I once, rather foolishly, bought a couple of home-made candles from a man called Anthony* who was hawking them around the neighbourhood. It was foolish not only because I didn't really need or want the candles (they got sent to a charity shop in the end), but also because I am now marked as a soft touch, and get asked to buy more candles every couple of months.
Normally I send him away as politely as possible, but today he turned up saying his daughters weren't attending school because they didn't have the right shoes or shirts. Now, school started last Wednesday; those kids should be there. So I offered to buy the shirts and shoes, he passed the first bullshit test by actually telling me their sizes and I duly went to buy them this afternoon. He didn't turn up on time to collect them, but perhaps he will tomorrow. I hope so.
It was a simple enough interaction, but it catapulted me straight back into the vortex of living-in-SA that I've been on holiday from, along with everything else. Anybody who's been stung by street cons will recognise the flood of conflicting thoughts and impulses: "Oh no, what does he want now... school shoes? that's a new one... wait, how can a kid be turned away from school because she doesn't have shoes? That's outrageous... is he making it up? How do I check? What's the name of the school? What are the names of his daughters?... He doesn't want money? Maybe it's for real this time... or maybe he'll just sell the shoes. Oh, I'm a horrible person for even thinking that."
Round and round, in several iterations, with everyone who comes to the door. Most of the time now I don't open it, but every now and then I'm shamed into doing so (and before anyone asks, yes I have a security barrier. I learned that the hard way).
There's a slightly different version with the men selling beautiful beadwork I also don't need at the traffic lights: "Oh, that's lovely. But I don't need one. No More Stuff, remember? But it could be his family's dinner for the day... but if I stop I'll have to fend off 20 people... whoops, no, I'm not really looking. I can't really see you, I'm paying attention to my children here. Sorry. I'm a nice person really, I promise. But I'm not rolling the window down. I'm just going to shrug apologetically and pretend this isn't happening until the lights turn..."
(I wonder what the interior monologue is on the other side of the window? I fear I look nothing but contemptible from there).
Is there any way of dealing with this that is both prudent and doesn't make me feel morally sleazy? If anybody has found one, please tell me.
I spoke to one person whose coping mechanism is to tell himself something along the lines of "The Universe has this all worked out, so if you're there it's obviously because you *chose* to be there, so it's really not my problem, have a nice day".
Unfortunately for me I think this is rubbish, so I'm left with the same old options: 1) Pretend this person who needs something from me doesn't exist. 2) Acknowledge his existence -- "yes, hi, I see you there" -- and leave it there. 3) Buy something/give him money and hope he'll go away. 4). Invite him in, offer food and drink, hear his life story, adopt his family, transform their lives.
1 is mean and cold and life-denying. I try very hard to avoid 1. Mostly I vacillate between 2 and 3, both of them half-assed ambivalent fence-setting cowardly sorts of responses. 4 of course is the ideal-world option, the noble course of action approved by all fairytales and religious texts, but in *this* world I just can't go there. And not just because of perfectly legitimate safety concerns, either -- the thing is, why *this* person? Why not that one too, and the next one, and what about the hundred after that? I think of how much need there is, not in the world but just in my little inward-looking corner of it, and I feel all small and helpless and go to make tea.
And of course every single one of these interactions, several times a day, comes overburdened with a terrible weight of History, so that nothing is simple or transparent or quite what it appears to be. Some days I feel we're all just ciphers, really; or we behave as if we are. We assume a single glance tells us everything there is to know about each other and play out our roles accordingly, but it's not very satisfying.
I'm going on too long. I shall go and re-read Shikasta, or something.
*His real name isn't Anthony, of course, but he obviously pegged me as "white lady who won't bother trying to pronounce my real name", so I get the English version.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Constantly confronting other people's need
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4 comments:
My mum has a mad man (I think he really is a bit mad) who does garden work for her. He told her his name was Anthony. He does work for several people in her street and has told each of them a completely different name.
firstfallen says there are booklets of meal vouchers one can buy. I have yet to obtain some, but that is one way of being charitable without having to Gain Stuff.
Yep, I kinda think you have to be a tiny bit mad to go ringing the doorbells of complete strangers -- or if you don't start out that way, you certainly will be by the end. He turned up to collect the shoes, btw, which makes me happy...
I'm glad he did turn up for the shoes. It's always such a relief when the story turns out to be true.
I look at the beaded flowers from the corner of my eye, trying not to be caught looking.... I deal with the doorknockers by not having a doorbell on my rather high fence. But avoidance doesn't solve the problem.
I have a "beggar budget". I decide how much I can afford a month to basically "throw away", money that would otherwise be spent on chocolate or something else unnecessary. I then dole this out over the month to people who basically take my fancy. I occassionally buy things at the robots, I love those beaded things. I figure I'm going to buy stuff anyway, I might as well make it a worthwhile purchase.
If there's a beggar outside a shop asking for money for "a loaf of bread" I prefer to actually buy a loaf of bread and some polony inside and then give that, rather than money for wine (I know I'm cynical, but there are a lot of drunk bergies in Obs).
Basically, you need to decide what your limit is. I've heard someone say "well, you can't help everyone, so why bother, it's just a drop in the ocean" which was the stupidest reason ever to not give to beggars. Every drop counts. Oceans are made of drops (and fish poo). So, what you can do it put some money into a little purse in your handbag and dole out from there to people with a good story/starving dog/crying child. I find that I'm more inclined to give to someone if I've had a bad day, it makes me feel better somehow, knowing I helped someone else just a little. Ok, enough preaching now :P.
- ff
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