Guadalajara: In Praise of Jorge

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Sometimes it’s hard to find a good taxi driver.


My taxi driver, Jorge, is reliable. If he can’t show up at the agreed-upon time, he calls me to tell me when to expect him.
This morning he called.
“I will be there in fifteen minutes,” he said at 8:45 a.m., the time at which he was supposed to pick me up.
The promised fifteen minutes stretched into nearly forty, but he had called, so I knew he would show up. When he did, I clambered into the cab, and away we went.
I thought that Jorge had been delayed by heavy traffic. It turns out that he was sick, and should have stayed home in bed. In the early morning hours, he had been hit by stomach pains and diarrhea.
But sick or not, he was determined to keep his promise to pick me up and transport me to the Hogar de Niños, where I volunteer to teach English to children for a couple of hours each morning.
When we arrived at the hogar, a scant thirty minutes after leaving my apartment, I paid Jorge, tipped him generously, and said, “Now, go home, and go to bed.”
He promised he would.

Little brown sparrow,
even during the downpour
you keep on singing.


Text and photo © 2017 by Mark M. Redfearn, all rights reserved


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