Saturday 18^th August

Another cold, sleety Friday night at the bus stop.  I had laden bags and sat on the bench to wait, teeth gritted against the cold.  Not as cold as I might have been, mind you – my new duck down oversized coat just about has its own ecosystem; it is very warm and cosy.  I was vaguely hoping for another happy musical moment – more Japanese-infused House of the Rising Sun, maybe. 

But no…the only thing which happened to remind me of times in other lands was…a beggar… A very shabby oldcodger who came up to me and asked, very politely, for money.  Fifty cents would do, but he would prefer a dollar.  I was a bit startled – these moments are very rare in Hobart.  I rootled around and found a nice shiny dollar and handed it over and he shuffled off, leaving a big smell and a small smile behind him.  A well-dressed Asian woman who had been standing near me looked at me pityingly, with raised eyebrows.  She shook her head as I said, “It’s so hard to say no, isn’t it?”  Not so hard for her, apparently…

And yes she is probably right.  My single dollar probably isn’t going to do much good, in the scheme of things, and it’s not really a good look, in such a prosperous country, to be having smelly oldcodgers accosting bus passengers.  In India, if I had given a dollar to everyone who asked for money, I would have had no money left within an hour or so of arrival in Mumbai.  No question of it being too hard to say no. 

One of my favourite encounters with people asking for money was in New Delhi.  Pete, Vin, Anne and I were exploring the Red Fort, climbing up and down many stone stairs and passages in the heat.  Anne and I went up to another level and three young blokes rushed up to us, shouting, “Give us ten dollars!”  We said No, very firmly – well as firmly as we could…Anne is such a kind and gentle person it is very much not in her nature ever to say no to people asking for help of any sort.  We went back down and told Pete and Vin that they would be asked for money at the top of the stairs, and Pete said, “Right!”  He bounded up the stairs, two at a time, and was amongst the young blokes before they had time to take stock.  He strode up to the ringleader, held out his hand and said, “I want money!  Give me ten dollars!”  The boys looked at him with total disbelief then they all burst out laughing.  

And one night we were walking back to Larry and Lorraine’s house after a beautiful Delhi restaurant dinner.  Immediately we were surrounded by young men, wheedling and cajoling.  One of them nuzzled up to Pete and said, “Give me some money please.  I don’t have any.”  Pete put his arm matily around his shoulders and said, “Neither have I!  It’s awful, isn’t it?”  Blink.  Blink, then…laughter. 

The whole issue of beggars is very difficult.  Hard though it is to say no, it is of course not possible to give to everyone.  And giving to individuals isn’t always the correct solution in any case.  Larry and Lorraine, who lived in Delhi for three years, never gave to beggars on the street.  They did give, very generously, to the Sikh temples – they feed anyone who comes to their door - and Lorraine contributed a lot of time to itinerant street schools for homeless children.  But they did not hand out a shiny dollar to every person passing by who asked.