perspective, again

i tutor a little boy twice a week in the outskirts of the city, and the family's chauffeur picks me up from school and brings me home when i'm done with my tutoring sessions. though they live far away, and often i am coming home in trafico, it's been really nice to be able to talk with the chauffeur (and that's definitely been my favorite part of this whole arrangement.) at first, he wouldn't talk at all, only couple word answers to my basic questions (although perhaps my questions were so basic that they only garnered short answers!) but, we eventually got comfortable enough with each other (and i regained some lost conversational spanish) so that we can ask each other deeper questions.

i know about his family, his darling little girl, his beautiful wife and also his general feelings about life in g-holla. he's asked me about life in the US, my general feelings on a lot of issues, politics, and once he blurted out, "now are you Sure you don't have a boyfriend?" haha, that's pretty comfortable, no? not only has it been a built-in spanish lesson, but a cultural one as well, and it's been nice to get his perspective from his shoes as a poorish person who scored an awesome job working for a fair employer in the big city.

the other day, just as the car was exiting the black wrought iron gate, he said to me, "s, i am very sad right now." of course i followed up with that, and he said, "i just found out in the last hour that my good friend from childhood was murdered."

good Lord. his friend had been driving a tuk-tuk in one of the zones of the city when young gang members approached him, robbed him and killed him. it had just happened, so the chauffeur didn't have much details beyond that. this friend had a wife and four children (oldest 18, youngest 2) and had been harassed by these gang members before. the chauffeur's mother had called him to break the news, crying inconsolably since this friend was like another son to her, so he was unclear on a few things.

as he told me this story, his voice rose and fell, and at times he was so obviously, and understandably, overcome. he talked more about life in the city, and in the countryside, and how this should not be. "God is the only power able to save this city, nothing else," he said. the injustice, not just the sadness, of the whole situation was most striking. upon arriving at my building about 20 minutes later he was pretty much weeping, and if you know me, i had been trying to hold it all in since we left the house. our good-byes usually consist of "take care of yourself, happy night, see you next week, first to God/Lord willing." on that evening outside of my building, i had no idea what to say, no idea what to do (culturally: male/female, class/SES, work situation.) as he handed me my bags from the trunk, i just put my hand on his elbow and told him that i would be praying for the friend's family, and for his family as well. he nodded silently, pressed his lips together sadly and then got back into the car.

this week, when i saw him again, i asked about the friend's family. it turns out that it was a case of mistaken identity, that the gang had actually intended to kill someone else. the family had received word that night that it was all a mistake, that the friend/father had been wearing a similar outfit as the intended. the next night, the gang got who they wanted.

"no debe ser..." it should not be.

now, while i know that story might alarm some of you enough to offer me plane tickets home (which would still be accepted for next december!) i want to assure you that i live in one of the safest zones in the city. i'm living what i call the "disneyland version" of the g-town life... i'm still not totally immune to the safety issues here, but there is some distance and i'm super cautious. my friend likens it to being like Jason from the Bourne Identity movies: we have to be constantly vigilant and hyper-aware of our surroundings as we navigate life here, ready to make difficult but correct choices. it's been tiring, and when i have a lapse in vigilance, i usually realize it pretty quickly and it feels weird that for one minute, i was out and about with no eye on those around me. this was most striking for me when i went home during Christmas-- that i was driving at night, walking around the city, etc.

i think it's been important for me to see this perspective, even though i do not see it as honestly as most people here in this country do, because, as i said, i'm in the disneyland sector of the city. i'm trying to understand what it's like to really weep for the future of your children, to mourn the truly senseless loss of a childhood friend, to be hyper-vigilant of everyone around you. as a person firmly planted in the middle class of the US, these are not things that i've had to deal with, and hopefully this will open my eyes on a few things.