Approaching the traffic light, I watched as a tennis ball dropped to the road, bounced back up, and landed in the hand of Matias. With the three tennis balls safely in one hand, he put his other hand out and passed between the cars, with sorrowful eyes.
“You are the guy that walks on the rope” he said, as I introduced myself to him. He explained that he had arrived at 10am and wanted to go home at 5pm, or as soon as he had 10 thousand pesos (which he was dropping into his empty tennis ball tube).
I tied up the rope, and watched as Matias repeated his three ball routine. He had some fun tricks: he would eat one ball like an apple; he would put a ball to his ear like a telephone; and his grand finale that bounced the ball from the road, over his head, and into his hand. I watched him go through these motions and imagined how he would have performed it in the beginning, when it was brand new.
“How did you learn to juggle?” I asked him during a green light. “My big brother showed me how, and then on my own watching the balls fall, and fall and fall again.” I nodded nostalgically, remembering that same process.
By now, I had my pyjamas on, the rope tied up, and Matias said, “it´s your turn”. I had spent the week developing a routine inspired by yawning and waking up. I performed the routine and watched all the windows wind down, and hands begin appearing with coins and notes.
When I returned to the traffic light, Matias looked on as I put the money into my backpack. “You made more than I have made in the whole afternoon!” and he laughed. I assured him “sometimes they give lots, sometimes they give nothing… the most important thing is that I have fun… If I enjoy it, those watching enjoy it too”.
Matias returned to the traffic light, on his grand finale, the ball hit his back, and bounced backwards onto the other road. The ball then got pin balled from car tire to bumper bar and escaped down to the next intersection. As he returned, the light had already turned green and his audience had gone.
Matias sat on my rope, and began swinging on it like a swing. He told me that he lived over an hour away, most days he went to school, but every so often he would come to Santiago, to wash wind shields, do acrobatics or juggle. Some of the money he earned he gave to support his family, and the rest was for him.
Then urgently he says “You´re my friend, I am with you, ok” and as I scanned the street for police, I said “yeah… why´s that though?” “He whispered back “I think that´s my aunty coming this way”. The traffic light turned red, and I began performing as the lady in question neared us… and passed us. “She was identical man!” Matias exclaimed up to me, as I finished my routine.
It was nearing 5 o’clock. I had given Matias some tips, some ideas to refresh his routine, to make it more fun for him. The traffic light is an unpredictable place. Sometimes you are rewarded. Sometimes you are ignored. On this particular traffic light, Matias has inspired a few motorists to tip him, and as he wandered back towards me, I car beeped its horn, and arm stretched out, and a green 1000 peso note flapped in the wind. Matias received the note, and reached me smiling. He had reached his target.
And with no costume to change. Matias poured the money out. Put the balls into the tube. And yelled out “Adios… Tito”, while I balanced up on the rope. Before I could yell back Good Bye, Matias called up “Hey, how did you learn to walk on the rope?” As I completed a 360 turn on the rope, I replied with a grin “falling, and falling and falling again” but by the time I had returned to the corner, Matias was already gone. Then the light turned red. The traffic stopped. And the circus began again. The circus, you see, is always on the move.
Photograph captured by Karen DeBonis
