Meraki Performance

Two Days on the Road

For a month I walked past The Roadwork Boys. Sunrise to sunset, they were already there in the brutal Bali heat, and I was just a man with an actual packet of ci******es or water bottle, and a wave to share.

Over time those waves became fist bumps. The fist bumps became smiles I looked forward to. And that’s how I learned who they were: hardworking, joyous, and far kinder than the work they do should allow.

There were no plans that Saturday. No agenda. Just a pole, a rope, and an hour I didn’t know I needed.

The day before I’d only stayed for 20 minutes, pulling when I could and mostly getting in the way, laughing through it.
But Saturday I cleared the afternoon and stayed until I was useful, not just until I was tired.

It was hard, hot, manual work. Sweat cut lines down my face and by the end my hands were raw in places they hadn’t been before. I’m a fit man. I’m strong. And in 60 minutes, I felt every bit of it.

They do this every day. From first light to last.

That is what humbled me.
Not that I helped, but that I was welcomed to be part of it.

Through all of it they never stopped smiling. Always a cheer when the rope moved. Always warmth in the dirt.
One of them, “my friend,” speaks a little more English than the rest. We worked side by side without needing many words, and when we finished we shared a sweaty, meaningful hug.

The kind that holds a whole month of small greetings inside it.

I walked home with empty hands and a full chest.
Humbled by their strength.
Connected by their joy.
Grateful to have been of service, even for an hour.
And carrying a memory I know will stay with me for life.

Terima kasih, boys 🙏