Today I made a friend. We didn’t exchange names, and to him I was just “Tia”. I was on the beach, alone and reading my book when my little friend approached me. I was ready to say “No, obrigada” while avoiding eye contact, as I do with every other overly persistent vendor on the beach. But I noticed he was a child, so I listened.
He asked me to watch his stuff while he went to “tomar um banho”. In Brasil, we use the phrase “take a bath” when referring to swimming as well as literally taking a bath (in your shower). His stuff consisted of the clothing he was selling on the beach to make money for his family. Although I didn’t ask, my guess is that he was about 10 or 11 years old. Ten years old, and working on the middle of what should have been a school day.
I told him that I would watch his stuff and make sure it was safe while he swam. He dropped his stuff, tightened the strings on his sunga and took off towards the ocean. For a brief moment, in his exhilarating sprint from me to the first breaking wave, he was a kid again. In an odd way, I felt responsible for him, so I watched each dive and breath he took. I watched him swim for over 40 minutes, during which he started to play with some American children - clearly tourists in Bahia. It was apparent from the beginning of their “playing” that my little Bahian friend was different. Where the American children played with him as if he were none other than their next-door neighbor in their cute, suburban town, my Bahian criança was clearly aware of the difference in culture, in color, and in life. There were fewer smiles and hesitant laughs.
He came back to me and thanked me. I assured him that it wasn’t a problem, and asked how his “bath” was. He smiled and said “foi muito bom”! I watched him clear off a piece of wood on the ground next to me and lay down, face up, without a towel to “bronzear”. This warmed my heart because I fully expected him to take his stuff back and head back to work. I was happy for the company.
Within minutes another beach vendor approached me selling “salada de frutas”. My little friend caught my eye and I knew he was hungry after all that swimming. I slipped him R$2.00 and watched his grin as he jumped up off his piece of wood to proudly purchase a fruit salad for himself. Within minutes it was finished. He thanked me and sat back down.
We laid next to each other in silence for a bit and then I started to reapply suntan lotion. He asked if he could use some too. I smiled to myself because this little boy was so dark that it would be impossible for his skin to burn… or so I thought! J I teased him and told him that he was too “Moreno” for sunblock. He smiled but insisted that his face needed some. So of course, I shared. He splashed way too much lotion all over his face, his arms, his stomach, his legs… everywhere! Unfortunately, this priceless moment wasn’t caught on camera because I usually don’t bring mine to the beach.
He left me within the hour, we shook hands and that was that. I like to think that he felt happy about our interaction. I hope that my ability to speak Portuguese and my willingness to help and to share made him feel positive about his interaction with a “tourist”. I wish I could have asked him so many more questions. I want to know his name, and his age, and his story. I want to know if he has ever gone to school, and how many siblings he has. I want to know if his parents are still alive, and if he has running water in his house. These are questions that I will never have answers to, nor would they have been appropriate to ask at the time. I can only hope that his work, selling t-shirts to tourists on the beach in Bahia, helps his family in a constructive way. Pelo menos, eu espero que ele esteja aprendendo coisas que irão lhe deixar uma vida melhor.
