The Lost Toddler

Last night as Amanda and I were leaving the house to catch the church bus, a little boy toddled past us. The sun already set and darkness upon us, this boy, maybe two years of age at most, seemed to know where he was going. Amanda and I exchanged words between us that the situation seemed strange, even for Guatemala. But we were in a hurry to catch the bus. We continued talking between us of the strange incident as I continued looking back to watch what would become of the little tyke. He turned the corner and headed up toward our back door still appearing confident in his purpose. I looked back one more time out of unbelief of what was happening before my eyes and as he was near our back door he suddenly turned around as if to say, "I am LOST." I immediately, with a quickened pace, walked toward him and, upon reaching him, crouched down asking him, "donde esta su mama? (i.e. where is your mommy)" At that question, the little tot burst into tears and I knew for sure he was lost. He was filthy dirty and probably had dirty diapers as well. I picked him up and tried to reassure him that we were going to find his mommy. As we walked toward a little tienda (i.e. store) near where we had been standing I continued to try to comfort him. I walked into the tienda and asked the grandmother and children if they knew the little boy. They said they did. But when I asked them if they could take him home for me, the grandmother said the children could not leave the house because the parents weren't there. They pointed me in the direction of the boy's house telling me it was the house with the "black doors." Almost every house here has black doors! Amanda and I began walking in the general direction and as we did Sherri came out of our house. I quickly informed her of the situation and asked her to go to the bus stop and ask them to wait for us. As Amanda and I walked toward the instructed location, the darkness continued to cloud our vision making it more difficult to know where to go. I stopped at a friend's house along the way hoping to either give the boy to him or get more precise instructions. They pointed me to go right at the light which is where my friend Mynor lives. "Good! We are getting closer." I thought. As we headed toward Mynor's house another little 10 year old friend, Eber, walked toward us. I greeted him and explained the situation to him, asking him to show us exactly where the boy lives. He agreed and we headed toward the location. As we approached the light where we were to turn, Eber saw a girl, probably 12 or 14 years old. He pointed to her and said, "Hermana! (i.e. sister)" So I asked her if this boy was her brother. As I did she stared blankly at me as though I spoke Chinese or some other foreign language. I tried asking in a different way as Eber reassured me that she was, in fact, the boy's sister. As I handed the boy to the young girl, he began to cry and I felt relief. The girl looked put out but I thanked God that he helped us find this little boy's family. The night was not yet over however. As we got to church I greeted my friend Renatto at the entrance to the church doors. We talked for a minute or two and suddenly there appeared a boy near the bus. I was going to invite him to church and give him a tract but realized that he was crying profusely. As Renatto and I approached him we came to find out that the boy was 10 years old and was crying because he was unable to make any money for his parents shining shoes that day. He was afraid that he would go home and have to confess his failure to his parents and suffer a beating. I asked how much money his parents were expecting him to bring home. He said, "Q10 (i.e. 10 quetezales or about $1.50)." I felt real bad at this time so I asked him how much a shoe shine cost. He replied, "Two quetezales. (i.e. about 25 cents)" I reached into my pocket finding I had only Q3.5 with me so I asked him if he would shine my shoes for that much. He said he couldn't because he didn't have any cafe (i.e. brown) shoe color, only black. In the mean time, Renatto instructed him that it was his parents responsibility to provide for their children and not the children's responsibility to provide for the parents. He instructed him that he should just inform them that there was nobody that wanted their shoes shined that day. That if they beat him, he should contact the police because it isn't right to be beaten for his situation. The little boy, slightly comforted, picked up his shoe shine box and head toward his home. As he was leaving, I asked Renatto if he thought the little boy was being honest and he said he was. How heartbreaking. This little boy is not the only shoeshine boy his age. There are many others in Guatemala, some much younger than him. It is such a shame to see children that young having to work so hard, having such pressure put on them, and missing out on their childhood. Whenever I need my shoes shined and I am near the park where most of the shoe shiners work, I try to have my shoes shined by a younger boy. They will typically quote me a price higher than the going rate and I will negotiate for the normal price. When they are finished with their work I hand them the amount they originally asked for along with a Gospel Tract. Then I pray that they can read it or that someone will read it to them. Life certainly is different in a third-world country...