An experience with child labor

In my blog entries I usually focus on positive things, especially the activities that I participate in. My intention isn't to be misleading--the fun activities are generally what I'm most excited to tell you about--but I realize that it results in you having a somewhat skewed perception of my travels.

For example, I haven't mentioned the trash that is dumped all over Guate due to the pueblos not having adequate trash removal services. Nor have I told you that if another man blatantly stares at my body as a walk past him, I might punch his eyes out. Or that I'm sick of seeing men peeing along the side of the road. Or that when I blow my nose, it's black from all the pollution.

I had a really terrible experience yesterday, and I've decided to share it with you so that you can better know the good and the bad of traveling to (and living in) Guatemala.

Earlier in my trip I heard a news report about child labor in Guatemala. According to the World Bank web site 20% of children in Guatemala between the ages of 7 and 14 are employed. I'm not talking about having a one-day lemonade stand in order to get a little spending money; I'm talking about working (and often not attending school) in order for the family to survive.

Other than the obvious feeling that children deserve to have a childhood, this is bad because education is the key to getting out of poverty. And when children work and don't attend school, it becomes a continuing cycle. But when the family needs the child's work in order to survive, what other options do they have?

Most of these children work in the agriculture sector, but I've witnessed numerous who sell items and services. For example, one Sunday morning in Xela I saw a very young boy selling newspapers on a street corner. And by "very young" I mean about 7-8 years old. On numerous occasions I've experienced young girls walking in parks and other touristy areas trying to sell handmade goods. And I regularly see children helping to sell street food.

Yesterday I went to the main square in Antigua and bought some mango ice cream. (Yum, by the way.) I didn't want to walk and eat at the same time, so I sat down in the Central Park. Local people are constantly trying to sell things to tourists in the park, and I had honestly already been asked at least 30 times over the course of the day to buy something (scarves, cashews, blankets, whistles, jewelry, etc.). So I intentionally pulled out my book and began reading it, hoping to not be bothered. It only worked for a couple minutes.

An 11-12 year old boy walked up to me and asked me if I wanted my shoes shined. (Shoe shining is a regular occurrence in the park.) I was wearing an old pair of sneakers that Dave told me to throw away a year ago. There was no reason why I needed them shined, so I told him no thank you and turned back to my book. Saying "No, gracias" is usually sufficient and the vendor will go on to someone else. Then he asked me if I wanted to share my ice cream cone with him. He had an ornery grin on his face so I thought he was kidding. Plus, an ice cream cone isn't exactly something that you can cut in half. So I smiled and said no.

Then the boy sat down beside me. I was annoyed because I had said no politely, and he was about to keep pushing me. And I had already been asked so many times to buy something. I didn't look at him and continued to read my book. He asked me a couple questions (e.g. Where are you from?) and each time I answered him and then turned back to my book. He asked me again if he could shine my shoes and I again told him no. He asked me again to share my ice cream cone and it was then that I realized he wasn't joking. But I didn't get the impression that he was starving; rather his attitude clearly demonstrated that he thought I owed him the ice cream. By then he had gotten on my nerves and, quite frankly, I didn't want to share my mango ice cream. I told him no again and yet again turned back to my book.

His voice turned whiny and he asked me why I wouldn't let him shine my shoes, and I responded, politely but firmly, that it was because I didn't want them shined. He waited about a minute longer, then stood up, turned toward me and shouted, "Then f*** you" and walked away.

I continued looking at my book and didn't outwardly respond in any way. But, of course, inwardly I was a mess. I was incredibly angry at him, but at the same time I felt some empathy.

Over the past 24 hours I've gone over the whole experience numerous times in my head. Should I have let him shine my dilapidated sneakers? Should I have given him my ice cream cone? Should I have just given him some money? Should I buy from everyone who asks me to buy from them? That's not realistic. But how do I know who really needs help?

I have tentatively come to the conclusion that I did the right thing. (But that doesn't mean that I don't still feel like crap.) I honestly didn't need the service he was providing. And I've read several articles in the past that ask tourists not to give money directly to children because it further encourages them to continue working (or begging) and not attending school. As I said before, education and knowledge are key to getting out of poverty.

It is true, though, that I am rich compared to him. And he may be caught in that continuing cycle. I can help him (and others like him) indirectly by giving money to a local community organization. When these organizations provide families with necessities, the children aren't forced to work for survival and have more opportunities for education. I plan to research some organizations when I get home.

I'm open to feedback. If you disagree with me or have suggestions for how I can better handle situations like this in the future, let me know.