Let's face it. I'm not a blogger. I am just not disciplined enough. (Or maybe I'm too disciplined to let myself post any thing that hasn't been rewritten 20 times and rethought 100 times.)
In any case, since I'm so poor at posting regular current thoughts and experiences I thought I'd type up something I found today in my notebook that I had written down several months ago...
January 2012
I can't get her out of my mind. There was something about her that struck me. For some reason this time she wasn't just another kid on the streets.
Last week when we visiting another city, we were walking back to the hostel one night. A girl, probably 8 or 9 years of age, was begging on the street corner. She didn't look destitute, but her clothes were worn and her face was dirty. She came up to us with her empty plastic cup asking for money.
We smiled, but ignored her pleas, and continued to walk down the street like we've been told to do. They say you're only feeding the begging system if you give them money. They say especially be wary of giving money to children because an adult probably put them up to it.
And I think there is some truth in what "they" say. And sometimes I heed their warnings.
But I couldn't this time.
I've seen dozens and dozens of begging children. I've seen hundreds of people with an empty cup on a cold street corner. But for some reason this girl struck me in a way no one else had. There wasn't anything noticeably different about her from all the other begging kids that have tugged at my sleeve.
I saw her this time.
Of course I've always found these children heartbreaking, but this time I looked at her, I saw her eyes and I felt my heartbreak. I heard it crack.
We walked by her, trying to politely ignore her somewhat annoying pleas. But she persisted. she kept up with our quick pace. She walked by our side, almost in front of us as if to block our path, as if to us her cold little body as a barrier though she be ignored and pushed aside. But it was her eyes that made me stop in my tracks.
Her eyes stared blankly ahead, never making contact with mine. They were dark and glazed over. As if she did not expect to be treated like a human person. She stared dully at nothing and continued to tap her cup at us in mechanical, emotionless rhythms of movement. It was if her mind was far removed from that dark street and her arm knew how to make a begging gesture on its own from far too much practice. "What must that do to her soul?" I wondered. What must begging do to her view of herself? Having to feel so degraded, being walked past without so much as a glance, being ignored, having to release her right to respect, having to act like merely a pestering, begging arm - what was that doing to her heart? How was that damaging her mentally and emotionally? How did this affect what she thought about herself?
It was so much more than merely humbling yourself to have to become embarrassed by begging. She was seen as a beggar, and somewhere along the line she became merely another beggar on a street corner instead of a child in need of protection. I stopped and put ten kuai in her cup. I wish I could have put Hope in her cup. She glanced up at me quickly, murmured half of a thank you and then ran down the street to chase some other foreigners. She probably thought I was just paying her off. Putting money in her cup so she'd leave us alone. But I just wanted to acknowledge her. I wanted her to feel seen.
I should have gotten on my knees and given her a hug. I should have taken her to the store and bought her a proper coat.
Maybe she doesn't even need the money. Maybe she is not poor at all, one might say. Maybe she's fed fine and just works for some grown-up. But does that make it any less horrific? Does that damage her precious soul any less? She is still on that street corner when she should have been in a warm bed having someone read a bedtime story to her. She was still being ignored. Her eyes were still lifeless and hopeless.
I've seen a hundred of these kids, but for some reason I cannot get her face out of my mind. For some reason I cannot help but cry for her. Specifically for this one.
God be with her. You know her name.
