Hustlin'

This is the story of the Girl in the Red Sequined Burka and the Boy with no Shoes. At the gas station near our compound, every morning there is a mile long line for gas. I've written about it already. ALL of the customers are men, as women don't drive anything here. Not even donkey carts. So, it's only men there, except for this little girl, about 9 years old. I can't tell if she is the daughter of the station owner or a relative or what. But every morning, about 0530, there she is, in her Red Sequined Burka, or a similar bright color, doing her routine. She waters the plants in this guys little Garden of Eden, she takes babies from the customers cars and takes them to the bathroom, she feeds the dog. But her real job is supplying succour to the customers. Succour, in the form of coffee and tea. She floats around this dirty old gas station filled with screaming Arabs in her Red Sequined Burka, running tea and coffee and water to all the thirsty people. She walks gracefully and just positively floats. She never complains and she is one of the hardest working people I've seen here. She works there all day, or as long as the station is selling gas. She's a tough little girl. The Boy with no Shoes is also a tough little guy! He's a black market gas dealer and he, too, is about 9. He shows up every morning with his father and they fill up a few 5 gallon jugs with fuel. Then they go right outside the station, onto the main road, and sell gas to passers-by. It's a good deal for everyone: for him, cuz he makes a little profit; for the station owner, cuz he's still selling gas; and for the passers-by, cuz if they buy from him, then they don't have to wait in the long line. Needless to say, this little hustler runs out of product very quickly. But he doesn't have shoes. By 8am, the sun is shining and it ain't Southern California sun, yall. By midmorning, the pavement is about 125degrees. And this little man is out there, hawking and squawking, wheelin and dealin, barefoot as the day he was born. Tough people, here in Iraq. Scratch out an existence however they can. Every time I travel abroad, it makes me feel so fortunate to have been born in America. There are other countries that are great, interesting and fun. But America truly is the land of opportunity. And, of course, Texas is there in America. So why be anywhere else?