los ninos

I really like what my friend Marella wrote the other day when we did that exercise in the plaza:

"There are many children here but there is a division. Some are in school uniforms attending institutions of learning, the others are selling handwoven belts and blankets, and cleaning shoes. Why do some have the ability to be children? To play and learn while others have acquired more struggle and maturity than me? I think inequality is more evident here or maybe I am less numb to it because of my intention here."

When we got back to class that day we found that many people had written about children and that it is something that we have all thought about. There really is almost a strategy to the work that these children do. They all seem to whine when they ask you to buy things, or when they ask for money for their tortilla. Matea, a fellow student, also pointed out that when we respond to the children’s whining, we ourselves also whine, saying things like “lo siento” and “son muy bonitos pero no gracias” in the same manner and tone as the children.
My first experience of this was in Cancun at the bus station. A little girl asked me for one peso, so I gave it to her. She went back to her mom and 3 sisters and then a few minutes later returned to ask me for my water. I ended up giving her my litre of water, knowing that it would quench her whole family’s thirst and that I could easily buy a new bottle for 6 pesos.
So last night I was sitting and eating at TierrAdentro when about 6 little Mayan children came up to me to try to sell me their bracelets and belts. I had a table to myself and had all of my work and things spread out on the table and a chair. Anyway, I had a bunch of bread, tortillas, rice and curried veggies left from my gigantic meal. I introduced myself to Elena, a very beautiful Mayan girl who’s probably about 10, and asked her if she would like some food.
Elena, her sister and about 5 little boys, the youngest probably being about 4 joined me for food. Three of the boys climbed up on the chair, on top of my books and stuff, to eat some bread, tortillas, rice and vegetables. I fed all of us on about 40 pesos.
Then, Jose, a boy of about 10 or 11 who walks around selling candy and cigarettes , came up to try to get me to buy some stuff. When I told him no, he tried harder and whined more. Then he told me that he was thirsty and that he wanted juice. So I told him to go order a juice and say that I’d pay for it. The waiter, already having seen me feed the village, came to make sure that I’d pay for it, and then Jose sat with me and we drank juice. He’s from Chamula, a town outside of San Cristobal and he comes into the city everyday with his brother to make money. He said that his dad is a carpenter in Chamula. I asked him if he eats a lot of candy and he said no, but I didn’t really believe him since he was chewing a huge wad of bubble gum. I told him I was from Canada and he asked me “tienes mucho dinero?” This was a really hard question because by North American standards, I don’t feel like I have a lot of money…but what do I say to Jose?
Elena and a bunch of the other girls sell their crafts in the market and one night last week when we were going out they tried to get us to buy their blankets. They used the voice and say "Compra, compra esa manta" and then we say no they started to joke with us. They threw the blankets on our shoulders and ran away, then it became a game of us throwing the blankets at each other and giggling. It was a really interesting experience to see these kids laughing and playing, as normal children should do.