In DR, mountain is trash, treasure

Photo courtesy of Tiffany Drahota

A dump worker stands in front of Cien Fuegos, a mountain of fire and trash. This picture was taken by an 8-year-old Cien Fuegos resident named Ramón.

By TIFFANY DRAHOTA Correspondent

CIEN FUEGOS, Dominican Republic — The Dominican Republic boasts the tallest mountain peak in the Caribbean, named Pico Duarte. However, the country does not brag that it is also home to Cien Fuegos, one of the most difficult and dangerous mountains in the world to climb.

Cien Fuegos translates to “100 Fires,” a highly symbolic name for citizens. The community’s first set of houses burned to the ground in 1975, forcing citizens to relocate next to the city dump. The dump eventually outgrew itself and became a mountain of trash. The fires of the past haunt them to this day. Small fires can be seen in the dump every day because of methane produced by the decomposing garbage.

Our group of 12 students, three staff members, three visiting professors and a handful of student guests began the morning by loading into two vans and driving an unfamiliar route through Santiago on a cloudy Monday morning. We chatted and joked about what I would later discover was impossible to anticipate or even fathom.

I knew we had arrived when I saw the smoke and smelled the stench that filled the air. It was then that I began to realize the enormous power the mountain has over its residents. Our tour guide, Tomas, began the day by presenting the problems his community faces. He ended the day acting as our sherpa.

Tomas shared that Cien Fuegos is a small community struggling with prostitution, corruption, lack of education and hunger. Community members are constantly reminded of their social status every time they look at their mountainside property. Because of the toxins, the entire community wakes up with a cough every morning.

Jobs are limited to working in the free trade zones in the distant mountains or working as trash sifters and collectors looking for glass, plastic, aluminum and metal to sell. It seems symbolic that both of these jobs involve scaling mountains.

After our information session, I befriended Lisa, 9, and Ryan, 4, two local children. While Tomas explained the risks to us, Lisa and Ryan grabbed my hands and began helping me up the mountain in their flip flops. My new friends would not let me stop until I reached the top, although my lungs began aching halfway up as I clumsily stumbled.

At the top, the mountain enveloped me. It scared me. There were cows, birds and dogs sifting through trash alongside the adults and children who were working. A group of children played in a pile of cardboard boxes; Ryan picked up a piece of rusted wire to save for later. It seemed contradictory that the mountain killing these people and stripping them of their dignity was also their primary source for employment and, ultimately, for food.

My reaction was to pick up Lisa and protect her. One of the students in our group said, “Tiffany, she has walked this probably a million times before; she can climb this better than you.”

“I know.” But at least she will not have to climb it just this once. "