Concept of the Day: Community
There is a girl who comes often to my door asking for leftovers. Sometimes she comes by herself, sometimes with her little sister or a friend, and once or twice she has come with her mother. She is beautiful, the girl. The kind of beautiful that makes you a little sad. She has a resemblance to her mother, although the mother is not beautiful, and doesn’t look like she ever was. I have not asked her name, because it would make no difference, but I did ask once where she lived, and she pointed south, towards a dangerous neighborhood called Afghanistan (I mean no disrespect, but it is called that way because it is a war zone of sorts). She said that her father worked, but they are three children, plus the mother, and the food is never enough. It struck me as odd back then that, besides beautiful, she is very clean and polite. This is not normal among beggars.
Let’s put aside the debate to whether or not food should be given away like that: to people banging on your door, claiming to be hungry. This debate is good for zones of the world where food is commonplace and you can always find something cheap, even if not too nutritious, to calm your stomach. That is not the case here, people with steady nine-to-fives are having trouble feeding even themselves, let alone a family of five. I understand this. I have gone through the toil of scarcity myself. It is not good to be hungry and I do not wish anyone to go through that experience. And that is why I help however I can, even with a piece of fruit or leftover rice, without further moral considerations.
The true debate I would like to engage in is not related to food.
One noon, the mother of the girl came by herself and knocked on the door. Just like her daughter does, she asked for a glass of water first, as if the water was the only purpose for her visit. After she drank it, she asked me if she could use the bathroom. I recoiled, because the question was very unexpected. My husband, who was close by but out of sight for the woman, noticed my hesitation and yelled “NO”. This gave me the perfect excuse to shake my head and say “I’m sorry” about a thousand times before I closed the door.
It felt bad, but it felt right. After all, I don’t know this woman, I have not had a real conversation with her, and I don’t really think I could.
The day after, the girl came knocking again. Looking at me from her short height, eyes big and wide as if asking for ice cream, and jumping from side to side, she said: “Could you lend me your bathroom?”
I’m not young enough to believe this to be a coincidence. And that brings me to my question, or, to put it better, my social doubt: I know this girl represents no harm, I know she is good, she radiates kindness and openness and youthful passion and hope. But it’s not her I worry about. She answers to her mother, and it was most obviously her who sent her, I don’t know for what reason. To be honest, I felt a little scared for the rest of that day.
Then again, I have had the horrible, bursting necessity of peeing while on the street and I know you’d give anything to be close to a friend’s house just so you can go and relieve. The thing is that I’m not their friend, and somehow they either confused me with one or have the usual practice of entering the houses of strangers.
The word COMMUNITY comes from a latin term that entails the ownership of equal rights and duties. They are almost my neighbors, geographically speaking. I see them both often. I know they walk the whole town asking for food in different sectors each day. I know they practice a Christian-derived religion because of how the mother dresses, and I know for a fact they need all the help they can get. Sometimes I even thought about the possibility of sitting down with the girl and talking to her about her dreams and prospects. I’m not rich, but if I can spare a book, a notebook or some clothes, I’d rather give them to her than anyone else. But I cannot, under any circumstances, allow either of them inside my home.
Why?
This is the doubt that eats me from the inside everytime I see her. Is she not common with me? I don’t feel we are common. I feel she lives in a level I cannot share or even understand. The possibility of my mother sending me to ask strangers for leftovers during my childhood is far from real. And the thought of sending a child of mine to do it, well… I’d rather not find out.
I understand necessity, what I don’t understand is why they thought I had given them that much confidence. And the saddest part is, the girl is paying for my lack of trust towards the mother.
My home is for my family and friends, and even with family I have reservations (I’m not too good with critics, you know what it’s like). I like to help. I help because I have respect for all living things, but if this woman (the mother) had had such respect for me, she would’ve never asked.
- Image credits: Pexels on Pixabay
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I suppose where you live, there's a transition period going on. The whole system is changing. The woman and her child are an expression of this and possibly a harbinger.
In a country like mine such a thing does not happen (yet?). Those who beg stay in their public places and don't ring the doorbell and still have other possibilities to feed and sleep.
Where you live, I can imagine that perhaps someone else has already opened the door and the private sphere for a stranger to go to the toilet.
Every system is subject to continuous changes. Some of these changes can be observed during our lifetime, others move through a kind of loop, have already begun in the past, influence the present and continue into the future. The closer this change comes to you, the more personal it becomes.
Yes ... To get across the rift to this woman, you'd actually have to let her in. I assume that then further limits would fall and the idea hurried ahead that she would want to sit at the table and sleep in bed at some point. Yeah, doing a toilet business is a very intimate thing.
A large wave of refugees has arrived here in Germany. Some people who can afford it have actually opened their homes and let Syrian refugees live with them. But this is an absolute minority. I personally have no room for it and I couldn't afford it either. Not to mention the emotional matter where I'm not sure how to deal with it.
As far as respect is concerned, I would say that this is a kind of luxury good that people who feel desperate or in danger do not care for. I believe that since I myself have never been in such a situation, I cannot imagine going beyond the fine line that distinguishes dignity from unworthiness. I guess it's like you say. Your feelings and the feelings of the child do not take precedence over the mother's mental state.
It leaves me with the question if your community maintains space for beggars and the poor?
There is no official place for them. The public officers of the Municipality sometimes gather homeless people to bathe them, give them clothes and some food and then let them go (there is no place for them to stay). I think it's different in the case of refugees, even though they are also strangers. In 1999 there was a huge flood in a poor city next to the see. A river up on the mountains overflowed because of excess of rain and a large wave with rocks and debris wiped out most of the town. Millions were relocated into empty public spaces like government buildings and parking lots, but no established families allowed them into their homes. There was a very controversial case about a hotel owner who refused to located the refugees into the empty rooms of his hotel because it would be bad for business. I can understand both sides.
The problem is not the toilet. To be honest, what bothered me most was that a stranger would look into my home and see what I have (books, cats and piles of dust). It made me feel very insecure. I feel a little bad that I didn't allow her. I feel like I did wrong and I'm trying hard to convince myself that I did right: hence, the post.
Would you allow a stranger to live with you and your son?
It must be a thing of social evolution, like you say. Here, when there were less people, it was common to have always a large pot of soup boiling in the fire, in case a traveler came. And if needed, there would be a hamock ready for anyone needing a place to sleep. That custom is gone, I don't know what happened in between.
It is a matter of self-confidence and also trust in strangers. In some cases the trust is abused, in some not. It is extremely difficult to dance this dance of human encounter. The resonance between two people on an unconscious level plays, I think, an essential role. At all times, people had to consider whether or not they wanted to allow a stranger access to food and necessities. The inner intention, which is not openly spoken of in such moments, but which, when one listens into oneself, nevertheless comes across, is decisive for how one behaves towards one another. I think there is no general answer to the question of whether you should have let the woman in, but only an individual, momentary one.
Would you want to undo your decision?
I would not rule it out that I would let strangers live with me if I had enough space and money to afford it. I'd have to rely on my knowledge of human nature. However, it is unavoidable that you are still wrong or that things happen that you have not taken into account. Life is always a risk, where you have good and bad experiences. However, I think that people generally respond positively to encouragement and to their good potential. A deeply suspicious person should not let strangers live with him.
If it were normal to have a pot of food ready for beggars or travellers, one would have developed a habit in it. I assume, for example, that in seven out of ten cases trust would be justified and in the other three cases someone is acting ethically wrong. Since we no longer cultivate such a culture, there is no established habit in it. That's sad in a way. ...