Wednesday 23 May 2007

Twenty yards from Love

This post will probably be somewhat useless, but I'm trying to define a correct attitude for relating to someone who lives on the street, and I'm starting to think that there isn't one, unless we really are "in the same boat". This said, I've been relatively good in the past. The guys in my street really liked me, even though I was not giving them a penny most of the time and jockingly told them to get a job. They respected me for not engaging in charity. Danielle: she's tough, she's always telling us to get off and go to this and that place.

Maybe I should owe up to flirting quite a bit -I think flirting is a gift from God-. I would not say much, but I would convey something along the line of "look, I like you, we live in a nice social democratic country, plenty of services, so if you stay here it's your fault, if it was me I'd go". I flirt like there's no tomorrow, who around here is a feeling a bit unloved? Don't you guys know how God loves every single hair on your head? And (on occasions) I do to: I won't let you grow cold, hungry, or desperate.

Fortunately, I don't overestimate the hardship they're in. Sleeping on the street is tough, but manageable. I've done it (not often) but enough to know. So it doesn't freak me out quite that much, and I don't engage in condescending -at least I try not to-. If they complain about some stuff, I will listen and then de-escalate and complain about my own very hard life (usually something real like: I don't get on with my boss).

I think they knew that they could ask me for help if something came up. When I saw one regular smiling guy really scared one day, almost tearful, he really needed five euros, and wanted to kneel in front of me (FUCKING HELL MAN!) so I would give them to him. I didn't believe his story but I thought it might be a good idea to do so.

This guy later helped me reach a defensive newcomer who wouldn't trust anyone but him, and me by extension: on that day, we got him to leave the spot he'd been surviving in for one week. I miss living near St Maurice Church: 20 yards from you and twenty yards from God.

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