When we left the apartment in Quito, we moved to Santo Domingo De Los Colorados. The town was just a large village. There was a restaurant on the town square that we frequented. The building was simple cement block construction with a solid wall in the rear and on one side. The front and the other side had a wall that was about waist high. We liked to sit by the half wall. On the other side of the wall there were usually 3 or 4 shoe shine boys. They boys were between 7 and 11 years old. When a bus came in or a likely customer appeared in the park, they'd trot off and offer their services. Between jobs they waited, crouched on the other side of the wall.
The restaurant discouraged the boys (or any one else for that matter) from approaching diners and asking for food so that beggars didn't run off customers. However, there was always food left on our plates and those of our little boys. For us, our dinner wasn't complete until we shared what was left. We would call the boys over and let them eat when we were finished. We'd sit the plates on the wall and the boys would come running. They'd crouch down on their side of the wall for a few minutes. When they'd finished, they'd stand up, hand us back the plates and say thank you with a brilliant smile.
To this day, I hate throwing away food. My mind always goes back to those skinny, dirty little street urchins, the shoeshine boys and their absolute joy at eating food from a real plate.