate. Their tuition funds the “afternoon school,” a program that buses kids in from communities on the far side of the bridge like Arbolito. These children do not buy pizza and ice cream from the snack bars. They do not fly to Miami on weekends. After grade 10, afternoon students that have high enough academic standing are given a scholarship to the morning school. The rest of them must finish their last two years before university elsewhere. Or nowhere.
A bridge and a 15-minute drive is all that separates these students physically. Two different worlds on two different sides of town. But besides the miles and the minutes between them, the students at Nuevo Mundo are victims of the skewed wealth distribution that is wrecking Ecuador and Latin America on a much larger scale than pizza and ice cream stands. This division is a hard pill to swallow, especially when you drive by it and walk through its campus, so I’m going to research the causes of the wealth distribution.
After all, the only way effective change can come about is if we understand its roots, right?
After all, the only way effective change can come about is if we understand its roots, right?