Lost Souls

I want to tell you about Daniel. I’ll try to make it quick.

I pulled up to my house with one of our regular drivers back in Oct 2020, there was a thin, gaunt young man, maybe early 20s standing in front of the house. Wearing clothes a step-up from rags, he proceeds to share his sad story with me. Something about losing his permit for his vegetable cart and being unable to work now.

I started asking him questions, and asked why he was at my door of all the others around. He said I bought vegetables from his cart during the lock down and I seemed nice. He and his brother in law were selling vegetables in our barrio. To be honest, I had no recollection of him, could be true, but with all the masks across faces back then, it’s hard to say who I met.

We spoke back and forth maybe 10 minutes. He gave me a phone number and Randy handed him some food, to bring home to his child. I asked my driver to bring Daniel to La Libertad to find out how much the permit was for his cart so he could continue working. I didn’t want to see $50 or something similar keeping this young man from feeding his family. Off they went, a smile, a hug and some food for his child.

He’s a pretty smooth liar

The driver quickly returned and said, he’s a liar, he got out of the car in la Libertad with the food and ran away. I thought, you little lying F*CK*R. He was a pretty smooth liar, I believed his sad tale. I then decided to phone the number he had given me, surely it was a bogus number… and what do you know, a woman answered!

Me: “Do you know Daniel? He gave me your number.”

Her: “Yes that’s my son, why?”

Me: “Well, he came to my house telling me a sad story, then when I tried to help, he ran away with the food I gave for his child. Does he even have a child? Does he have a food cart with no permit?”

Her: started sobbing deeply; “I’m so sorry, He’s a drug addict, I don’t know what to do anymore. I try to help him, but he lies and steals from me. Yes he has a child, the baby is here with me. I try to keep my children fed, but it’s so hard”… sobbing harder now. “Yes there was a cart, but it’s not his. I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I have so much shame.”

Me: “Do you have food right now for you and the child?

She explains she lives near Escuela Cando. I know the area, not anywhere you want to be walking alone or at night for sure. I pass through it often, and I know it’s dangerous and I know this grey-haired, tattooed gringa stands out down there.

My driver brings me to the mercado near this ladies home and off we go to deliver the food. She seemed surprised, and cautious at first, wondering maybe if I brought police. Then she starting sharing some of her situation about her drug addict son.

It’s a world-wide shared pain.

It’s the same story any mom from anywhere in the world may tell, terrified that she will lose her son to the drugs. This was not a uniquely Ecuadorian experience. I gave her a couple numbers to call, maybe they can help, I have no idea. We dropped off the food and of course, shared hugs as I wished her well. It’s really out of her hands at this point. I just wanted to show her some kindness, I could feel her grief and shame through the phone.

I shook off the experience and my driver is like, I can’t believe you went to see his mom. He still laughs about that.

Fast forward about a month later:

I’m on the beach with a couple of the barrio kids and who happens along, Daniel. At first he doesn’t recognize me, and he starts again with his same sob story. I stop him and say “Daniel, I know you’re using drugs. I went to talk to your mom you know, I brought food.”

It then dawned on him who I was. He apologized, thanked me for helping his mom. He proceeded to explain he does do drugs but he is trying to change. He walked back to my house with us and I gave him a couple fruit, a few slices of bread and a can of tuna. I thought this way he is more likely to eat it.

Fool me once, fool me twice…

I carried on with my day and soon went to the malecon in la Libertad to eat. Who do I see on the street, Daniel, with a can of tuna in his hand trying to sell it! I was like, you lying little F*CK*R. He didn’t see me, but I saw him. I left it alone and didn’t call the mom. She doesn’t need to know everything he is up to. It will only cause her more pain and shame for something that she is unable to control.

Fast forward yet another month;

Who knocks on my door again, Daniel. He starts again with his sob story and I stop him mid-sentence.

Me: Look Daniel, you’re a drug addict and a liar. I gave you food to eat and I saw you downtown selling it. I’m not giving you anything else. Don’t come back here unless you are working” And I closed the door in his face.

….. and damn, if he doesn’t return a few days later selling garbage bags!

Fair enough, I had told him he needed to be working, so… now I own more garbage bags than any one person needs. He comes by regularly, selling these bags for $1.00. I would buy at least 5 bags, until I was so full of bags, Randy begged me to stop buying them.

Daniel comes by so often that he now knows me by first name and he calls it out like a gringo, shouting from outside! I hear a familiar voice yelling ‘Dodie’ a couple times a month now. Tonight, Randy says, your drug addict friend is here hahaha.

The fact that he is still alive is a feat.

Daniel has expanded his efforts and he now will sweep the road and sidewalk which saves me from buying more bags. He does a truly excellent job. He doesn’t skimp or hurry. I think I might call his mom one day to tell her what a good worker he can be. I pay him for the amount of work he does. I never have to correct the work, he does a thorough job when he comes. I always give him lunch that is not easily sellable. I never allow him on the property; we converse on the street. I tell him to eat the food with my motherly finger wag, don’t sell it! He lies to me and says he will eat it and off he goes.

No-one can save him.

I certainly can’t change him, I can only show him kindness. Unfortunately he is one of the ‘hacheros’ like so many that hang out around the la Libertad market by the Tuti. I know that familiar ‘Dodie’ call will just stop one day, as the drugs have grabbed him by the soul and will not let go. It will eventually kill him and he will just stop coming by.

From time to time, I go down to that area of town and hand out oranges to the lost souls crowded together on the streets. You can buy a bunch of oranges for $5. I throw a few to each person. I always say, don’t sell it, eat it, you need your vitamins. Give some to your friends, as I point to the ones that are passed out on the sidewalk in drug stupors.

They are reminded of their humanity.

Just the fact that someone spoke to them in their face, reminds them of their humanity. The vendors have asked me if I’m scared, I said no, they don’t mean me any harm. They are humans beings that have lost their way. Even the gangs don’t want these types of souls. I look for Daniel when I’m down there, but I have never seen him. He must be on a different corner than where I go.

I used to do the same when I visited Vancouver, East Hastings area. Street after street of lost souls there too; needles in their arms, crack pipes, sketching out, scratching sores, passed out on the streets. I used to call it the gratitude walk, or drive, with my son. To show him that the difference between us and them, are simply the decisions we make.