It was a wordless ceremony, until a quiet “gracias” is spoken at the end.
I sat on the bench next to a boy with his mother as the busyness of Antigua's town square surrounded us. Locals and tourists converge in this place, and you can't be here for long without someone coming up to you trying to peddle their wares. Every time I stop here, I notice the abundance of shoe shiners. They are boys and men of all ages, hoping to pick up a few coins by doing the dirty work of wiping away the street dust from others' feet.
A boy approaches the mother and son next to me, and with a nod of the mother's head, the transaction commences. It takes a minute for me to get it, to realize what is happening next to me. One boy, on the bench, no more than 12 years old, is getting his shoes shined by another boy of the same age. To my mind, they are the same, they are children. They are peers. But I doubt they see themselves that way.
There is so much in this world that I don't understand.
The shoe-shining boy gives a small gesture with a dye-stained hand, and the other almost instinctively switches his feet. I realize that the rhythm of their movements indicates that this event is one that has been repeated many times before, each boy practiced in his respective role. Although I feel like I'm witnessing a significant social catastrophe, their nonchalance indicates that they are experiencing nothing of the sort. This is normal. This is daily life.
Somehow, it seems okay to me when grown men are earning their living this way. Whether my perception is fair or not, I think that I rationalize that they had choices in life and this is where their choices led them. But, I am at a loss to make sense of this, to understand how it could be right and fair and okay that a boy is here next to me shining the shoes of another boy in order to survive.
The mother silently hands the boy the equivalent of 40 cents for his service, he thanks her, and he moves on.
The day is only beginning, and there is plenty more work to do.
