Hans the homeless

While ten of us were waiting outside of the church for our meeting to start a young man came close and leaned against a car. He looked distressed and he was not in any shape to be tactful about how he laid his eyes upon us so heavily. A few minutes later he approached some of the Bolivians with us and started talking about wanting to fight and being robbed and he made a lot of offensive gestures. He was intoxicated, probably with alcohol and drugs. The Bolivians who knew best looked away from him and turned their backs to him to protect the rest of us.

Now before going to Bolivia I tried to make myself ready to risk my life in the case that it could help another. I saw in his red eyes and violent nature, another to help.

I leaned around the friends that were protecting me and found his eyes, "Hey, what's your name?" He had found an audience. His name is Hans, (or Juan in Spanish). He drew close and his eyes focused on me and he began his story.

He said he had just been robbed. It was police that robbed him of his cell phone and everything, he said. He told this story over and over and when he told it he clenched his fists and cussed, and then pointed his fingers like guns at me and then at his own temples, with tears dropping from his eyes. “Mi propio gente! Mi propio gente!” He would scowl, “My own people, my own people did it to me.”

In the mean time, it was decided that the meeting was cancelled so we should go get a nice italian meal. I read their body language and much of it was saying, 'ok, Ross, this is a good excuse to get rid of him.'

My evening hadn't been filled with enough risk to fill me up so I pushed it, "Should we buy him dinner?" The looks suggested it was not a good idea. "Can I buy him dinner?"

Randy heard my request and with no hesitation approved it.

Some of the other Bolivians with us told us to be very careful and that they had seen a couple other boys hanging around below us. I thought their advice was very healthy, but I thought this opportunity was worth the risk.

We waited for dinner. Hans told me over and over, with animated belligerent hand movements how they had stole his cell phone and money, his own people! He told me how he wanted to kill them, on the day of justice, when he is reincarnated. I asked him what that would gain? I suggested to change the hate into love and tried to appeal to him by the heroic nature in this. He said, but they would not understand this, they were not people of the spirit, but people of material things. He went on to talk about Darma (good Karma) and Karma (bad karma).

He said he liked Hitler. Because he hated the Jews. He had worked at four jobs which had Jewish owners. They had been very tight with their money. He asked me what I thought of Jews. I told him I grew up in a home where they said all people are equal and that I had no experiences like his to make me think of Jews as any less valuable.”

A few times when we eventually came around to reach the same conclusion on something very deep, like turning hate into good, he would take my hand, intertwine our fingers and squeeze it between us vehemently and look into my eyes. At other times, in the heat of his stories he held his same fingers in my face and clasp them into fists and shake them before me.

I have found that giving gifts is very important to Bolivians. He appreciated the dinner we bought him and appreciated my sincere ear. In this spirit he gave me two things. He tugged on the necklace hanging from his neck and it snapped off. He put it in my hand and said it would protect me. The leather strap held a wire twisted into shape of a sun's rays, or a hand's fingers or a marijuana leaf. The other emblem on the strap was a Mayan cross. It is a symmetric cross with steps in between the arms and a circular hole in the middle. I wasn't sure what they meant, and by the looks of one of the other Bolivians at the table watching us, it wasn't good. I told him, this is the symbol of amistad, of friendship between us. The other thing he gave me was the empty cell phone case around his belt. I promised him I would find a good use for it, therefore turning a bad event into something good.

He knew a few words and cultural facts about many cultures. He quoted some American songs. He said a few words in English.
I told him we were Christians and that we wanted to help him.
I asked him, “can I trust in you?” He said yes. I said, “you can be a very good person.” He said, “I am a good person.” I had doubted much of his story and imagined he had a very rough street life. But I had faulted in giving him the grace that someone has so unequivically given me.

He talked about people getting high. He said he wanted cerveza when I asked him what he wanted to drink. He talked about Mezcal and Peyote. When we were paying for dinner he pulled out his wallet and looked for cash to pay me. I said, its ok, I will buy your dinner. He looked for something in his empty wallet to pay with and all he could find was a paper folded into a pocket. He gave it to me. I opened it far enough to see small dark green shavings inside. I gave it back to him and said, no, but thank you anyways. He said thank you.

I offered to go for a run with him to get his angry energy out. He thought that would be a good idea. I knew it could be dangerous but I would try to lead us and take us only to lit areas. But as we were leaving David told me that Kavil (one of the Bolivian volunteers) had said, be very careful, make sure Ross doesn’t do anything dangerous. I took that as a sign and I told Hans that they told me I had to do something with them now and couldn’t run with him. We planned to meet the next day at the fountain on the Prado.

I asked him where he would go now. He said he would walk home. I asked where was home. He told me very far and that he had no money to get a taxi. I hesitated and the others didn't think it was a good idea to impersonate an ATM. I apologized to him and he nodded like, 'I was hoping for more but that's what I expected.' He said, "I'm Aztecan. We are tough. Don't worry about me." We left him at the corner and I looked back many times. He was not following us. I did not trust him very much still. I wanted to but I did not want to be stupid. I had learned once before not to trust someone though they seem to be a new friend.