It was Saturday evening at the mall. Me and my girlfriend were at the tail-end of another wonderful day, and we were on the queue for the last ride going home. While we were waiting for our turn to be ushered inside the shuttle, I noticed this familiar street urchin who's been haunting that particular area of the mall for as long as I can remember. He was holding a broom, and he was sweeping the floor with it, even though he wasn't supposed to do so, and there were no dirt for him to sweep at all. He was merely playing around by imitating the act of sweeping the floor with a broom. Childish behavior. Which isn't really strange for his case, considering that a quick look at the kid's size betrays the fact that he's a very young child, 4 years old at the very least.
Anyway, there he was, waving that broom around, swinging around playfully without minding the people around him. It came to the point where the kid was flailing that broom around so much that he almost hit my girlfriend. Being the girl that my girlfriend is, she instinctively evaded the swing in order to avoid getting dirty. And of course, there was a slight hint of irritation in her face along with that act. Naturally, the other people inside the shuttle looked at our direction, because that's what people do when there's a commotion, no matter how insignificant it is. It was a bit embarrassing, to be honest, and actually, I couldn't really tell what I was really embarrassed about. It could have been my girlfriend, because she did give out this quick shriek that is typical of your average spooked girl. Or it could have been the fact that I allowed everything to happen. I don't really know, to be honest.
If there was an emotion that prevailed at that moment, though, it was the disturbing feeling that I got looking at that kid. It's not actually the first time that I've encountered that kid. He's always approached me ever since I started riding that particular shuttle route to accompany my girlfriend home, and every time he approached me for money, I rejected him. Nevertheless, I was still disturbed by the awkwardness of me not helping this kid, even though there was an overflowing emotion of sympathy in my chest. Once again, I have refused to give him money, and this time I felt exceptionally bad because of it.
Of course, I wasn't this way before. Back when I was still in college, I almost always gave out spare change to beggars and street urchins whenever they stretched their hands out to me. I felt good doing it, not because I wanted to help, but because I believed it to be the right thing, and of course, doing the right thing makes me feel good about myself. But ever since I've read this online conversation between my professors and my classmates about the supposed virtue of handing out alms, I have stopped giving alms, primarily because according to them, alms are merely dole-outs that don't really uplift the condition of the poor. Also, giving out alms because it felt good is really not a very good thing to do, since by doing so we reduce the beggars down to mere objects of self-justification. It's doing a good thing for the sake of feeling good because you've just done a good thing, which pretty much waters your act of goodwill down to insincerity. Hence my unwillingness to give money to that poor kid. I won't let myself be drawn to insincerity.
Of course, I wasn't this way before. Back when I was still in college, I almost always gave out spare change to beggars and street urchins whenever they stretched their hands out to me. I felt good doing it, not because I wanted to help, but because I believed it to be the right thing, and of course, doing the right thing makes me feel good about myself. But ever since I've read this online conversation between my professors and my classmates about the supposed virtue of handing out alms, I have stopped giving alms, primarily because according to them, alms are merely dole-outs that don't really uplift the condition of the poor. Also, giving out alms because it felt good is really not a very good thing to do, since by doing so we reduce the beggars down to mere objects of self-justification. It's doing a good thing for the sake of feeling good because you've just done a good thing, which pretty much waters your act of goodwill down to insincerity. Hence my unwillingness to give money to that poor kid. I won't let myself be drawn to insincerity.
But at the same time, I was deeply troubled by the fact that I didn't really help that kid by not giving him anything, either. Like so many others that have seen that kid, I merely looked at him and then forgot all about the experience once I lost sight of him. I was disturbed by the fact that, here I am enjoying the fruits of my so-called labor, while at the same time there are children like that kid who can't even enjoy a decent meal because he was born into a circumstance that never gave him the chance to do so.
Apathy? I don't think so. Apathy is when someone has been totally desensitized by the issue at hand that he has lost the motivation to do something about it. No, I felt sympathy at the kid, and I somehow empathized with his feelings, since I, too, was a child at one point in my life. I may not have been as unfortunate as him, but I did know the feeling of loneliness, of helplessness, of not being able to do anything about my circumstance. Nobody deserves that kind of life.
If I was to describe myself at that moment, it wouldn't be apathetic, nor would it be sincere, but rather, it would be helpless. I thought was helpless in the face of the situation. Maybe I could have gotten out of my way to help that kid by bringing him to some shelter, or to the proper authorities. But that would probably expose myself to the danger of being attacked by whoever was in charge of watching that kid. I'm aware that there are criminals who run syndicates dedicated to making children ask for alms, and so trying anything with that kid without a policeman or security might risk endangering my safety. Also, I've never tried taking anybody to DSWD. I don't exactly know how that situation would play out. Giving him money won't exactly help him either, because it might just go to whoever was watching that kid. Or, at the very least, be spent on a piece of bread that won't even last for a night. In the end, I believe was totally useless for this young kid. I was another strange face in the crowd that didn't really matter to him.
Maybe. That's what I believe.
But maybe it was also because I am so consumed by my journey to self-actualization that I don't want to be sidetracked by anybody or anything. Maybe I didn't want to get out of my way for this kid because of the fact that I would have to get out of my way for him. I didn't want to do that, maybe. There's still this idea that I am entitled to the fruits of my labor, and that I am entitled to rest from my labors once in a while because I worked for those rewards.
However, there's this sentiment in me that I can't really shake off: how can I be happy when there are poor people around me? How can I enjoy my money and my time if other people can't enjoy theirs? How can I be so selfish to just think of myself and forget the pain and suffering that other people have to go through every day?
How dare me to live like this in spite of the poverty in the world?
I don't think it would be fair to myself, to let myself be blind and ignorant of the suffering that there is in the world for my own sake. To just blind myself to the rest of the world so that I can pursue my own salvation. It's not fair. To me AND to everybody.
It looks like it's time for me to do something useful.
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