Little Boys Have Love in Their Eyes
MysteryShrink Short
I’m sitting at an outdoor table along the Plaza de San Francisco in San Luis Potosi yesterday. Weather’s lovely. Colonial churches, cinnamon chocolate in the air, old men hidden in clouds of balloons for sale. A ragged little boy of six or so came by to tell me he was very, very hungry.
What’s five dollars to me? I thanked him for letting me share and he moved on. A few minutes later a man from India at the next table indicated he was having trouble ordering from the Spanish menu and would I help? I said sure (a chance to show off? sure) and we chatted for a few minutes more. Then the same ragged little boy came over to my Indian friend explaining how hungry he was, which is a situation that can be accomplished in universal language. Roja also gave the barefoot child some money.
At that point, across the stone patio, we heard the rough scraping of a metal chair and picked up a whiff of perfume headed our way. The well-dressed woman stood over us.
She said: “You know those boys just go one street over and play bingo with the money you give them.”
Roj smiled, he said: “It is not mine to decide how they spend their money. It is only mine to decide to give it.”
