ON HONESTY: IT'S NAME IS FABIOLA

I walked for miles in and around Plaza Botero. For hours I schlepped up and down streets filled with vendors and prostitutes, cafes and bakeries, churches and cheap hotels. My last area to search was just northeast of the plaza, taking me under the Medellin Metro line.

Amidst a crowd of poor merchants selling their wares on blankets spread on the sidewalk, directly under the overhead Metro, her face appeared.  She was selling the little things recicladoras find that might have value to another Paisa...a screwdriver, a pair of shoes, a string of lights.  My search was over. I found my angel.

In August I wrote [ Medellin Steals My Heart ] about being the victim of a pickpocket on Wednesday, only to be the victim of a random act of incredible kindness and honesty the following Sunday.  I wrote that my angel left before I could get her name. Because I had lost my wallet and cash, I could not hand to her a comparable reward for her act of generosity.  I felt guilty and incomplete.

Last Wednesday I decided to take the only clue I had, the whereabouts of her telephone call telling me she found my wallet. It came from Plaza Botero, a large square located in front of the Museo de Antioquia, the state art museum. Here large sculptures by Fernando Botero sit for all to see and explore. It is a very popular tourist attraction in this city of approximately 3.5 million people.

I know from watching recicladores that they perch in one location and go out in a three to four block radius to go through the trash put out by merchants, apartment building managers, and home owners. So, with that in mind, I set out on Wednesday to see if I could find this small, cherub-faced woman with a heart of gold.

When I approached her, I asked her if she remembered me. Her eyes said no.  I asked her if she remembered finding a wallet and walking to Laureles...after a brief second, her face alit.  She put it together.  She smiled and screamed, "amigo!"

I told her she had been in my heart since that day.  I gave her a small black plastic bag within which I had hid money for her, I said, "Este regalito es solo para ti, amor." [This gift is only for you, love]  She knew what it was and immediately placed it in her bra, the same place from which she pulled my wallet that Sunday in August when we first met.  She told me it was important to her to find me because she knew the papers in my wallet were important. "Papeles importante," she called them.

After many hugs and kisses...abrazos y besitos...I wished her, "Feliz Navidad" and went on my way, only to quickly return.  "Su nombre, amor?"  "Fabiola!" her reply. Fabiola, the name of honesty. 

I still have not been able to wipe the smile off my face.  Now that I know where she is, I will stop by now and again...on Wednesdays, of course...to see how she is doing and to give her some pesos to assure there is always something on her table.