Little Friendships

"I don't like walking around this old and empty house
So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear"
 - Little Talks, by Of Monsters And Men



I've become friends with a couple of parking attendants who work the street where Casa Gabriel is located. They two of them help direct traffic and show the cars where to park (the street is part residential and part commercial, as many are here; a church, music school, hostel and multiple small restaurants and tiendas are all within throwing range, with people living in the apartments above or beside their shops). They wear orange vests and take small fistfuls of change in exchange for their help in parallel parking and in watching over the cars to try and avoid any robberies. One is tall and gangly, one is compact. We wave and smile at each other as I come and go from Casa Gabriel. They call me Sonia, and I don't correct them. I've answered to many versions of my name.

International Women's Day, March 8th, is a big deal here. All the Casa Gabriel boys were asked to bring flowers to school, which they presented to the female students and teachers. Sometimes there is artwork dedicated to the day which goes up in the parks. It's a day to acknowledge that women matter in our #metoo and #timesup world. Harsh that we need specific days and hashtags to work this out.
That morning, I was leaving Casa Gabriel and my new friends saw me.
"Feliz Dia de la Mujer!" they called.
"Gracias!" I replied. Then, to mark the occasion, they came up to me and shook my hand and patted me on the shoulder, looking me in the eyes with kindness and respect. It was a sweet gesture.


The other morning, I left Casa Gabriel after our weekly staff meeting, a stack of receipts tucked into my purse which I'd organize and turn into an expense report back at home. My friends were standing outside chatting as I pulled the large metal front door firmly closed.
"Buenas tardes!" they called. "Donde vas (where are you going)?"
"I'm going home to eat lunch," I replied. They opened their hands in mock surprise.
"Are you going to make something for us?" one asked.
"I'm just going to make a sandwich is all!" I said, knowing that here, a sandwich is a snack, not a meal. A proper lunch consists of soup, fruit juice or soda, and a plate of meat, vegetables, and of course, rice. It's hardly a meal without rice.
"You look pretty!" one called, gesturing towards my flowered skirt and giving me a thumbs up.
"Thank you! Have a good day!" and we waved as I walked down the street.


This morning, I was in an area near a favorite bakery, so I stopped in and bought two bagfuls of their pan de chocolate to share with the Casa Gabriel boys and team. I bought two extra pancitos, hoping I'd see the parking attendants when I walked to the house. I did.
As usual, they smiled and waved when they saw me. They were surprised by the treat.
Even though I try to walk with purpose and confidence, a stride and attitude which doesn't invite people to mess with me, still it's comforting to believe that if I was in trouble, they would see and help because they know me. A friend in Nicaragua purposefully set out to get to know all the guards in her area, both for this reason and to simply show friendship and love. I thought of her kind example today when giving away pan de chocolate.


I wonder if the two of them were able to graduate from high school. I wonder what other jobs they've had besides helping park cars. It's hard to place their ages, as it is with many people here who have hard lives and spend a lot of time under the relentless Quito sun. One could be in his twenties, the other in his forties, if I were to hazard a guess. But I don't know, and wouldn't be surprised if I were wrong. I saw them often before ever saying hi for the first time. Now I scan the street for them when I'm walking that way, hoping that - whatever their lives have been like and are like - a smile, a wave, an extra greeting may make a difference. I know their small kindnesses make a difference for me.