By ghetto | Photo
When poverty and perseverance coexist in the steep hills of Caracas
According to a study published in July 2020 by the Universidad Católica Andrés Bello and the Institute for Economic and Social Research, 96% of Venezuela’s population lives in poverty, and 79.3% in extreme poverty.
The Silva family belongs to that latter group—a household struggling with malnutrition and scarcity, where three young children and their parents fight daily for survival.
Sector Morocho Hernández, Propatria neighborhood, Caracas.
A Family on the Hillside
Tibisay Silva’s youngest son was born with respiratory complications. In Colombia, he received the medical care he needed. Once his condition improved, Tibisay returned to Venezuela on foot with her three children. Waiting for her in Caracas were her husband, Franklin, and their modest home in one of the city’s hillside settlements.
Not long ago, the Barreto Silva family’s table was never without vegetables or fresh produce. Their income also allowed them to buy other household essentials. Despite being born without his left kidney, Franklin—the father—earned a living unloading trucks filled with produce for local supermarkets.
Life seemed relatively stable in their home, located in La Cochinera, a humble sector of Propatria, in western Caracas. But everything changed on March 16, 2020, when Venezuela entered lockdown after the country confirmed its first two cases of coronavirus.
The mandatory quarantine, meant to contain the virus, left Franklin without work. Like millions of Venezuelans, his family’s financial situation quickly deteriorated.
Climbing for Survival
Every day, Franklin and Tibisay climb more than a thousand steps to reach their home—a fragile structure made of zinc sheets and cardboard perched high on the hillside. They make the same descent and climb back, searching for ways to earn a few coins to feed their children.
Their home consists of a makeshift bathroom—with an uninstalled toilet and no sink—a small kitchen, and a single shared room. All five family members sleep there: María Fernanda, eight; Freiker, two; and baby Freiner, five months.
During the pandemic, food became scarce. Most days, they eat rice with chicken skin. On worse days, just fried plantains. Despite everything, Tibisay and Franklin make sure their children never go without at least one meal a day.
Two years ago, Tibisay worked cleaning houses, but she had to stop when there was no one left to care for her children. Franklin, meanwhile, continued searching for jobs to keep the family afloat.
Now, they survive through barter—exchanging plantains for small portions of oil, sugar, or coffee sold in bags of less than 100 grams. But their remote location means customers rarely come.
The Price of Poverty
Today, the family depends almost entirely on government subsidies distributed through the Carnet de la Patria, a social program promoted by Nicolás Maduro’s administration.
“But that’s barely enough for a few pieces of bread—and without any filling,” Tibisay says.
These so-called “protection policies for the people” are intended to cushion the effects of Venezuela’s economic collapse, which the government blames on U.S. sanctions.
In practice, the subsidies amount to less than four U.S. dollars per month, according to the Venezuelan Central Bank’s exchange rate as of July 23. Meanwhile, the Basic Food Basket cost around 437 dollars that same month, according to the Center for Social Documentation and Analysis (Cendas).
The Decision to Leave—and to Return
Driven by necessity, Tibisay decided to migrate to Colombia in October 2019 while pregnant with her third child. Her husband stayed behind, working and caring for “the little house,” as she affectionately calls it.
Although she didn’t have a bad experience abroad, Tibisay admits it was difficult to find stable employment. After her baby’s health improved, she decided to return home.
María Fernanda, the eldest, fondly remembers Colombia. She misses the salchipapa—a dish of fries and sausage—that became her favorite meal. Now, in Venezuela, she eats arepas with plantain, cheese, or rice with chicken, whenever possible.
She recalls making friends and going to school there, even though she was still learning to read and write. Back in Venezuela, she enrolled in a local school, but since in-person classes were suspended in March 2020, she hasn’t been able to contact her teacher. The family doesn’t have a computer or smartphone.
Freiner, the youngest, was born with respiratory problems. In Colombia, he received life-saving care. Once he stabilized, Tibisay packed her few belongings and made the long trip back to Venezuela with her three children.
“It wasn’t easy,” she says. “At least over there [in Colombia] I knew my children would have food every day. Here, we never know. We do everything we can so they don’t go hungry—even if it means Franklin and I just drink water and go to bed.”
Faith as Sustenance
Despite their precarious situation, the Barreto Silva family refuses to surrender. Tibisay and Franklin continue to do whatever they can for their children. Every night, after dinner, they pray and give thanks—for what little they have, and for the hope that tomorrow will bring, at least, “a little something” to place on the table.
Agency: ghetto | Photo
Photographic documentary project on social resilience and family life in times of crisis.