People: Young Subway Singer

Panhandling by young children is quite prevalent in Mexican cities. While many simply stick out a dirty hand and plead with their eyes, some get more creative. One such youngster gave us a great show and a few touching moments in a Mexico City subway car. He had unkempt hair, dirty face, dirty fleece sweater a few sizes too big. Something about him, perhaps his tired eyes or his solemn confidence, seemed mature and I initially mistook him for a dwarf. He sang a song that was equal parts mourning and hopeful. The words I couldn't catch, but the tune still floats in my head. His performance was interactive, and it was then that I realized he was just a child, not even a teenager. He stopped in front passengers and took their heads in his hands, pressing his forehead to theirs and rubbing their hair. He would tightly hug standing passengers, or, as happened to my Scottish friends, would rub their stomachs. People generally just laughed, and while a few gently nudged him away, people were tolerant of his charade and certainly not unkind. Stoic, unmoving faces melted into smiles, silent strangers began to chatter curiously, and the car was filled with a sense of lightness and warmth. He seemed like a little medicine man, chanting and delivering goodwill throughout, clearly wanting money but refusing donations until he had visited every last passenger. When I gave him a few coins, he touched me gently and said, "gracias, abuelito." Abuelito is the diminutive form of the word for "grandfather." I laughed and smiled for some time after, as did everyone else.