Last fortnight, I had an unusual and unexpected encounter, which left me in an emotional and contemplative mood.
My heart bleeds for the poor and those that subsist on the crumbs of society.
Every day they awake only to be wounded by pangs of despair and despondency that shape their lives.
In this country, most are isolated, have language difficulties in sharing their problems with the authorities or lead sedentary lives that chews their hearts and minds with hurtful thoughts. Such thoughts drive some towards suicide.
As I got out of my car in Onehunga, an elderly Chinese woman came up and offered me a bag of lemons for $3.
I said I did not need lemons. I realised that she could not speak English but managed to say, “Me no money, me buy food!” On hearing this, a flash of sorrow hit me like a lightning. Like many people, I do not carry cash with me. I went back to my car and scraped whatever money I could (certainly more than $3) and gave it to her.
She took the money and I saw her disappear in the distance with the bag of lemons dangling in her hand. She may have bought herself lunch and hopefully was able to sell that bag of lemons but she would never be aware that she left me with thoughts of sorrow and sadness that will remain with me for some time.
I saw her as a genuine person. She must have left home with that small bag of lemons to sell and buy food for herself. In her desperation, she did not choose to sell it a Chinese for ease of communication but chose any person who would make a purchase and pay her money.
Uncharitable label
I am a person of Indian origin, commonly labeled as lacking in charity.
I reject this notion with validation.
I belong to a race that produced Mahatma Gandhi whose life was a measure for charity unequaled by any philanthropist in the history of humanity.
Did I look rich to this woman? Probably not, as I dress not to impress but for my comfort. Under those garments is a heart that is full of kindness for the poor, distressed and distraught.
This small act of kindness that I extended to a fellow human being has not left me satisfied. It has left a raging storm in my mind and a heart that wants me to return to the same place and see if that mysterious woman reappears.
Universal language
Universally, the language of poverty is same. People who suffer it meet others on the plane of humanity. Religion, race and colour vanish, as walls that commonly divide us crumble.
History is replete with incidents where people of different races and religion unite unconditionally in adversity. The power of adversity to unite people is driven by the urge to triumph over it. Subsequently, it establishes enduring relationship that transcends several generations.
Our Indo-Fijian community is testimony to this belief. Our forebears went to Fiji, as indentured labourers (1879-1919). They comprised a significant number of Hindus and Muslims and suffered the atrocities of Girmit (indenture period in Fiji) together. They embraced each other in suffering, wiped each other’s tears and bore the gruesome period as one people.
The pioneer generation passed away but the successive generations of Hindus and Muslims from Fiji maintain close and cordial relations.
Religion is divisive but adversity almost always unites us, giving us the opportunity to share and respect each other’s cultural and religious values.
Similarly, poverty has the power to unite people and shared response against it is always better.
Spreading compassion
It is sad that a developed country like New Zealand should have people who wake up each morning to an empty kitchen where there is no food.
Mere thought of it hits them like a bullet, as they seek to fend hunger and poverty in various ways, as in the case of the Chinese woman trying to sell a bag of lemons to buy food for herself.
We see images of people in African countries like Somalia, dying of hunger and poverty on television.
New Zealanders, renowned for their charity, pour their hearts with aid to make some difference in the lives of such victims. While this is commendable, perhaps we also need to be aware of our neighbourhoods, as it may also harbour people and families struggling to feed themselves.
Wearing a heart of compassion, kindness and generosity is the price we pay for being human beings. An act of kindness or generosity has a tonic effect on our lives.
Let me return to the enigma that has waged this storm in my life.
I returned to the same spot on three successive days at about the same time to see if this mysterious woman reappeared with her bag of lemon. She did not.
I am pleased and reassure myself that she was not a fraudster or one habituated to live by stealth. However, one needs to be cautious and careful, as there are others who are out there to rob you with tales that will melt your heart.
I have been through this road too. Just be kind, cautious and generous!
Email: raj.prasad@xtra.co.nz
