A few weeks ago Lizi and I were walking home from the pub when we were approached by an elderly gentleman who crossed the road to ask us for money. He must have been in his 60‘s, he was reasonably well dressed in a shirt and corduroy trousers, his grey hair was quite neat and he looked pretty respectable.
I must confess at this point that I don’t usually give money to beggars. There are several reasons for this; one is that as a child I was told that getting your wallet out in a public place put you at a greater risk of being robbed. Another is that I hate the idea that the person in question might use my money to buy drugs rather than food or to pay for somewhere to get a shower and some sleep. Add to this the fact that growing up in Orkney doesn’t exactly prepare you in ways to respond to people begging on the streets.
There are sadly quite a lot of homeless people in London and it’s something that I still find hard to accept. I know that if things got really bad in my life I’m fortunate enough to have plenty of family and friends whom I could rely on to help me get back on my feet. So why isn’t someone helping these people? Anyway, back to our old man. He didn’t just ask for money in the usual, “have you got any spare change” way, instead he told us that he had lost his wallet while in London to see a doctor. He said he had angina and that he just needed some money so he could check into a cheap hotel for the night because he had missed his train home. As we were almost back at my flat and therefore not on a busy road, his story seemed pretty convincing, and to be honest quite sad, I decided to part with a fiver as a gesture of good will. He speedily took the note from my hand, said thanks and hurried off.
I was pretty convinced that he was genuine and it made me feel good that I’d helped him out. Imagine my disappointment, not to mention irritation when a few days later Lizi tells me that on her way back from the shop she meets the same man, who proceeds to offer her the same sob story in return for cash. Needless to say she declined.
I find the homeless issue quite upsetting because I’d like to be able to help, but I don’t think giving them money is the way to do it. I suspect there is more to each homeless persons story than meets the eye and I do often wonder why a family member or a friend hasn’t stepped in to help before they have been left with seemingly no option but to beg for money on the street and sleep in St. James’s Park. The only conclusion I can come to is that somebody may have initially helped them, but they have abused that help, perhaps in pursuit of drugs or alcohol. Having said that, I am aware that individual circumstances will vary and it wouldn’t be right to generalise. Fortunately there are organisations which can offer support, like Shelter and the Big Issue foundation.
The credit crunch has exacerbated the problem and although its reassuring to know that there are organisations making a difference I still find it upsetting that more isn’t being done. Since the unfortunate encounter with the old man I spent a couple of days in Exeter with my extended family. Unfortunately the reason for us getting together was to attend my grand fathers funeral. It was a somber affair as you would expect, but he had been very ill on and off for some time and I think we all felt that for him to die peacefully in hospital having reached 85 called for more of a celebration of life than anything else. The family all pulled together to offer support to each other and in particular, my grandmother who was stunningly composed throughout. I’m convinced that a strong community network is equally as important as a supportive family. Perhaps if some of our major cities could cultivate the kind of communities you find in Orkney then for the homeless people we see on our streets things might be different.
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