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VBS CORRESPONDENT IVAR BERGLIN ON VISITING REFUSE-SCAVENGER BING'S HOUSE IN THE PAYATAS Descending into the shadow of the Payatas was an odd experience. Right after we'd started down from the trash heaps, we were surrounded by about 20 kids who followed us the whole way to the house I was staying at, jumping around and screaming my name. Once we got to the house, all the family members came up to meet me at the door--all freaking ten of them. We brought them some food with us as a thank-you for putting us up for the evening. Bing, their mom, had told me during the day at the dump that the kids didn't like candy, but we assumed that was just her being momly. Sure enough, when we started to unpack, their faces lit up like it was Christmas. Two of the youngest ones carried around bags of chips the whole evening as if they were teddy bears. Their house was pretty spacious compared to what I'd seen around the neighborhood, although obviously extremely spartan. There was one bare lightbulb for each room: One for the combination bedroom/living room and one for the combination kitchen/dining room/bathroom. The couch in the living room had a plywood seat, and the kitchen had a toilet just sitting in the open against the back wall, which kind of gave the whole place a subtle twinge of pee-smell. They had a little sink and special kind of open-fire stove for cooking on a wok which was fired by coals they made themselves from planks they found around the dump. Oskar, the dad, prepared a chicken for dinner (on the wooden kitchen sink in 100-degree weather) and we all had a really nice meal. While we were eating, different kids kept sticking their heads in to say "Hi," and I could feel the rumor of our presence spreading through the area. After dinner I went outside to hang out with all the guys. Bing had by this point taken on a real motherly role toward me, and tried to convince me that I shouldn't leave the porch as the neighborhood might be a little rough-and-tumble for a pale, skinny Swede. I really felt like a stroll, and I was a good 20 kids strong by this point, so as soon as she ducked inside to grab something, me and my child army snuck off. I felt like I was 14 again. The kids knew who all the local bad guys were, so I felt like I was safe with them. Back in the house there were people all over the floor: kids, Bing breastfeeding, neighbors I'd met, folks I'd never seen. We all chit-chatted for a little bit then went to bed. I woke up after an hour because something kept rustling up against my leg. My first impulse was that a giant rat must be trying to chew threw my calves, so I yanked my leg up and managed to kick one of the kids sleeping next to me, who proceeded to bawl. That didn't feel so great. We all got up at five to get ready for work. Oskar made some sausages for breakfast, then we headed out for the dump. The walk only took about ten minutes, but I swear these were ten of the sketchiest minutes of the entire trip. The guards hadn't wanted us to come down there to film, and as soon as we got to the back gate and they spotted our cameras, they flipped out and wouldn't let us in. So instead of just crossing the dump, we got to circumnavigate it through some of the worst slums in the country with a camera worth probably four or five years' salary to most of the people we passed. I'm extremely grateful that nobody decided to shank us. 
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