Beggars in Paradise--give or not give?

Paul recounted an experience. At the noodle shop he has become such a regular that one of the waitresses has gotten a crush on him. Her name is Jian Hui. Although she speaks no English, she calls him 'Paul' and can mimic the phrases he uses all the time.

One day as he was arriving he witnessed an altercation between Jian Hui and a 'bag lady'. He quickly surmised that the woman ate but could not pay.

Jian Hui was yelling at the woman. The woman yelled back, and Jian Hui kicked her bag scuttling across the room. Undeterred, the woman continued her wheedling arguments, but Jian Hui turned her back. The woman tried to sidle away towards the exit, but the cook grabbed her by a shoulder and pushed her back. He then went into the washroom to wash his hands. Jian Hui returned a watchful, combative eye on the woman.

The woman wore drab grey trousers under a once colorful quilted silk jacket, now colorless with wear, grime and grease stains. Her hair was hidden under a felt cap pulled down over her ears, but for gray whisps that escaped. Around her ankles were layers of rumpled socks tucked in tieless boots.

The woman made repeated thrusts toward the door. Each time she was pushed back, more and more roughly by Jian Hui, who placed a palm squarely in the chest and shoved, sending the woman flying. The woman bounced against the tables. Jian Hui pushed. They reached the back wall, and held there at a stand off until the police arrived.

After questioning the woman in rough voices, they started to search her for the money she owed. One officer, then the other, took a stab at sorting through the outer layers, only to give up in disgust and go into the kitchen to scrub their hands. The police continued to menace her for long minutes, but at last it was obvious she was unable to pay. With a most severe reprimand and warning, they finally let her go. At about that time, the owner of the establishment arrived.

When the owner learned of the theft, he began to scream at Jian Hui. It seems that the Cantonese language does not allow for calm discussion, but only open throated screaming. At that point Paul called her over to his table.

"Why is he yelling at you?"

In their own sign language, they communicated. The boss put the blame squarely on Jian Hui, and wanted to hold her accountable for the lost money.

"How much?" Paul wanted to know.

"19 RMB."

Paul pulled out his wallet and pulled out a 20 yuan note.

"I'll pay for it. Tell him to leave you alone."

And in a clear voice, holding up a palm, she said, "No, Paul." And she meant it.

Paul was so proud of his brave little friend, totally impressed with her strength and fearlessness. He relished the details of the body slams delivered by his little warrior, and how she did not flinch or weaken at the plight of this pitiful woman. He carefully noted the details of the hand washing, so I might understand the filth and contempt.

Now that the weather is turning cooler up north, the south is receiving more and more of these indigents. The bus stops are a prime begging location. There seem to be two styles of begging. On the one hand, the beggars are bold, and put their begging bowl right into your face. On the other hand, I saw a man with his daughter at a bus stop when I was walking after sunset one evening. The child, about four years old, was lying on the pavement on her back, eyes closed. The father, dressed in a worn gray suit, squatted next to her body, hanging his head down over her. He had his hand in the collection can. It occurred to me that he was asleep, and stuffing his hand in the can prevented anyone from taking the pathetic few yuan that were there already.

Although I have asked, I have not learned of there being anything like the 'Gospel Mission' system that we have in the United States. The homeless and indigent have no where to go.

On my way to work Sunday morning, just 20 yards before the entrance to school, I saw the white bearded old gentlemen that I had encountered before in Wan Zai Sha, near my home. I found myself torn. I wanted to throw a few yuan into his pot. But then I reflected, how did he get this way? Where is his family? Or is he a wanderer, like some of us here, having walked a different path all his life. Has he now reached the last phase having worn out any familial feelings of obligation. Has he so alienated those who once loved him that he can no longer go back? I think of Timothy, an American here so deeply into alcoholism that he has burnt his bridges back home, and has come here to hide. His brilliance and good looks get him jobs and he seems to earn a good living, but his drinking and gambling leave him perpetually broke. How do I feel about him now? Do I want to 'lend' him more money, so he can drink and gamble some more, or do I want to speak earnestly to him and urge him to get help. And if he ignores my help, and winds up an old gray haired man wandering the streets, would I then feel obligated to put a few yuan in his cup?