A little story…
It is a common day, another day of work and using public transport is torture, the train comes slowly to the station of Chacao, and I have finally reached my destination.
Everything happens as usual, I calmly go to the exit as, I go a little earlier -In time, I scold myself mentally. Suddenly something catches my attention and I try to listen better than before, there is something different just today, something that in the months that I transit this station is not familiar to me, or at least not that sound ... it is a voice that shouts: "Mint candies in 100". The strange thing is not the phrase but the small voice that voices that phrase so daily in the -terrible- metro. Curiously, as I approach the exit stairs, I identify the place where that child's voice came from ... a small child, dark complexion and dark brown eyes that dazzle innocence, looking a little more I calculate about 5 or 6 years of lifetime.
He repeated that phrase with enthusiasm while a gentleman asked him for two mint kegs. The bag of these candies was on the wall of the staircase, which was considerably taller than him. I watched carefully as those small feet stood up to catch and count two famous candys to deliver: "here you have, sir", is the response of the boy of the station, two hundred bolivars is the payment and the gentleman says goodbye with a smile of disbelief.
My mind collapses for a moment, I have a brief mental discussion as I climb the escalators, at that moment I think -It is wrong but at the same time it is fine; is wrong because he is a child who should be playing, and well because he is learning to make a living and more in this situation. -That's the reality, I say to try and reassure my mind, the truth I can not find a way to reach an agreement with me.
That boy of the station left much to reflect on in a series of seconds. It is logical to think of his parents, his food and home, that he has at least some money to compensate, and, in this way, you also wonder why he is doing that? Will he like it? Does he do it to help his mom/dad? Why is not he in class? Why is not he playing? Why is not he thinking about the latest Playstation game or if his favorite youtuber has posted something new?
These are questions that remain in the air and will never have answers.
However, all this is something I only see from my point of view, a simple citizen who uses the metro (of which always complains but is the "fastest") and knows well the rules of street vendors. It should not be bought because it increases the number of peddlers in the stations, but how does it stop? I really have no answer for it. It is a fact that day by day they increase the amount of street vendors and children used to beg for alms or selling, like him, in this transport. Enter the discussion again as to whether it is right or wrong to buy that child.
I continue without reaching an agreement
Sadly I think of his uncertain future, in the decisions he can make if he continues on the street, in that life. So many cases like him, not only in my country too in many parts of the world; the boy of the station is only a sample, an image that you can ignore or really take into account to reflect.
I do not know what his destiny is, however, I have always been a believer that we have the tools in life, everything depends on the correct and incorrect decisions we make, and I keep hope that they will always be the right ones in those cases.
Note: Here I leave a work of the Venezuelan Artist Oscar Olivares, soon I will make another publication about this wonderful author.