In Mixquic, a little girl, maybe age seven, appeared out of the dark and offered to sell us a parking space and use of the household WC in exchange for fewer than fifty pesos.
She and her little sister appeared to be home alone and hustling to help out.
Their WC was a small room with a maroon toilet and matching shower curtain. Their kitchen (yes, I’m nosy) was in a separate room, and the door was held shut with a wooden spoon. The living room (and bedrooms, I suppose) was in a third, separate space. The rose-colored space featured an altar overflowing with fruits and flowers.
Outside of some houses in the community of Mixquic, families placed a line of marigolds leading to their door to signify that neighbors (and even outsiders, like us) were welcome to come in and learn about the loved ones.
But there were no marigolds at this stop and no one but these little entrepreneurs to tell us the story.