A Stranger's Tears

Sunday was a sober day.  After a brief visit my brother was flying home.  Time flew by, but the time spent was stuffed full of things to see and comprehend.  Delayed flights, tacos, sounds, smells, ancient ruins, blue corn potato quesadillas, corn fungus, beers, Mordo and Lulu, boring films, real Mexican jumping beans, reggae history...quite a bit and then some.

It went too fast.

We dropped him off in the early afternoon and headed back into town.  I had started to become quiet early on, I suppose it was partly due to sadness.  Whenever people come and go, it leaves me feeling empty and lost.  Today was no exception.  My brother was on his way home.  At least it was sunny and a beautiful day.  We drove home in virtual silence.

After sitting around not talking for a while, we agreed we should get out and walk.  maybe we would swing by the market and see what was going on.  We strode down the worn path towards the market.  Sundays are different there, it is more crafts and goods than bad paintings and art wank.  We had a small laugh on the way down, wondering if the panicky coffee vendor would be scurrying around the square in his kidney belt, asking you in gruff  hurried tones if you want a water, soft drink or coffee.  He never stops to see what you reply, he just keeps pulling his small trolley with bent wheels, acting as if there is somewhere important he must be.

We strolled along the line of booths, stopping and looking at whatever caught our eyes. There were some cozy looking slippers and giant woolly socks.  I make a mental note to return and buy some for myself.

To add to the emptiness, we are eating leftovers tonight.  We have to get a few things so we go to the regular food market.  We stop and look at the pirate DVD vendor, but he's got nothing good.  Tonya grabs some cigs and asks if I wanted a coffee.  Why not?  We step into the tiny coffee shop and a man with no front teeth notices my t-shirt, "Black Sabbath!  Black Sabbath" he says in a heavy accent.  I give him a thumbs up and he looks at Tonya and says a little rhyme or joke.  It makes her laugh.  he laughs too, and that is when I notice he has no front teeth...just a black hole where white calcium once was.  He asks me something I don't understand.  I shrug my shoulders as Tonya tells him that I do not speak Spanish.  "You are an American?" he asks.  I shake my head 'yes'. "Which country are you from?"  I think for a split second, he must mean what state, so I answer him "Texas".  He nods in agreement.  "You are from Texas!" he says to confirm, then asks "Which country are you from?"  I look at Tonya.  "He means city" she says assuredly.  I look at him and say, "Houston".

"Aaahhhhh" he says, almost as if he is about to have a fit.  He shakes his hands.  He raises his hands up, holding something rolled up in them.  His 'aaah' starts to turn to a somewhat sinister laugh as he brings his hands down and unrolls what is in his fists.  "It is a beautiful place...Houston", and he unfurls a magazine.  It is a tourist guide magazine to Houston!  he tells me he has a very good friend there, who works for NASA.  His friend is the son of a famous Italian (makers of espresso machines) and he is a psychiatrist.  He deals with the astronauts pre- and post flight.  Sounds interesting.  He finishes his story and then says he must go.  He stands and says a polite goodbye to Tonya.  he turns to me, shakes my hand and says goodbye.  As he walks away he turns to me and leans towards me.  he pauses to think of how to say what he wants to say, "I welcome you to Mexico" he says.  I tell him thank you.  He turns and walks away and we head to the square to sit and drink our coffee.

Sure enough, after we sit for a while and people watch, the hasty coffee man comes up, giving us a sideways glance and announces he has drinks and coffee. We just turn to look at one another and smile.  A kid is kicking a soccer ball against the stage in the square.  Couples walk past, a man is sleeping across the sidewalk from us.  All of this augmented by the soundtrack of a salsa band at a nearby restaurant.  It is a nice way to while away your afternoons.

When the coffee is gone, Tonya asks is we should head home.  I have had a few smiles and seen a few more characters, all helping to lift my spirits.  We start off and take a back street to wind back homeward.  We talks as we walk, discussing some of the people we had just seen.  We talk of a huge house we pass.  I see a small man walking down the street.  Something about the way he is walking says he is not enjoying his stroll like we are.



The little man is lost.  he has been walking for hours, and has just found out he is hours walk away from where he need be; the airport. He fights back the tears, and hurriedly sticks his small dirty hands into his front pocket, and pulls out a dirty, sweat smeared note.  He shakes as he unravels it and hands it to Tonya.  She is visibly upset as she reads it.  He stands there, heaving heavy breaths as Tonya takes a moment to read the note written in pencil.  The handwriting looks a bit childish, or should I say 'simple'.  He looks at me while Tonya is finishing.  It is obvious he has been walking a long time, and crying in the process.

Tonya sighs and tells me briefly what the note says, 'This is a good man.  He arrived from Oaxaca.  He came on a bus and was robbed at the bus station. They took everything he had on him.  He was told he would have to pay money to get a bus back to Oaxaca.  Please help with directions back to the bus station.'   Tonya is upset and listens to the man as he continues to talk now that she has finished.  He is slightly shaking.  He stares at us like an abandoned dog.  Tonya tells him that we will walk him through the neighborhood, and he is relieved for the kindness of these strangers.  As he walks, he tells Tonya how they roughed him up and took his things.  His voice cracks and he tears up.  He looks at me as he tells Tonya and he motions at his wrists and pulls on his shirt.  We walk a short way with him until we get to s split in the street.  Tonya stops and points him down the street.  'You walk all the way down this street.  It will hit the freeway.  Then, you can turn right and follow the freeway...'  He shakes his head and repeats the directions.  He asks how far the destination is. It is far. Tonya stops him just as he starts his new journey along the freeway. 

"Here" she says as she opens her purse, "let me give you a little bit of money to help"  He is startled.  He uses a term that Indians from Oaxaca use.  His eyes are glaring, he stands as if he is naked and without a single possession and asks Tonya pointedly, "What?  How can I possibly repay you?  I have no money, I have nothing..."  It is ok.  Tonya tells him she wants nothing back.  She hands him some money humbly accepts.  His eyes are tearing up again.  He puts it in his pocket and nods his head.  Tonya says goodbye and wishes him luck.  He goes straight and we go right.  His head is low and his walk determined, but obviously somewhat forced.  He has been beaten, and is now having to retrace steps that brought him here.  He is unwelcome and  scared.  He moves straight ahead.  As we watch him walk away, Tonya says she is about to burst in to tears.  She expresses her concern and hopes he makes it.  I do too.


That simple encounter was a sobering thing.  It is not easy handling an obvious stranger, way out of place and obviously taken advantage of, as he stares at you with pleading eyes, asking nothing but directions.  He has no clue where he is, and all he wishes is to return from where he came.  He just wants to get home.  A little man on an empty street with tears in his eyes just turned my day upside down.  I felt an overwhelming urge  to share in his same plight. I just wanted to go 'home'.