ESPAÑOL
"El vagabundo Yos"
Era solo una mañana de las tantas que espero el bus bajo un techo para trabajar.
Dos abrigos no eran suficientes para entrar en calor ante el frío viento que penetraba mi cuerpo. Las palomas que siempre me saludan estaban escondidas, esperando que salga el Sol.
Me sorprende una voz congelada a mi lado, un vagabundo que aparentaba de 20 años, descalso y ropas húmedas.
-Usted cree? (Yos)
Mi respuesta fue automática:
-A mi manera-
Se notaba lo molesto que fueron mis palabras para él, pero se interesaba más en preguntarme lo que a mis espaldas se encontraba.
-Eso es una iglesia?-(Yos)
-Es un hogar para ancianos y abajo hay una iglesia-
-Usted cree que si entro me acojan?-(Yos)
-Hable con el sacerdote cuando abran, tal vez te ayude-
Lamentaba dos cosas realmente: la primera fue porque no guardaba conmigo a penas 10 pesos y segundo; aunque los tuviera no serviría de nada.
Deseaba ayudarlo de alguna forma que tuviese peso en cuanto a sus necesidades, porque me cuenta una historia sacada de un drama fantástico:
-Me llamo Yos-
-Verás, mi padre me botó de la casa porque soy cristiano-(Yos)
Mi voz interna me alerta que algo no estaba bien. Nadie expulsaría un hijo por ser cristiano, no era lógico.
-Si es así, es un mal padre-
-No es que sea mal padre, no sabe lo que hace-(Yos)
-Pasé toda la noche temblando que llovió y congelado mis pies no podía casi caminar -(Yos)
La conversación fue avanzando poco a poco, revelando dos cosas importantes que he analizado mientras escuchaba: la persona que estaba hablando conmigo le interesaba más predicarme que enfocarse en su problema actual y que su historia tenía agujeros sin explicar.
Confesaba haber visto ángeles y demonios, haber sido curado del cáncer de riñón, de una enfermedad de transmisión sexual y de relatar lo que sucedía después de la muerte.
Los que lean esto probablemente dirán la absurda realidad mágica en la cual vive este joven y saben qué?...
A quién le importa?...
Miraba convencido realmente de algo, y es que su ropa estaba mojada, esa parte de la historia no era mentira. Sea cual sea su intención de predicarme o hacerme creer lo que su cuerpo ha experimentado, lo que sus ojos han visto, no paraba de pensar en cómo ayudarlo.
Yo no predico, no he visto cosas fantásticas o mágicas; sin embargo soy bueno en lograr una sonrisa y elevar el ánimo de una persona cuando me lo propongo. No deseo mal a nadie en el fondo, aún si es mi peor enemigo.
Me tomó intercambiar un par de veces con él como para que dijera:
-Sabes, tienes buenos sentimientos, no mucha gente escucharía tanto-(Yos)
-Me siento bien hablando contigo, no tengo ni hambre-(Yos)
-Gracias-
-Tal vez un día nos volvamos a encontrar antes de que me vaya del país cuando me reclamen, no olvidé decirte eso, quería decirlo al final- (Yos)
-Bueno Yos, es probable que me veas ya que siempre estoy aquí en las mañanas-
-No me importaría hablar contigo de nuevo-
Cuando se retira le grito
-Ánimo!-
Él se voltea y sonríe...lo que él no sabía era que mi objetivo siempre fue ese, que sonriera y se animara; sin embargo mi otro objetivo más era hacerle saber que estaría todas las mañanas allí, esperándolo para darle lo que en días estoy guardando en mi mochila: unas medias y zapatos.
-Estás vivo Yos?-...
-Aquí te espero por si algún día vuelves-
Para el vagabundo...
ENGLISH
"The homeless Yos"
It was just one of the many mornings I waited for the bus under a roof to work.
Two coats were not enough to keep me warm in the cold wind that penetrated my body. The pigeons that always greet me were hiding, waiting for the sun to rise.
I was surprised by a frozen voice next to me, a homeless man who looked about 20 years old, barefoot and wet clothes.
-do you believe in something?
My answer was automatic:
-in my own way.
I could see how annoying my words were for him, but he was more interested in asking me what was behind my back.
-Is that a church?
-It's a home for the elderly and there's a church downstairs.
-Do you think they will take me in if I go in?
-Talk to the priest when they open, maybe he'll help you.
I really regretted two things: the first one was because I didn't have some money to give with me and secondly, even if I did, it wouldn't be enough for him.
I wanted to help him in some way that would have weight in terms of his needs, because he tells me a story out of a fantastic drama:
-My name is Yos- -You see, my father threw me out of the house because I am a Christian-
My inner voice alerted me that something was wrong. Nobody would expel a son for being a Christian, it was not logical.
-If so, he's a bad father.
-It's not that he's a bad father, he just doesn't know what he's doing.
-I spent the whole night shivering because it rained and my feet were frozen and I could hardly walk.
The conversation progressed little by little, revealing two important things that I have analyzed while listening: the person who is talking to me is more interested in preaching to me than focusing on his current problem and that his story had unexplained holes.
He confessed to having seen angels and demons, to having been cured of kidney cancer, of a sexually transmitted disease, and to relating what happened after death.
Those who read this will probably say the absurd magical reality in which this young man lives and you know what?.....
Who cares?
I was really convinced of something, and that is that his clothes were wet, that part of the story was not a lie. Whatever his intention is to preach to me or make me believe what his body has experienced, what his eyes have seen, I kept thinking about how to help him.
I don't preach, I haven't seen fantastic or magical things; however I am good at bringing a smile and lifting a person's spirits when I set my mind to it. I don't wish ill on anyone deep down, even if they are my worst enemy.
It took me exchanging a couple of times with him for him to say:
-You know, you have good feelings, not many people would listen that much- -I feel good talking to you, I don't feel good talking to you.
-I feel good talking to you, I'm not even hungry.
-Thank you-
-Maybe one day we'll meet again before I leave the country when I'm reclaimed, I didn't forget to tell you that, I wanted to say it at the end.
-Well Yos, it's likely to see me since I'm always here in the mornings.
-I wouldn't mind talking to you again.
When he leaves I call out to him
-Cheer up!
He turns around and smiles...what he didn't know was that my goal was always that, to make him smile and cheer up because he will do well; however my other deeper goal was to let him know that I would be there every morning, waiting for him to give him what in days I am keeping in my backpack: some socks and shoes.
Are you alive Yos?...here I wait for you in case one day you come back.
For the Homeless..