Life in Bogotá’s ‘pagadiarios’: Where $2 rent buys a night of shelter and little else

Deiro González has seen four men die in his pagadiario — or pay-by-day — room over the past 20 years. Their deaths were often sudden, without goodbyes or mourners by their bedside.

“The last one was Mr. Salgar. It was a natural death,” recalls the 74-year-old.

He is not clear about the exact dates of the deaths, but he is clear about how depressing they felt. “The bodies are picked up by the police and nothing else happens,” he says.

These men who have died in the bed opposite his own are among the dozens of strangers González has roomed with over two decades.

González has nowhere else to go. Without a pension, a job or a family, survival is a daily battle. For 20 years, he has chosen to live in a pagadiario and shares to bring down the cost.

“When I started, it was 1,200 pesos [$0.03] and now the room is worth 20,000 [almost $5],” says the old man as he stands surrounded by unpainted blue walls that open onto a bathroom without a door or pipes.

According to the District Department of Social Integration, there are 4,500 people living in such rentals in the center of Bogotá, representing some of the poorest, most marginalized souls in the city. Many have been homeless in the past and are one step away from being so again. The rooms are often to be found in the old buildings of the Santa Fe neighborhood, the same ones that used to house the wealthiest of Bogotá, which was known as the South American Athens in the first half of the 20th century.

In a bid to highlight the plight of those occupying the pagadiarios, the department started to register them at the end of last year.

“It is an important exercise because the gateway to inclusion is to recognize the other as a citizen,” says Roberto Angulo, current secretary of Social Integration of Bogotá. “According to the count, there are 4,500 people living in pagadiarios in San Cristóbal, Mártires and Santa Fe.”

According to a 2021 estimate, this figure jumps to around 14,219 when taking into account the entire capital. The new census will determine whether the number has increased in the last four years.

The damp building in which González lives has woodwork that suggests a prestigious past. José Ramírez manages the 27 rooms distributed over five floors. He has been in charge of collecting the rents for 23 years and maintaining order. “It’s not easy to work,” he says. “You see a lot of things.”

Everything goes down here: quarrels, romances, drug-induced erratic behavior and death. “Nothing surprises me anymore, except for the deaths,” he adds. Ramírez’s wages help to support his wife and daughters. On a good day, he can pull in more than $100 for the owners.

The District has confirmed that this type of housing is present almost everywhere in the capital, and that prices range from $2 to $14 a day. More than 43% of the inhabitants are migrants who have unstable incomes.

About five blocks from González’s building, there is another pagadiario housing mostly Venezuelans. Nayluz Millán occupies two rooms in which she sleeps with her partner, her three daughters and her mother who suffers from heart disease.

“It’s not easy, but I get a lot of help here and I can pay. I am grateful to have a roof over my head,” says the 36-year-old woman who worked as a nurse back in Venezuela.

Unlike González, Millán’s pagadiario has a small shared kitchen. “I can make breakfast for the girls here,” says Millán whose actual room has no natural light. In the building, almost every family occupies one room.

A few floors up, Carolina Rojas lives with her four children. Since arriving in Colombia, Rojas has had to try to make ends meet alone because her husband left her to cross the Darién Gap, and she has heard nothing from him since. Unlike the other migrants, she does not receive any financial support from the District because her situation is still irregular.

It is estimated that there are more than 430 daily payers in the city center, and 6,500 throughout the capital, according to a 2021 estimate. Each building has its particular demographic. There are pagadiarios housing the elderly, others focused on migrants, others inhabited by sex workers and trans individuals, and others where a room is filled with dozens of bunk beds for which drug addicts pay $2 or less.

Drug use is common among the residents of pagadiarios. Omar Moreno, who lives in a room opposite González’s, calls it a scourge. “Look, we all suffer from the scourge here,” he says, referring to the consumption of basuco or coca paste, the most popular drug among street dwellers in Bogotá.

Despite his addiction, Moreno has managed to pay for a single room for the past 12 years. “I have made and decorated everything that is here,” he says.

He holds his head high as he shows several colorfully painted clocks and a collection of hats hanging on the wall. His crafts have made it feel like home, though it is a home he could lose at any moment, given he is living hand to mouth.

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