Lorena is waiting for me at the station, the last station on the line. Suárez has a bad reputation, many people warned me. "Its too dangerous over there, dont go!"
We walk along the canal on the unpaved road full of trash. Many people recognise me and greet me. On one side of the road there are the constructions of the inhabitants. On the other side there is the Canal J.L. Suárez Sur. Thats how they call that opening, with plastic bags and other garbage, there is a small stream of liquid. The smell of burning plastic ensconces directly in my nose. Out of the houses I hear the non-stop rhythm of the Cumbia Villera.
Fidel, who invited me, is already on the football ground. We have to cross the canal to get there. There is a bridge, two balks with some metal plates on top of it. Next to the bridge there is an image of a saint. Lorena touches it and makes the sigh of the cross. "Do you take care, its a bit dangerous," she says when we are balancing above the drain.