Friday, May 9, 2008

Hobophobia

So, that could not be more politically incorrect or judgmental. In fact, it may not even be relevant to what I wanted to say but I like how it sounds so it stays.

There are quite a few homeless people (or at least those scruffier than me) in Geneva and particularly around Cornavin one can feel like they are running a bit of a gauntlet. After a few conversations on the topic and questioning of my own view point I have rather recently decided to embrace a culture of giving and just say Yes. I mean, there are many arguments for why not but I sort of reasoned it down to the fact that they are poor and sad and want money, I have some to spare and think that showing love to fellow man is a nice thing to do. It's not really my money anyway (yes, I am the ring leader of an organised crime agency, hence location...). Plus who am I to say what they should do with it, if you lived on the streets maybe you would want to get drunk too. [Please feel free to fervently bash my flippancy I can happily debate this for hours.]

Anyway, it is easy enough for me to fish in my small change purse, dole out the silvers without missing the cash and the benefit is a warm fuzzy feeling. I'm not trying to buy a smile (which is good 'cause seldom does it get one) but it is pointless to try and deny that when we do things for other people it does feel nice.

I quite like local beggars too, they are a characteristic of a place and evoke a feeling of familiarity in the same way that the jet d'eau or giant floating football do; but today something so extraordinary happened that I did pause and say hang on mate, there is a line and that's just rude. Fortunately it was so hilarious that it leaves me with no lasting grudge.

I was walking to town to buy a train ticket ('citing but another story) and was in the park just behind the station when this guy on a bench asks me for some money. I am a bit rubbish in these situations and often pull the "I don't understand but I do care card": smile, thrust a token amount of jangly their way and wish them a good day (Queen of Glib). To my shock and hindsighted delight, the gentleman reviewed what I had offered (admittedly not that much, maybe only about 1CHF altogether) and returned to me the 5cent pieces.

Maybe he felt patronised; like the performers in Covent Garden who announce that this is their art so please don't bother if you aren't giving a pound or more. Sitting on that bench may not look like fire juggling but he sure had perfected it.

The ironic thing is, the week before when I had lost my card (turned up in the COOP btw, when I thought to ask for it 10 days later, which was nice) I had collected all my coinage together. Those 5cent pieces were what I had considered my salvation when I was temporarily without income.

So I guess it goes to show that no matter your 'status' in life you can still sit firmly above it. I'm not sure I am the hobophobe in this situation. Maybe Swiss vagabonds are just a little bit weller-to-do.

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