stolen rice

A question was posed to me – what I do with beggars on the streets when I am approached? Do I give them money? Food? Turn my head??

We went to the fish market yesterday for lunch. In Maputo, this is a must visit. You buy the fish in the market fresh, then walk around the corner, pick a restaurant and they cook it for you. Seating is in beer-garden style, with plastic beach tables, sand on the floor, live (horrible) music, and people walking around trying to sell you things. Yesterday the boutiques being walked around were all “tasteful” nude paintings for some reason. I was at a table with my three bodyguards (as I called my three tall well muscled colleagues I was with all week :-)) and the paintings made for quite some conversation starters. We had a working lunch, enjoyed plates full of clam, shrimp, lobster and fish steak (I don’t know what they ate – my eyes were on the shrimp – a favorite from my time in Moz).

We had cleaned up just about everything on the table, but some rice and a little salad. A small boy (my guess is he was around 10-12yr) came over and started to beg. I noticed his eyes at first, and it wasn’t until our country director told him to take the rice and salad did I notice his hands were open and he was bowing, begging for food. His clothes were tattered and dirty; his hands unwashed. He pulled out a small black plastic bag from his pocket and began to quickly try and transfer the left-over food into it. We sat in silence and watched him. He struggled at first; the bag was too small. Nathan reached over to help the boy. I sat across the table, watching, and uncomfortable. The look in the boys eyes was one of mercy. It was as if he was pleading with me not to judge him, not to shame him, but to have mercy. Show compassion. He was only hungry.

My initial reaction surprised me. I had forgotten what it is like to be challenged with this level of poverty face to face. The area of Nairobi I live is clean and there are rarely homeless people on the street. If I were to drive downtown or just 10 minutes to another suburb, I would be pulled at and asked for money. Glue sniffing street boys would surround me. But day to day, I do not see this. In Quelimane, after a night of eating out with the girls, we would always take away any leftovers and hand to the ill woman living on our street corner near the apartment. I had forgotten.

What do I do when I am approached by someone begging for a handout? I am uncomfortable. I often don’t know how to respond. Or I turn my head and walk away. And I don’t like any of those responses. There are many things with this new organization I work for that I struggle with. But one thing they do not compromise on, no matter how many questions are asked, is why we are here and around the world working. Our mission is to be the good Samaritan. It is to offer food, water, and shelter to those in most desperate situations. It is to provide hope, extend God's love, and show mercy.

I respect that. Theologies vary and beliefs are challenged as one travels the world and is faced with many different situations that alter points of reference. But aside from all of that, is the very basic. Humanity. Eyes begging for mercy. Stolen rice.