Tienes cinco pesos?
Que?
Cinco pesos.
That's all he wanted.
5 pesos.
The young boy of 11 had seen us arriving in the wooden row boat and had come running. His face was serious and curious and his eyes followed our every movement as we got out of the boat and walked towards our car.
Cinco pesos. It's less than 5 cents.
I only had a few big bills in my hand that I needed to give to our guides who took us to Los Haitises so I said in my broken Spanish, "No tengo. Es por hombres."
As I walked back to the car I felt his eyes pore through my back. I wanted so badly to give him something so when I got to the car I sifted through my bag and found a one dollar bill.
My flip-flops shuffled through the unpaved lot and I kept eye contact as I approached the boy.
I reached out my hand and asked, "Quieres es?"
What a beautiful smile he had.
I have never seen someone's face light-up the way this young boy's did and I have never seen one dollar mean so much to anyone.
It was bittersweet and I felt both enlivened and saddened that I had the power to transform this boy's day with one dollar bill.
This is tragic.
This is poverty.
