Avellaneda, province of Buenos Aires, Argentina – during the first drop of rain, Ermelinda Aguirre takes his bed in the kitchen, in the sole place where water will not go. It will always be a white night. If the rain is strong, the water will spring through the drain and the bathroom patio, rising until it drowns its floors. In the morning, its walls will be a shock absorber that they are not already, and the water will have brought a mixture of wastewater, garbage and all that it has picked up along the way.
Aguirre, 58, lived in flammable villa all his life. The district is stuck between two of the most dangerous environmental threats in Argentina: the Mattanza Riachuelo river strongly polluted and the Pôle petrochemique Dock Sud, an industrial area which houses a dozen active pollution industries.
For almost two centuries, the river, which extends over approximately 43 miles, was a dumping ground for contaminants. Some factories that line its ribs throw their waste into its waters. In addition to industrial waste, untreated wastewater is the main source of pollution. More than 4 million people live in the pool and 44% lack the appropriate sewer infrastructure.
Polluted water flows into lagoons throughout the region. When it rains, they overflow. Residents have to face toxic waste not only outside, but also at their home – and the situation has worsened as more and more people have moved.
In 2008, after years of perspective, the Supreme Court of Argentina ordered the government to clean the river and provide services such as sewer systems. Matanza Riachuelo Basin Authority, the agency responsible for this responsibility, known as Acumar for its acronym in Spanish, has made progress, in particular by removing some of the waste. But his efforts were slow. The river remains strongly polluted and the toxic floods continue to come.
Then, in December 2023, President Javier Milei took office. Shortly after, his government emptied the agency’s budget in the name of austerity, and Acumar stopped work. Key projects – including the construction of a storm drainage system that would help in flood – have been left unfinished.
Then, in a final blow, the Supreme Court – which had supervised cleaning since its decision – ended its supervision last October, forcing residents to restart the legal battles that started more than 20 years ago.
“I had so much hope before, and now the Supreme Court disappointed me,” said Claudia Espínola, a community representative of Villa Bloppable, a district of around 3,000 families.
The municipality of Avellaneda and Acumar refused the requests for an interview.
Residents have no guarantee to know when things will change – or if they will never do.
Already, children here have shown dangerous levels of lead intoxication, which researchers have linked to contamination of the basin. Skin lesions and respiratory problems are also common among residents, explains Sebastián Romero, a representative of the environmental health unit which serves the flammable villa.
Aguirre suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, which is an autoimmune disease, and asthma, the two conditions have aggravated by humidity. Now a wet smell clings to everything in her house. Years of floods have cracked the walls and painted them green.
“(It’s) collapsing,” she says.
Outside, the sewers open, where mosquitoes reproduce and children play, are everywhere. The neighbors place cardboard or wooden plates on the mud between their houses.
Like many residents, Aguirre has no patience with the government’s apology. Sentences like “in the future” and “while waiting” now sound Hollow, she says. What she wants now, she adds, are real solutions to this secular problem.
His sister got tired of waiting and abandoned the neighborhood, but it is not an option for Aguirre or many of his neighbors. It depends on a social protection check and support from her daughter, which barely covers her needs.
Residents will now have to file new legal actions, each district potentially depositing its own case, which could mean significant delays, explains Mariano Hernán Gutiérrez, in charge of the work team of the Matanza Riachuelo river at the office of the public defender.
Little hope remains for Espínola, but she will not stop fighting, she says, because she organizes petition documents to submit again.
Whenever he starts to rain, Simón Ibáñez, another resident whose house frequently floods, hoists his 72 -year -old mother on the back and staggers to the house of his brother, who is on a higher ground. His mother has already fallen once, but not during one of the evacuations. He fears that she will slip and break another bone.
“What are we going to do?” he said. “We cannot leave.”