For the first time in a long time, I lost my composure in public while traveling. On the economy train from Bogor to Jakarta there are many vendors selling wares : tissues, light up ear picks, flippy floppys, masks, bouncy balls, and food items. After the first few minutes, you become numb to them and simply wave your hand in a "no thank you" gesture like the locals. Then, I looked to my left and saw a young boy, squat on the floor sweeping the train with a broken broom, shaking an empty potato chip bag - waiting for money. He could not have been more than five. One car behind him was his mother, baby in a sarong, doing the same thing. How long had she been on her knees, sweeping between the feet of strangers, hoping for enough coins to feed her family? How long until the baby was out of the sarong and sweeping? How many years would this boy spend crouched, gazing only at knees, hoping for help? How privileged am I to see these things, to remember my fortune, to wipe my tears and walk off the train.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Jun 2013 05:09:04 +0000
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