In Argentina, the children hustle
The other night while driving to dinner, Alberto was hustled by two poor kids on the street. It was interesting to watch.
We were in his car and it pulled up to the stop light, a little boy, who couldn’t have been any older then eight, ran up to the car with a squeegee, you know the things they use to wash windows. Alberto started screaming for dear life “No, No, No” while waving his hands wildly like a mad ape but the little boy persisted.
He leaned on the windshield staring at Alberto with an expression that said “help a poor kid out” Alberto kept up his frantic pace of “no’s” until the kids squeegee softly touched the windshield. Water begin to trickle down and the kids faced morphed into “how in the world did that happen” it was like a transformation. The boys face stretched and his mouth became sort of oval in shape “look at what I done gone and did.” Alberto placed his head down on the steering wheel between his hands and started to cry. And the hustle was in full throttle.
When the kid knew the game was won he started washing the windshield. From behind the car a young girl, who might have been the boys sister came and threw her squeegee onto my side of the window. I laughed to myself because the two of them reminded me so much of the kids in New York City trying to make a buck. It reminded me of when I packed bags in grocery stores in Brooklyn for tips. An honest days work.
The young girl tried hard to do a good job, standing on the very tip of her toes arms stretched. But all she managed to do was get water and hand prints all over my side of the car. I turn to Alberto “what is she doing?” I was disappointed as I realized that she was a tool being used for sympathy.
This is common in Argentina, you often see children who look homeless begging for money in the streets, its sad not because the kids are poor, that’s a given, but mainly because their parents feel that is the only way to make money. I begin to see the same kids everyday, and noticed their parents egging them on from the shadows. At the end of the day the parents, or guardians of the children who can number as many as ten would gather together and count their earnings.
Anyway, the kids finished up and Alberto gave the brother all the change he had in his pocket, the girl ran across the front of the car to count it with him. The young boy looked disappointed and as we were driving away with my side of the windshield full of streaks and little girl hand prints the boy screamed something at us. Alberto shouted “No! No! No!”
“What did he say?”
“He said the coins were fake!”
Unbelievable.
——–