“Excuse me. I hate to in-in-interrupt everyone’s night but I find myself homeless and without food and I was wondering if anyone had some change or food they m-m-might have spare,” stuttered the young man with dishevelled sandy blonde hair as he held out a shaking hand holding a paper cup. His other hand nervously tapped a pattern against his thigh as the man, not even in his late 20s looked down onto the floor.
I looked up at the two young men sitting opposite me on the train and one looked back at me. Then we both looked down at our feet.
I wondered if I should, having been told that people ask for change to see you take out your wallet to snatch it. No. That was silly. I was on a crowded and moving train. That wasn’t his intention.
I remembered then that I had only grabbed my bank card that night, I had no change. I had no food to give.
A young lady next to me handed over some money. A lady behind me reached into her shopping bag for a sandwich and pressed it into his hand.
I continued to look down.
“Thank you,” he said as he got off at the next stop.
I continued to look down.
Shame coursed through my body and expressing itself through the hot liquid welling in my eye.
I missed my stop. Still I sat there frozen.
****
This moment haunts me still, days later I think about that man. He eloquent English accent. He stutter. His embarrassment. What dignity he would have to lose to find him self begging for change. For scraps of food. And I, with every benefit and privilege known to man, could not even look him in the eye as a human.
No, I had no money to give him. But I had the ability to acknowledge him human to human and instead, in fear, I looked down.
I very well could be in a similar situation if I didn’t have parents who have supported me financially and emotionally. I dread to think where I would be without a mum that made me hand out resumes and pushed me get my first job. I certainly not be in London without knowing that nothing could ever go so terribly wrong that I couldn’t call a family member or friend to help me out. The difference between him and me? While I’m locationally alone. He’s terribly, terribly alone.
And the reason that what I did was so beyond wrong? So shameful? I had an opportunity to give him a moment where he could connect with a human and not, for that split second, be so terribly alone. And I chose fear over love. I chose myself over him.
*****
All I can think is that it has to be different next time. I have to be different.
I’m not sure what it will look like but I’ve started small.
I’ve packed muesli bars in my bag as well as a section for loose change.
I’ve decided to look people in the eye and speak to them. If given the opportunity I’ve decided to ask their name and give them mine. I’ve decided to give a little dignity back.
The social implications of why, how and what they will do with the money is a factor for some. I’ve decided to not let it be a factor for me. As the saying goes. “There but for the grace of God go I”.
It’s only the beginning. Perhaps I will find a way to make a bigger impact. I just know this, it takes so little to give someone respect.
Today, on my way to the tube I looked a young man with a scruffy beard and a paper cup and offered him a muesli bar. He looked into blue-green eyes and I looked into blue-as-an-English summer eyes. I acknowledged his humanity.
I wonder where he sleeps tonight with this thunderstorm crashing down. I hope his belly is less hungry.
I wonder where he sleeps tonight with this thunderstorm crashing down. I hope his belly is less hungry.
I will not, I can not, continue to look down. I challenge you too. Make a decision to offer someone your respect that hasn’t earnt it. Because we all deserve it.
