That’s of course until he had his place renovated, and spent a good amount of money on it, so now, with the inflation and all—everything was going up. So as I was taking out the money to pay him, he said, no, it’s okay if you don’t have it, I’ll take it tomorrow, but I said, naah, I have another 10—I’ll pay you now (in case I forget tomorrow) but he said the thing is I’d rather keep the little change I have left for the people I didn’t know when they’d come in, then spend it on you; after all, you’ll be coming here tomorrow as well, so I’ll take it from you then.
So I said sure, and I went out and sat on one of the stoops, and noticed this guy who I’d always see on the corner there, always with his little cardboard of a shop, and as I was sitting down, he was just getting ready to leave. I thought great; I’ve never really seen him getting up and leaving, so I thought this would be a great new experience for me… I’ve always assumed that it’s just ready for them for some reason, their places of work in the mornings, like say if you and I were going to the office… imagine if for every day for the rest of our lives, we’d have to go to our places of work, and set it all up from scratch!
That’s what these guys basically have to do, day in and day out, and today I was able to see what exactly that entailed… this guy, maybe around 18/19, spent the next half an hour closing shop, which amounted to a kind of a hutment of sorts, which had two bamboo sticks propping up what made up the roof of the place, which was a sheet of plastic I think, and a lot of strings which were tied around to the corners… and then there was the “shoe box” in which he kept all of the tricks of his trade… the shoe-polishes, the brushes, and an assortment of nails and shoe-laces to fix up whatever anyone would bring him.
And what was the last thing he packed up, fastened to his two bamboo sticks actually, but this really tiny straw-sweeper but a much, much, much more tinier version than that, and certainly nowhere near as in such optimal condition. And after he’d finished, he started crossing the road as quickly as he could, to go up stairs to the building across the street which had rooms for bachelors at the top, so I figured that’s where he’d store everything, until the next morning, when he’d repeat the whole process in reverse… and you know what, when he was crossing the street, I couldn’t help it, but this tear started rolling down my cheek.
I mean, here I am, drinking a fucking coke, and there are men, boys really, working so hard to make ends meet, any way they can. I hate people sometimes, they can’t see the fucking beauty right in front of their eyes, but it’s staring right at em… and as I’m thinking this, it’s the same guy who strolls past me, and our eyes sort of meet, and we both kind of smile at each other, and you know what’s the next thing I see… he’s just straddled one of those, although I’m not sure whether it was his, or just a loaner, since the thing would definitely, definitely be out of the reach of most guys, so he must have a very generous and well-to-do friend.
But it did teach me a lesson: it’s always good to have your heart in the right place, but for god’s sake don’t lay it out on the pavement for everyone to trample on, because that’s exactly what’s going to end up happening, even if it’s not intentional.
