I hate Retiro. I hate it. It's disgusting, unsafe and filled with 99% negative possibilities, with the 1% being that you're only there with the intention to leave to a much better location. We arrived 2 hours early after a $20/each cab ride (but hey, if you can't spend $20 on your own protection, what are you spending it on?). I wanted to tell my host family we didn't need to leave so early, but no matter. Luckily there were enough people there at that time of night that I felt some safety in the numbers. We found our terminal and gate almost instantly. Alright, well I guess we'll just sit here quietly while we wait for the bus...
Until we looked over at the shreiking door that was being opened and closed every 5 seconds by a toddler who of course derived great pleasure from the heinous sound and knowing that he was bothering every single person in the room. Yet nobody had it in them to tell him to stop--probably because that would just make him do it more vigorously. Where was his mother or father? We had no idea. Nobody at the gate was rushing to stop him when he started to play with the double door (perfect for crushing toddler hands...) so either his parents didn't care or they weren't there. Neither option seemed right. What if he was an orphan? It was hard to grapple with the idea that a child no more than 4 or so was orphaned to a ratty bus station. I felt bad. No child should have to live that way, playing with obnoxious doors when he should be coloring and learning to read. Yet part of me wanted to throw him out the door because he wouldn't cease his behavior. It was really the worst sound in the world that those doors emitted...
I didn't think things would get worse with this kid until I saw a little girl and her dad walk by and the boy immediately ran up to her and punched her in the face. I thought maybe they were siblings and he was upset with her until the father started screaming at the kid and pushed him away as they quickly walked away. So he just punched a random girl for no reason. It happened again with 3 different kids and I was starting to feel a little uneasy because I couldn't pinpoint why he was violent towards these random kids. He had learned this behavior somewhere and obviously had little concern for causing damage for seemingly no reson...there are probably millions of kids like this around the world that have been raised in such desperate situations as to have already been consigned to this type of life at such a young age. Part of me was ashamed that this is the reality of the world we live in, but part of me felt that even if anyone tried to help him, he was already a lost cause. At age 4...
I was uncomfortable with my calloused view. I'd never confronted something like this and couldn't tell if I was some kind of racist, imperialist, jaded American idiot that felt sad seeing kids like this, but continued to partake in my lifestyle that arguably contributed to their being there in the first place...but then again, capitalism or not, being a loving parent is a necessity that is priceless. And if you're willing to leave your child alone in a bus station at 2am while he hits children, I don't think you deserve to be a parent. The problem is that millions of parents worldwide didn't consciously decide...it just sort of happened, thereby punishing kids that had even less of a choice.
Meanwhile, I started to imagine exaggerated violent scenarios, because if he had no fear of being alone in a bus station at 2am at the age of 4 and enjoyed violence and bothering people, it wouldn't be surprising if he started doing something worse than opening a noisy door...Maybe that sounds judgmental, but those are antisocial behaviors that, if continually cultivated, cause serious psychological issues. Additionally, I've generally been told to especially distrust children and the elderly in this culture, as they're the most unlikely suspects, but can be the most ruthless. I was never happier when a raggedy mother came and grabbed him and he was carried out of my life forever.
The time of our departure was rapidly approaching and our bus had not yet arrived. We passed 2:50, and still it wasn't there. I couldn't stand the thought of being in this bus station for another moment. It was just Angela and me, and being 2 foreign women in this creepy bus station at 3am was looking worse and worse by the minute. Finally the double decker showed up and we took our seats in the front row on the top floor. Angela slept easily while I stared out the window, feeling like I was driving, but 50 higher than everyone else. We passed through countryside and I started to feel confused as one often does at 4am when they feel like they're floating above an Argentine province...Where am I? Where am I going? It was exhilarating.
I wanted to take a picture of the surreal feeling...but wouldn't you know it...the battery I had so responsibly charged for my camera was irresponsibly and accidentally left behind.
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