Boy on the Bus


This might be the most important picture I took on my trip to Brazil and yet it’s the one with the worst quality. I blame the bumpy ride, both literally and figuratively, that led me to take this picture. I suppose let me start at the beginning.

After spending the day touring the favelas of Rio and laying out at the beach, we had worked up quite the appetite. We headed to a restaurant we had dined at before and I ordered the same meal, the feijoada. That had to be my favorite dish for sure and specifically from this restaurant. (See map). And true to form, we had to wait quite awhile to get our food, and I of course received my meal last, to which I said was because they were putting more love into it. Anyway, the food finally came and we were stuffed but were looking forward to hitting up the frozen yogurt place next door. We paid the check and tried to digest a bit as we took the few steps over to the frozen yogurt shop. We joked about how we were going to get fat but fought over who got more toppings on their ice cream and therefore, who the cashier liked better.

Soon we needed to head back since it was getting dark and the bus ride was going to take 45 minutes to get home. We stood at the bus stop, enjoying our ice cream and our one friend joked that we looked like little kids who were happy as can be. I suppose at that time it was just what I thought I needed.

As we got on the bus I realized how full I was getting and was hoping I would finish the ice cream soon so I wouldn’t have to hold on to it the whole ride. My one friend found a seat in the back row of the bus and a young boy, about 14 years old, got up from his seat, wiped it off and let me sit down. He then moved to a seat in front of me as to let my friends and I sit together. I was surprised that this young boy had such manners and I wondered why he was so courteous to wipe off the seat. I looked at him, while I scooped a spoon full of my ice cream, and realized he was a bit sandy. He must have spent the day at the beach, I thought to myself. He then proceeded to talk a little bit with a few other boys on the bus, which I put together as his brothers. I started to pay more attention to my surroundings than to my ice cream, which I decided I didn’t really need to eat anymore even though I had plenty left since I got a large size.

That’s when I noticed the details. The boy’s shirt was a little ripped on the shoulder and I looked down to see that he didn’t have any shoes on. I paid more attention to the boy’s brothers to see that behind them they were holding up two large, garbage bags that were filled with something. That is when the wind blew through the bus window and I could smell the contents of the bags, cans. Soda and beer cans that the boys probably spent all day picking up along Copacabana Beach as the tourists enjoyed their vacation in a drunken stupor, watching the World Cup games and cheering on their teams while making a mess. I suddenly was sick to my stomach.

I started to remind myself of how I had spent the last few hours stuffing my face with food that I was soon going to complain that I had to work off. I started to think that I had spent a decent amount of money on this trip so that I could have a good time and learn about another country. And here was a boy that had to spend all day collecting garbage so his family could make a few bucks. The guilt set in and many thoughts ran through my mind. I did all that I could to not start crying.

The bus must have hit a bump and everyone was slightly jostled around. At that moment the boy turned around. He looked at my friend, who smiled and gave him a friendly wave, then at me. He looked with interest as to whether or not I was going to finish my bowl of ice cream. I offered my leftovers to him and he replied with the most genuine thank you I have ever received and gobbled up every drop of what was left. I sat in shame as I thought if I could have offered him the ice cream sooner, or if there was something more I could do. Why hadn’t I been more thankful for the things I had? What could I do to make it so that no one, especially no child, would have to live like that?

The bus stopped and the back doors opened. A man who must have been a street performer, the ones that dress like statues that you can take pictures with but only if you pay, got on and brought on all of his props. The most distinguished and troublesome of them all were large angel wings. That’s right, angel wings. He put them in the center aisle and the boy and I held them into place. I thought to myself at that moment, if I ever needed a sign, this was it.

The ride continued and the passengers got on and off. The boy helped explain to us how far we were from our destination and which stop was the best to get off at. He was kind, quiet and sincere and I could see that he was a truly good kid. We eventually got to our stop and said goodbye. My friend offered him a few reais she had in her pocket and we left.

There are some things that are very meaningful and happen when you least expect it. I guess, like angels, some people just sweep into your life and leave imprints that give you a little bit of understanding, and it is for us to learn from it, and pass it along. I know there wasn’t much that I did for the boy on the bus but there was a lot that he did for me.


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