Masi the boy conductor

It was his confidence that first annoyed me, his ability to approach me like he had known me since birth. A child so dusty after playing with friends in the evening, hair ruffled, and teeth gleaming in excitement. Uncle, let me come with you!

I was no uncle, just a guy picking up Bibi Popket. Yet this ball of energy wanted to intercept my work. He had the audacity to ask if he could drive, hanging onto the back of the truck, taking my stern refusal in stride, saying he would see me later.

Masi the strange boy found me later, as I was about to drop Bibi Popket back, he lived near her, where I saw him earlier. Could I drop him home? The cunning little brat I thought, and into the back of the truck he jumped.

And so this continued for days, until one day he sat inside the truck with me, asking me a million questions about cars. Why do you have to wear a seatbelt? What is this green flashing arrow? Where does this red triangle come from?

Eventually, he used to remind me to wear my seatbelt, to turn on the indicator, to flash my hazards when parking in a no-park zone. He made me establish rules with him: You may come with me if you are quiet, Masi, and if you lay low behind the truck, and if you learn to follow one rule: To chill.

Chill? He used to ask. Yes, chill, Masi... Chill. Because if I am caught carrying a boy like you in the back with a voice as loud as yours, I will lose my job.

And then I had to leave, and Masi wanted to be the driver, but he was too small, and continued conducting, helping the old people enter and leave the truck, doing things he had taught himself to do, easing my work in the process.

It was his confidence that first annoyed me, but this very confidence that I grew to love, it was his audacity that angered me, but that I grew to respect. Masi had a certain love for serving, and this love was never flawed.

His questions still pound my head, but I smile when I think of Masi and I hope he is still serving.

I hope he becomes the driver one day.

So thank you. Thank you for showing me that children - like we have all been - are adventerous even in service. Thank you for telling me that they have their own beloved ethics that we can all learn from. Thank you for taking me to places that I feel protected and warm. Thank you for making me remember.