Ecuadorian Citizen #23098417 – Alberto Bohorguez

Ok, I admit it, I made that number up. But that isn’t really the point, the point is I want to tell you about someone I met recently.

Last Saturday I was heading for home after a little walk and decided to drop by Carlos’ guard post. Approaching the door I could see someone inside and made some weird noise to announce myself; out stepped someone who was most definitely not Carlos!

And thus I met Alberto, filling in for Carlos while he was on his one vacation of the year. I found out he was from the Coast and in Quito by mistake really. He had contacted a man to help him gain entrance into the United States where the individual promised Alberto that a $15/hr job awaited him. Alberto and three other hopefuls met in Quito and after going over the plans paid the man $1,200 each. They met at the appointed time and place… and the man never showed. Tricked by a coyote.

No money, no plan, no family in Quito, Alberto lived for a time in a cardboard box and ate bread. Going three days without food became the norm and he went from a self-described pudgy to stick-thin.

After this tale I had to head for home but I promised him to stop by again. That time ended up being today. Biking home under gray skies and an intermittent rain all I could think about was getting inside, warming up, and finding something to eat. As I passed the guard station I called out hi, continuing to ride. A boisterous “HEY!” responded and Alberto burst out to greet me. He seemed positively pumped to see me and I knew the warmth and food would have to wait a bit.

After some banter he told me so many people in Ecuador treat guards like servants, not fellow human beings, and he was grateful I wasn’t taking that approach. His story continued.

After wandering the streets for a while he was eventually able to find employment as a guard. I asked him how that was going as he was obviously still with it. Long hours, little pay, and dangerous was the reply. He told me one time he was attacked from behind, something was smashed against his head, and he awoke bloodied and confused to be interrogated by police as a possible accomplice to the crime. Alberto’s shift that night was normally staffed by two guards but that evening his compatriot hadn’t showed up. The guard company employing him has refused to pay for an X-ray even though he still feels the effects of the injury 5 months later. Alberto cannot afford it by himself.

After this he called out someone who was inside the guardhouse, and introduced me to his 16-year-old cousin who has come to Quito in hopes of finding work. His cousin doesn’t have a place to stay so he overnights it with Alberto for the moment. There isn’t enough room for even one person to lay down in the little shack they call a guard station, but two?





(Alberto and his cousin.)

By this point I was positively freezing and saying goodbye I headed for home. As soon as I got inside, I started thinking about Alberto and his cousin sitting out there in an un-insulated hut, shivering and with nothing to eat for dinner.

Grabbing two bananas and my camera I headed back outside.

I returned an hour later, after having chatted with Alberto and his cousin on topics ranging from being careful not to marry too early to the economic disparities between our two countries. We had all crammed into the little guardhouse to avoid the cold; it was cozy to say the least!

And here I am, inside, warm, belly full, and writing you all. I posed a question a while back, that being - why was I so lucky? I didn’t have an answer then, I don’t now, and I imagine I won’t ever really figure it out, but I am starting to see maybe I’m asking the wrong question. It seems a better way to look at this conundrum is: what can I do for those who weren’t as lucky as me?

Hope you’re well.