Habitat Group Gets High Marks for Aid in Tijuana

Just a few months ago, Andres Lara Lozano and his family lived in a dirt-floor residence of scrap wood and plastic. Now the 38-year-old minibus driver owns a sparkling-clean, two-bedroom cinder block dwelling, which he proudly displayed to a visitor.

The Laras--Andres, his wife and their two children--are among 26 families here who have obtained new homes in the past 18 months with the assistance of Habitat for Humanity, a Georgia-based nonprofit group that has spearheaded low-income home-building efforts in more than 2 dozen nations.

Last month, former President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, longtime Habitat supporters, visited Tijuana and spoke with Lara and other new homeowners. In June, the former first couple plans to return and, along with volunteers, begin construction of more than 100 new homes in Tijuana and 10 in Southeast San Diego.

Habitat is one of dozens of U.S.-based groups building houses and performing other charitable works in Tijuana. Although such U.S. organizations are present throughout Mexico--indeed, throughout Latin America--Tijuana’s proximity to California has made it a center for the international helping-hand brigades.

However, Habitat is one of relatively few such organizations that get good marks for their efforts to work with the communities. Other groups have been criticized for dictating their plans to Mexican beneficiaries, sometimes in arrogant fashion.

“There are a wide spectrum of these groups,” noted Victor Clark Alfaro, a cultural anthropologist here who has studied the efforts of the so-called grupos de beneficencia, or assistance groups. “Some create divisions within the communities; others really do provide assistance. . . . They all have good intentions, but often they don’t understand the culture and try to impose their vision.”

On any day, particularly during weekends, young, fair-haired volunteers from a range of groups can be seen throughout Tijuana’s ramshackle hillside neighborhoods, nailing planks, distributing clothing and dispensing medical care. The volunteers are particularly prevalent during the holiday season, especially just before Christmas.

“An Anti-Disneylandia “ is how the spectacle in one community was characterized by Clark, the anthropologist.

The work of some of the groups, although generally applauded for its intentions, has drawn charges of paternalism, cultural imperialism and religious proselytism in intensely nationalistic Mexico. Sometimes, critics say, the volunteers from some good-will groups foster a damaging dependence. In addition, detractors say the groups seeking entree into the neighborhoods often ally themselves mistakenly with political caciques, or bosses, expanding the power base of ward leaders seeking to line their own pockets.

Sometimes there is competition within neighborhoods for the groups’ resources. Clark recalled the case of one man, a resident of a neighborhood known as La Panamericana, who gave up work and relied totally on aid from the groups. He was a living allegory of Third World dependency.

“ ‘I don’t have any more reason to work,’ ” Clark said the man told him. “ ‘One group built our house. Another brings us doctors and medicines. Another brings us clothes. Another brings us food. Another has promised scholarships for my children. . . . And, when I die, another has vowed that I will go to heaven.’ ”

Clark said the man is now dedicated to a more prosaic pastime. Drinking.

“This is an extreme case of the impact of the groups,” Clark stressed, adding that he agrees that many fill a large social service gap.

Mexico’s social service “safety net,” always porous, is now badly tattered, particularly since the beginning of the country’s economic decline in 1982. Welfare payments, home-building loans and other social service efforts well-established in the United States are generally non-existent here, as in much of the developing world. Tijuana, meanwhile, is growing fast, swollen with new arrivals from elsewhere in Mexico. Thus, there is no question that the U.S. groups do respond to a real need.

At the same time, they have been criticized, particularly for their use of religion. Many of the organizations performing assistance in Tijuana are representatives of U.S.-based evangelical sects that, in some cases, have linked their favors to membership in their churches, sometimes as a quid pro quo. Often, the groups are referred to in Tijuana as alleluias, reflecting their religious origins.

Proselytizing by the U.S. groups has drawn criticism from authorities of the Roman Catholic Church, the dominant religious institution in Mexico. The church here is openly concerned about the inroads made by evangelizing Protestant groups from north of the border. Some Catholic residents have also expressed resentment.

“I don’t think it’s fair that some people get houses just for joining a separate religion,” complained Juana Ramirez, a 34-year-old Catholic mother of seven who lives in a neighborhood known as the Eagle’s Nest, atop a hill along the U.S.-Mexico border in eastern Tijuana.

Responding to the threat, the Catholic Church has expanded its own giveaway efforts. In Ramirez’s neighborhood, for instance, it distributed wood for house construction.

Habitat officials say that, in all of their work, they have been careful not to link their assistance to any kind of religious requirement. The group describes itself as an “ecumenical Christian” organization, but says it never makes any effort to convert or pressure anyone to join a church. Habitat receives no government money and relies solely on private donations, officials of the organization say. The Roman Catholic diocese of Tijuana has been openly supportive of Habitat’s efforts.

“We are unashamedly Christian,” said Ken Sauder, executive director of Habitat in the San Diego-Tijuana area. “But we’re not down there trying to proselytize and push one religion. When families move into a home, we give them a Bible and a key. . . . What we’re about is building communities. And, in my opinion, if you build communities, the church will take care of itself.”

Interviews with residents of the Tijuana neighborhood of Matamoros Sur, where Habitat has constructed a dozen homes, indicate that the organization has managed to build considerable support. Even activists who speak harshly of the tactics used by other U.S.-based assistance groups are complimentary when referring to the Habitat approach.

“They don’t practice paternalism,” said Urania Isis Nolasco, a community leader in Matamoros Sur, which is about 15 miles east of downtown, just south of the international boundary and not far from the booming developments of mostly foreign-owned assembly and manufacturing plants. “They don’t tell the people what to do. They work with the community. That is the important thing.”

The neighborhood itself is unusually well-organized by the standards of Tijuana, where so many communities are simply sprawling collections of squatters’ dwellings.

Residents, mostly migrants from deep in Mexico, “invaded” what was government land about three years ago, arriving as squatters. There is still no running water or electricity. Many residents have gained legal rights to their lots in the past two years. The pattern of “invasion” and “regularization” is a familiar one in Tijuana and other Mexican cities as once-rural Mexico continues to evolve into an increasingly urban nation.

In Matamoros Sur and elsewhere, Habitat representatives work with community groups in selecting potential homeowners. The organization builds only in areas where it has been invited, according to Habitat officials. Applicants must have legal possession of their land, must be needy and must be willing to work. They must also understand the organization’s self-help attitude, officials say.

Central to Habitat’s philosophy is the need for families to share in the physical labor of constructing their homes; they are not just to watch from the sidelines as U.S. volunteers build. Prospective homeowners are required to put in 300 to 500 hours of work during construction. The process is often referred to as “sweat equity.”

“This is not charity; people work for everything they get,” said Humberto Ramos, a Habitat official in Tijuana.

The organization provides expertise, supplemental labor and materials. The cost of a home in Tijuana is about $5,000. Homeowners must pay that amount back, usually in loans stretched out over 10 years or more. The repaid funds are plowed back into community projects.

For people such as Andres Lara Lozano, it’s a great bargain, one he can afford on his salary of less than $40 a week. He, his wife and two children moved to Tijuana from Mexico City after the 1985 earthquake there. The new house is on the same site in Matamoros Sur as their former one-room dwelling.

“What we have now is such an improvement,” said Lara, clearly proud of his work and his new home. “This is like a new life for us.”