Giving

Yesterday after I'd finished my studying in the library I was going to walk home and not eat anything when my steps turned towards a little convenience shop and after that I thought I might as well walk down to Morrisons, and so I did, in the winter dark of six o' clock.

There's a little bridge before Morrisons where beggars like to squat beside with a wee plastic cup. I walked past this bridge as usual and a pale, thin man sitting on the ground in rags asked me to spare some change. I didn't give it a second thought and walked on.

You worry that if you give money to the people on the streets, they'll use it for drugs, or alcohol, or just not use it to feed and clothe themselves. My mind was telling me all these things, but I thought of what I'd said to myself after Egypt - there had been so many poor people there, all hounding one for money, and trying to cheat you of your money, or willing to do anything dishonest just to get money, even stooping to lower themselves to ask for more after you'd already given them some.

I'd given a little wide-eyed boy ten pounds, and after that he came up to me with a pound note in his hand and claimed that I'd only given him a pound. It just made me sad that such a young boy felt compelled to lie for money, or would even think that palpable dishonesty would make me give him more.

After that I'd thought to myself how hopeless everything was in a poor society. The usual rules of honesty and integrity and faithfulness didn't seem to apply in a poor society. People compete with each other to get ahead and conventional values seemed too unrealistic to put into practice. Because they were poor, they would always want more and more, and always scheme to get more.

Giving them money would not satisfy them, because it would not make them rich. And letting them cheat you of your money would only be paving a way for them to sin. And if you had compassion for them they would see it and squeeze you dry. I really wanted to help them, but I didn't know how. There were so many people as well, and you just realised your insufficiency to do something for them all.

I was thinking about all these things and finally I just thought, I'll give my money now, because that's the only thing I can do. If I can at least do something, I'd do it, rather than doing nothing because of all these reasons and fears. Changing something is better than leaving it as it is.

So I went to Morrisons and bought my chicken and rice pudding and mixed vegetables and juice and cereal and milk and got some change, and fumbled around with it, dropped it clumsily into his split plastic cup. "Merry Christmas" he said and I said "God bless you" and kind of half-ran away because I was embarrassed.

I didn't want to think that he'd use the money to get drugs, or anything like that - I was just glad to have given. Maybe I was being unrealistic, but I thought - God gave a gift to me one day long ago. There were times when I mistreated it, times when I didn't value it, times when I thought that life would have been so much easier had I not accepted it. Times when I struggled and wanted to let it go. But I finally learnt how to value it. And I hoped in my heart that maybe one day, he would also value what he had been given. Maybe he already held it dear then.

I half-walked, half-hopped home because of the cold, and stopped in wonder because the clouds were rolling menancingly in the gloomy sky, making the moon look like it was receding backwards at great speed. And I stopped and thought how wonderful it was to be living in this strange, exciting, amazing, quirky beautiful world.