Red Lights, Jasmine, and Contentment

If I had a camera at the time, I would have taken their picture. But still, I don’t know if the photograph would have captured the scene as I really saw it. Here is a picture of some other street kids during the day…just to provide somewhat of a visual.

There they were ~ two Thai street kids swinging in hand handmade bundled jasmine dangles. No sales during that stop light ~ even at maybe 10 Baht a piece. The older boy had walked further into the stacked evening traffic. He meandered behind our car and up the curbed narrowing somewhat grassy median. He had been through at least three lanes of traffic, not to mention the weaving motorbikes. The boys carefully yet subconsciously watched the timer on the lights and knew just when to head toward the median. After the older one passed our car, he sort of hung his head ~ was he dejected? The younger one came up along side with a slightly bigger bundle in one hand and the other hand he gave to the older boy. Were they brothers, cousins, or kids just assigned to the same street corner? Maybe they were
13 and 9…so hard to tell the ages of people here…it doesn’t seem to be written on their faces or in their height like I am accustomed to. What struck me was their hand holding, their interdependence on one another and that they appeared content in spite of what I thought should be a mundane and monotonous job. They held hands, talked, and most likely waited patiently for the next red light or else they crossed traffic to another red light to get their bundles sold more quickly. For when they were all sold their evening was finished. How long would it take to sell their bundles this night? A night like so many others.

We have seen the jasmine string sellers and the crispy rice bread seller almost daily since our move to Chiang Mai. However, the scene touched me particularly deeply this time. I had just witnessed major ugliness in our own vehicle between our 13 and 9 year old boys. Tim wanted to put his feet in the cracks between the seats around the console (where Tim wanted his head). The fight grew intensely more ugly…first with stating what each wanted the other not to do, then the name calling began to happen, voices grew louder and then the hitting started. Neither one wanted to see their selfishness. Neither one could see their ugliness. Neither one could see the damage they were doing to their already fragile relationship. The fight lasted quite a while…maybe 2 km and through the traffic. My heart was heavy for them…for us…and then we came to the stoplight where the brief witness of the young, content jasmine string-sellers contrasted with the privileged boys in our own vehicle, brought the heaviness of the strained relationship and ugly sin to my eyes where the tears burned and hotly dropped onto my cheeks.