Nothing was stolen and I wasn´t ever in any real danger. But I had a little reminder last weekend that being an extranjero also makes you a target. It was a good lesson to learn.
On Sunday afternoon I went to the zoo with my family. They planned a nice picnic lunch (we brought the grill to make carne asada), and since we had a lot to carry we took the bus. (Did I mention that my family doesn´t have a car?) Anyway, the bus was very crowded so we piled in and I was standing, pushed up against an occupied seat. All of a sudden, I felt fingers on the side of my leg, trying to open a velcro pants pocket (which only had my cell phone and 3 quetzales inside.) I looked down and saw an older man pull his hand away. I shifted positions so that my pocket and my backpack were out of his reach.
Everything would have been just peachy except that this man was apparently not pleased that I didn´t let him rob me. He started pushing me with his knee, effectively shoving me into the isle and the other people crammed on the bus. Then he stood up and started calling me names, like ¨basura¨(trash) and other things I won´t mention since this blog is rated PG-13. I could smell the sour alcohol on his breath.
At this point I was pretty scared and was wondering if anyone else on the bus had noticed him trying to pick my pocket. Finally he got right behind me and was pushing me, so I pushed him back and said, ¨Qué es tú problema?!¨ Maya, the mom in my family, then noticed there was a problem and moved between me and the man. The man continued to call me names and then the papá in my family started protecting me by telling the bus driver to kick the guy off and yelling at the pickpocket directly.
Thankfully, we arrived at the zoo and it was time to get off the bus. I kept saying, ¨estoy bien, estoy bien¨ to my family. They were really concerned and said that the man was a real rude guy who is not representative of a typical Guatemalteco.
Anyway, for every bad experience there is a good experience that balances it out. At the zoo, everyone had smiles for me, the guy running the bumper cars kept trying to speak to me in English, I rode the slide and the played on the jungle gym with the girls, and then taught them how to play ¨500,¨an old game I remember from the playground.
While we were eating our picnic lunch, a young man (probably 12 or 13) came by with his shoe-shine kit and asked if we needed his services. We said no, so he ambled away and sat down not too far from us. The papá in my family (I know it´s terrible that I don´t know how to spell his name) grabbed a spare plate and started spooning beans and tortillas on it. Then he added freshly grilled meat and some pico de gallo and took the plate and a cup of hot tea over to the boy so he could have lunch, too.
There is a lot of injustice in this country that obviously makes some people angry and some people resentful of gringos or of the ¨ricos.¨ But there is also some kindness and compassion. Ultimately, there are too many have-nots, too many people working three jobs and barely surviving, too many children who don´t have enough to eat, and too many elderly people living barefoot on the street. But you can´t try to fix it all at once. It´s just paso a paso.
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