Yesterday afternoon I was on the dusty dirt road returning from our Spectrum workday in Ijido.
Barrio Ijido consists of a group of scattered houses connected by rambling rabbit-trail roads. This time year the color of the community is a powdery dirt brown.I
I wasn't going very fast on this long road consisting of thousands of chuck-holes; you take it easy for the cars sake. I noted a bicycle coming toward me on my right and soon recognized the young man as Alex. He waved me over, and with a big smile greeted me. He looked hot sweaty and tired.
Alex lived in one of the humble two room houses back in Ijido that was home to his wife and fifteen year old girl. Often, they had invited us in for a rather sparse lunch consisting of whatever they had on hand, which always included a glass of cola. With no refrigerator or electricity you eat what's on hand.
I walked around the car to talk with him. Alex was returning from work; about a six-mile ride. We chatted a while then; rather impulsively, I reached into my $10. pocket and pressed a ten in his hand, saying it was from God.
Then he gave be a long hug and thanked me. As he looked up at my face I saw the tears start. Seldom have I ever seen a Mexican man cry. His hug was strong and long, his tears streamed down his face. Thank you, thank you he repeated.
Wow! Quite an experience. Totally unexpected.
I have no Idea what that paper ten-dollar bill meant to him and his family, but it evidently meant a lot. He gave me another tearful thanks; picked up his bike and was on his way home.
I packed away another good day.
The bike above? His bike in the muddy winter.
