The shoe shiners of San Juan, Dominican Republic
This is an old blog, from November 2006, that I wrote while in the D.R. I want to share this with you because it is a reminder that most of the kids I knew in San Juan are still walking its streets yelling out “Limpo zapatos, limpo botas” (I clean shoes) everyday.
I used to have an atitude of poor people as lazy and stupid. Why else would they be poor? If you have any ammount of work ethic and brains you could make an honest living. In the D.R. God ripped that out of me as I saw these little boys walking miles in one day to earn a few bucks for thier families. Wilkin, Santos, Torku, and Arial are four that hung around us most but I’d guess that in the city there were about 20-35 kids who would walk around with the iconic shoe cleaners box.
Most of them would prefer to go to school but can’t because their families are to poor to pay for the uniform. Parents aren’t left with many options so they make their kids go and try to make enough money for their families to get by (and when I say “get by” I mean this; to eat, buy clean water, and be able to stay in their 10′ by 14′ house). Shoe shinners make 1 to 5 US dollars a day, 5 dollars if you can find a house that has a bunch of shoes that need to be polished and cleaned. 5 US dollars a day is enough to feed a family of four for that day but the lack of education will keep that family in poverty.
Tittled: “Este es el amor de Jesus”
Everyone was standing on the gravel road outside the houses a waiting the rest of our group. Gym-shorts were on everyone and spirits within were high for some exercise that was slightly overdue. Saturday nights are family stadium nights.
Walking along the narrow streets that I am beginning to become very familiar with is a comfort of sorts. The crazy traffic and vibrant house colors strike images of the Dominican culture (loud and proud). In contrast, the mountains in the background constantly radiate an aura of humble beauty and peace that is as old and unchanging as the mountains themselves. Becoming used to this city is like seeing a painting so many times you forget that it’s a masterpiece.
As we continued to make our way to our destination, I looked back at the other half of the group and saw that we had gained two new friends. Santos (age 10), and Arial (age 12) carry boxes under their arms, a reminder of what they do to survive. Along with the over-sized, torn, and dirty clothes the boxes give away their lowly identity in this society. These boys are just two of the many shoe shiners that I have personally met and made friends with here.
I slowed down so that I could walk alongside these boys and learn their names. After asking their names they in turn asked me a question “can you buy me some food?” AIM’s policy for hand-outs is that it shouldn’t be in money form but in food. So we stopped at a corner shop and got some food to go.
The boys were having a hard time eating and carrying their boxes at the same time so I asked to carry Santo’s (picture on right) box. As I asked for it, Arial told me that I should not carry it. Puzzled, I asked. “But why shouldn’t I carry it?”, “Because its shameful. Those who carry it are shamed.” I understood his reply, I had seen people speak down to and yell at these boys in public before but yet I never thought about how these boys viewed themselves. They clean the crap that others step in, how would you view yourself if you did that all day. If the DR has a cast system, these boys are the bottom. They are shoe cleaners.
His reply made me even more determined to carry his box. So I looked into Santos eyes and asked him again “puedo cargar este?”. He nodded and gave it up with a smile. As I took it I wondered how long it had been carried that day, but this thought was cut short as Arial reminded me again how I was bringing shame upon myself. “You shouldn’t do that. Its bad for you”
We came to a group of men sitting on the side of the road playing dominos. They were all laughing and talking loudly…until we walked up, then everyone got dead silent. I said hello and the oldest of them, probably in his 40’s, replied with a grunt. I took it as “what do you want?” but as we continued walking two teens came up and started to talk to Arial. As I watched and listened one turned and said to me in a cocky way, “Are you going to clean my shoes?” I just smiled and said “Of course!” His mouth shut and he looked puzzled at my willingness. I knew he was just trying to embaress me so I smiled, turned and kept walking. Both Arial and Santos laughed, Santos grabbed my hand and smiled at me. I could only hope that he felt better about himself and knew that he wasn’t someone that was shamed.
