The eyes of the desperate are often sad and pleading and if one stares into them long enough, empathy is evoked. We are familiar with such people. Some of us are those people trapped by circumstances or choices and regarded as unfortunate. Such is the narrative of many local beggars.
I have always had mixed feelings about beggars. There are those who do a 9 to 5 on the pavements, in effect making it a career. And there are those who traverse the streets, asking one to ‘spare a fine change’ or to ‘buy something to eat.’ Local beggars range from children to the elderly.
Years ago, I made a vow to never give money to begging children. Being on the streets exposes them to many dangers and I do not want to be a part of those who encourage the habit by feeding it. But it is very difficult to walk away when children tell you they are hungry.
I also vowed to never give money to adult scroungers who appear fit enough to work. There is the man who operates by Camp Street near the City Mall who carries a sign claiming that he is deaf. This man has been doing this for a couple of years. One day I stopped to ask if he was indeed deaf and he communicated through sign language, which I did not understand. Another day, I was passing and someone hurled an insult at him, saying he could hear and speak. Then on another occasion he appeared to be talking to someone, but maybe it was my imagination because of the idea planted in my head by the passerby who shouted at him.
There is an elderly lady who approached me recently asking that I buy her something to eat. She would not remember that she had approached me before asking for a ‘small help.’ She reminded me of another elderly lady, whose tale was always that she was trapped in Georgetown and needed bus fare home. I decided to have a chat with the hungry lady.
“How did you end up begging on the street?”
Her son had died leaving her with seven grandchildren.
“Where are the children’s mother?”
“I minding them.”
I could not tell whether she was telling the truth or not, but she seemed convincing; her eyes were almost teary. I walked away thinking maybe she rehearsed the story. While my theatre colleagues may think that they are the best actors and actresses, there are many actors on the street who sometimes give Oscar-worthy performances.
Then there is the mother. It was a few years ago that I first noticed her sitting somewhere on a pavement along Robb street. She had a few children, including a baby, at the time. The thing that always angered me about her was that the children were also begging–sometimes clad in their school uniforms. I saw her standing on the pavement near Republic Bank on Water Street last week with a pen and pad. My first thoughts were that she had started using a different approach to garner funds. There are those people who come up with those bogus charitable causes to solicit funds for their own benefit. It is when one can say that begging becomes a little ‘sophisticated.’ The plot usually involves needing donations for a feeding programme or to help the children with clothes, books, sporting equipment etc.
I saw her again at a different spot this week and stopped to have a chat with her. It wasn’t any of those things I thought of. Instead, she was raising money to help build a church.
“Where is the church?”
“In Sophia.”
“Whose church is it?”
“Is a woman pastor. She start de church about a year ago.”
“So this is a job you do for her and she pays you?”
“Yes.”
Afterward, I wondered if she could see that I was questioning everything that she said. If she knew that the blue bill I left was only because she took time to speak to me and not because I was interested in helping to build a church, real or not. Later, I enquired from a few people who live in Sophia and none of them had heard of the church. It did not surprise me although if I am to give her the benefit of the doubt, it could be because of the claim that the church has only been around for about a year and they are now trying to build.
Another familiar character is the arrogant young man who is usually around Scotia Bank on Carmichael Street and who is always demanding that you buy him something to eat. One day my response was that he could work and his comeback was threatening. I suspect that he might be suffering from mental illness.
There are certain characters that one knew or heard about over the years. People who had no need to, but would make themselves small to garner pity. In some cases, relatives would transport differently-abled persons to certain locations every day so that they could solicit funds. One beggar even argued that he could make more money begging. That kind of pompous attitude when one has chosen to scrounge off people is upsetting.
While I am aware that many of the beggars are indeed unfortunate–desperate and in some cases, mentally ill, some seem to have made it their life’s mission to live off the sweat of others. We have heard the stories of beggars owning big houses and making large deposits at the bank. It makes me wonder. Is it an addiction for some? Why would one turn to the streets to beg if one does not need to?
Some of us Guyanese are quick to say is “Oh somebody musee put he/she suh.”
It always seems to be an easy excuse when we cannot figure things out. I suppose blaming supernatural forces makes us or them less culpable.
Addiction can come in many forms and for some of the scroungers maybe they have become so accustomed to the lifestyle that they cannot fathom doing anything else. They will beg until the day they take their last breath because people will continue to fund them. But what does it mean for the ones who have started their children on a path of begging.
Some even use the children to encourage kindhearted folks to give. Have they stopped to consider the dangers they are putting those children in or has the desperate need for survival blinded them? Will the children carry on the tradition? Do we stop giving money to beggars? Or do we encourage them to find another occupation in cases where they can and help them do so as much as we can?
