Beggars are Teachers

I work somewhere around the Central Market, Kuala Lumpur area and everyday I'd take the Putra LRT train to and fro(home-office-home). Everyday I will see a couple or more beggars in various conditions.

There's one really old guy who despite his rag tag look combs his hair slick to the side(with what, I cannot imagine - to make the slick, I mean), a what appeared to be a constantly broken leg on crutches. More than once, but not too often I do see a kind of wound on his head that makes me wonder if it was inflicted by one of his kind, or young punks who thinks themselves invisible, or some authority guy or other, or simply...himself? It takes all kinds, after all. But I haven't seen him around for a long time now. Wonder what happened to him? Perhaps I shouldn’t dwell on the possibilities of where he might be just now.

And then there's this old man whom I suspect is only playing at being homeless. Because though he begs, wearing his kain pelekat(sarong for males) and a seasoned shirt, no slippers at least until late evening(that's when he would have slippers on), he is always clean. Not a smudge on him except maybe on his feet for going around begging barefooted. Go figure.

Moving on, there's this guy who has some kind of urinary problem, wearing his urine pack for all to see as a tube runs out from a corner of his dirty shorts, his beard covering most of his lower face. His spot is in front of the escalator of the Central Market LRT and there he sits with his legs bent at odd angles, his urinary pouch or pack or whatever you callit settled sometimes on his hip and sometimes on the floor.

There's one teenager who has a clothes hanger that sometimes has a t-shirt hanging on it, and sometimes nothing. He hangs it from this bulb that's in the pedestrian tunnel from the Dayabumi bridge towards Central Market. He also has a tiny metal box(roughly 12" x 6" in size), of which contains his worldly belongings. He begs too, when he's not sleeping. I wonder what he does the rest of the day. I wonder what parent kicked him out, or that his ‘homelessness’ is by choice.

Everyday during lunch time, you'd see at the end of the Dayabumi bridge over Sg Klang, a what I think is Rohingga woman with a child, sometimes two sitting on her laps. And oh, sometimes a different Rohingga woman. And different kids. Okay, I don't really know what a Rohingga woman is called, but well, you get me. They are usually gone by the time we come back from lunch.

..and the list of beggars in Central Market, KL area goes on. However, of late, the beggar that frequents the streets of Chinatown, KL(Petaling Street, to be exact), his body twisted to painful distortion(it looked painful), has been in the place of that man with a urine pack. Sometimes upstairs in front of the small bakery at the station.

The others do not concern me as much as this one, and I'll tell you why. It's no secret that there are syndicates for these beggars to get their keepers(or whatever you call them) free money. These deformed beggars are exploited to the maximum when they are used to evoke emotion from passerbys who would give them their hard-earned money just so the keepers has a kind of income.

Commonly, people in general would say do not give money to these sort of beggars because they actually have keepers who keeps them well and feeding them the devil's own temptation. Drugs. And that by giving money, we are only encouraging such practice.

My concern for this man is this. If the beggar does not bring back 'good money', will his keeper hit him? Telling him he doesn't look pitiful enough, and maybe he needs help looking the part? And the help is in the form of a damaged spine, so twisted that the poor guy cannot sit up straight? Or, as I've seen on another similar-conditioned guy, his leg badly burnt the skin puckered all along his one leg and looking vulgar to the eyes of one not used to such sights? I look at these people and my heart goes out to them. Who knows, what kind of life lead them to their present conditions? Sure, they could have been born that way, but I don't think that's the case. Even if they were, who put them there? Who put them in the seat of a beggar with no other purpose in life but to look pitiful? Who knew what kind of potential they had in them before these sort of thing befell them?

So..what do you do?

Do you help them by giving them money and hoping they don’t get hit too hard? Scolded too harshly? Treated too cruelly? Or, is by giving money only making it worse for society by spurring on the practice of exploitation on the weak and helpless?

Another homeless I remember is an elderly woman. I like her attitude. She doesn't bother people and she, by no means is a beggar. She works for her food. I know,..or okay, so I guess she's homeless by her dress of grime and unruly hair. Why I like her is, she doesn't take life for granted and beg for her living. For her life. To live, to survive, this woman collect aluminium tin cans. The picture of this is so touching it inspires me in a way that is totally unexpected. The lesson in it for me is that in life, no matter how bad your situation is, never be too proud to get down on your knees and rub your hands with grime when you have to. However, hold on to your pride and don't sell it by ways of begging to make your way in the world. Not being proud and having pride. Two different things. Or, as in the Keanu Reeves movie, “The Replacements”…it’s the “same difference”.

In Islam, we are taught by our Prophet Muhammad p.b.u.h. to not give a beggar his fish, but give him a fishing rod and teach him to fish. Something along those lines. I totally agree.

However, I don't believe he mean us to be rigid. There are certain conditions when we have naught a fishing rod to give, but all that is available is a whole fish. To the guy with the crutches, perhaps he can work at something more than looking pained and pitiful.

To the guy playing at being homeless, I do hope someone out there really does take good care of him. I have been made to understand some old people, or not to discriminate, some people actually has this 'disease' or disposition where they just *had* to beg. I remember a case where an elderly beggar woman was once caught with having thousands of Ringgit in a bank account.

To the guy with the urine pack thingy,..I cannot say much for him. We might argue that he is young and able, thus he should do something with his hands. Be it as it may, remember the urine pack. Now, who would willingly touch anything that he may have come into contact with - much less buy something that he may have been able to make with his two hands? The same hands that touches that urine pack from time to time to adjust its position.

To the teenager. Now, he is young and able. Surely he could think up something. Like, recycle paper instead of cans since the lady already has taken up that line of profession in the area.

To the women with their children,...they should know better than to raise their children in *such* conditions, but perhaps they do not have the luxury of choice. As much as we'd like to think there's always choice, sometimes, people are simply left with absolutely no choice.

To the deformed guys.. God help them. They are helpless prisoners of heartless men.

To the woman with her aluminium cans,..I wish her the best of luck, of life. Maybe one day she'd strike gold among her aluminiums and the light that shines so brightly on her might shine on others too.

Having all that said,..it occured to me that then again, it's not in my place to say since I do not know their story. Each of these homeless, pitiful beggars may have their own stories to tell, reasons to stand by, and challenges in life to face.

Perhaps, instead of thinking of what I give to them in the form of monetary assistance, I should reflect on what they teach me, staring at me in my face.

That, regardless their background, their ethnicity, the fate that brought them to each of their unique conditions, they are people with history. Some deserving of understanding, of compassion, of help. Some,...none at all. In account of not knowing their histories, the only thing to do then is tolerate them so long as they do not create trouble for people around them, and hope the government has better plans for these people in the near future.

But that..is me. This is what I see, and instead of getting upset with these people and the situations they are in either by default, by themselves, by some devine intervention of another kind, of ...a past done wrong, I will take them with me in my heart and learn the lessons each of them has for me. From there, who knows? Maybe one day I would be able to make a difference.

Maybe not by much, maybe not at all. But maybe is the gate to all kinds of possibilities and I am not shutting it close.