Trolleys and Salsa Dancing

 "Well the way I feel is the way I write
It isn't like the thoughts of the man who lies
There is a truth and it's on our side
Dawn is coming
Open your eyes
Look into the sun as the new days rise"
 - "Stay Alive", by Jose Gonzalez


    Overall, the public transportation in Ecuador is great. The buses, trolleys, and metros all cost exactly the same:  twenty-five cents. The stops are all over the place and have been fairly easy to learn. The downside, though, is that because it's so cheap and easy, everyone uses it. So the buses and such are usually pretty full.

   There are several levels of a full-to-packed bus or trolley. There is standing-room only, where all the seats are taken and you have  to clutch a pole in the aisle. There is very full, where you have to start pressing past people to get to the exit. One time I was standing sideways, facing the windows, when I realized that the skirt of my dress was draped over the knee of a man sitting in front of me. It was awkward but the bus was so full that there was no where for me to go until the bus reached my stop. Yet people are used to those kinds of close encounters so the man probably thought nothing of it.
   Then there is packed: I'll be waiting on the platform of the trolley or metro stop and see the vehicle pull up, with people packed like sardines, spilling out of the bus and frantically pushing forward to try to squeeze themselves on board. If I hesitate to get on, people standing behind me will push forward and cram themselves in. The doors can barely close before the trolley pulls away from the platform.

   The other night I was waiting for the trolley with three of the Casa G boys. One trolley came but was so full we let it pass.  A second one came and it was the same story. Finally a third one pulled up and one of the boys, Jesus, ushered me forward. I got in and Jesus and Dario squeezed in after me, but the doors couldn't close. So Jesus got off and waited for the next one with Jackson. The trolley made two stops and though some people got off, somehow even more got on. When our stop appeared Dario barely got off, repeating, "Con permiso, con permiso," over and over as he fought to get through the crowd. I tried to follow and literally got stuck between people. I couldn't make it to the door no matter how hard I pushed. The doors started to close and Dario shot his hand forward both to try to reach me and to hold the door, but it closed on his hand. I saw him pull away and shake it in pain. As the trolley pulled away I didn't even have to hold on to anything. I was so tightly pressed on all sides by strangers that I couldn't move, and didn't need a hand-hold for when the trolley rocked and swayed. At the next stop a few people got off and I managed to get out, nearly gasping when I was away from the crowd.

   I turned and walked quickly in the direction of the last stop, where I would need to follow another street up to Phil and Debbie's house for the weekly Tuesday night family dinner with all the boys. It was getting dark. I had walked about two blocks, halfway, when up ahead I saw them: Jesus, Dario, and Jackson. The boys had come for me. I thought they would, yet even so I felt a flood of relief and thankfulness. When they spotted me I just shook my head and they laughed.
   "What happened?" they asked.
   "I couldn't move!" I replied.

   Dario's hand  had obtained a cut in his palm from the door closing on it. He washed and bandaged it at Phil and Debbie's house. That night we had dinner, a devotional, and then pushed back the couch and turned on salsa music so the boys could try and teach me to dance. They are all very good, a mark of having Latin blood, and are eager for me to learn. I am their project, and there is much laughter as they spin me and try to get me to move my hips correctly. My brothers in Ecuador. I love getting to know them. I love being teased and protected by them. I love being there for them to organize events and help Phil manage money and schedules and everything. I love going to church with them each Sunday, and every dinner and meeting in-between. I smile and think how dealing with a group of strangers all touching me, and even getting stuck on a trolley and having to walk four extra blocks is worth it. It's completely worth it.