As we pull up to a stoplight in the middle of town, small boys start running at the bus. At first I think they are trying to open the storage compartments underneath where our luggage would have been (if it weren't at the hotel.) but they start crawling underneath the bus.
They think we are going to Ceuta and they want to climb up into the underside of the bus to try and cross the border. But they crawl back out just before the bus begins to roll forward because our bus is fitted with metal plates underneath that prevent them from crawling up into the wheel wells. It's just as well; we weren't headed for Ceuta anyway.
If I could, I would carry these small boys (barely old enough to look after themselves, and even then...) over the border on my shoulders, if I could.
Who knows if it would do any good though. Is a life homeless in the streets of Ceuta waiting to stow away on a ferry across to Europe only to find yourself homeless in the streets of Tarifa...is it a better life than...than what? I don't know.
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