I’ve just returned from a trip to Paris. The city I’ve wanted to see for half my life was beautiful, exciting and sexy, but also hard to take. Like every city of decent size in the world, it's got its fair share of beggars.
It wasn’t as bad as Thailand, where I’ll never forget being bumped into in Chiang Mai, and turning and looking into the dead eyes of an old man with leprosy with his begging bowl.
Or Bali, where I gave some money to a young girl begging, and was promptly set upon by a pack and had to escape into the nearest bar. A patron assured me they were being run by a pimp who forced them to beg and collected the bulk of the spoils. I've heard this a lot. It makes it easier to turn away.
The begging started in Frankfurt HBF - the rail station. I was asked for money twice, which was to be a recurring theme. Being asked for money, refusing at least 50% of the time, and feeling conflicted either way - bad for not giving, but often pissed off for doing so.
I ended up often giving anyway, even if they were small amounts. One thing I saw that I won’t forget was a man and his young son, begging. I was walking toward them with the old debate raging in my head, and this time decided against giving. Then I saw a Rolls Royce pull up at the lights and the father sent his son over to beg outside the passenger window. The passenger stared straight ahead. It was a postcard for inequality.
I ended up giving to a homeless guy round the corner, who didn't even have a cup out to collect or anything - he looked surprised to be given money! At least, I think he was homeless…
It becomes easy to be cynical about all humanity - that everyone wants a piece of you. I was approached by a non-French looking person at the Arc de Triomphe who asked me something I didn't understand while holding out his phone. I didn't even think - just spat “No” and walked away. Two minutes later I saw him posing for a photo, then engaging in lively conversation with someone much nicer than me who had agreed to take his photo.
And I’ve just found out, via some Googling here, that I was right to say no or ignore the various women who asked me if I spoke English, while carrying some sort of clipboard, near popular tourist traps such as the Eiffel Tower. Turns out they offer you a heartbreaking life story (quite possibly very true) and then solicit money.
I’ve always wanted to go to India, but I’m glad I haven't yet - I think the poverty and beggars would kill a SNAG like me at the moment.
But it's hard to know what to do. I’m not rich, but compared to them I am. But if I gave to everyone I saw after a week I’d be broke.
There’s a story of Leo Tolstoy, author of War and Peace, who came upon a beggar, yet didn't have any money. He said to the man, “I’m sorry, my brother, but I have nothing to give.” And the beggar smiled and said, “You have given me more than I asked for - you have called me brother.” This made me think of the way I give, when I do - probably stony faced and resentful. Or perhaps worse, maybe wanting something in return from the universe, for my generosity.
In the end, back in the relative luxury and safety of my own home, I know what I’d rather do. I’d rather give than not give. I don’t have to bankrupt myself doing it, and I must always put my family first, but my few cents or dollars could potentially feed someone.
I always remember the Buddhist nun I worked for once. I asked her about giving, and if I should, or if I was just contributing to drug and alcohol addictions and laziness. “Just give”, she said.
“Just give”