Originally written on September 13, 2012.
South Africa. Cape Town. Within my first few days, the lady working for the organization who got me my internship gives me a brief orientation over drinks at the cafe downstairs. I don't remember all of what she told me, but I do remember the safety tips. Don't go out alone at night. Don't walk any long distance at night, even in groups. Don't carry a lot of money. Those were pretty easy tips to follow. Later, my roommate added another one: if someone asks you for change, ignore them. My bosses, who, by the way, started a social enterprise based on improving the lives of the less fortunate, agreed. One of them told me, "if someone asks you for money, just give them a very firm 'No,' and walk away."
On the way from my apartment to the supermarket, there were always people asking for change. There was a day hospital that must have had some kind of charity, because there were always homeless, relatively elderly people lined up outside of it with their blankets. One of the first times that I made the trip to the supermarket, a youngish guy who looked a little bit too well off to be begging for change held out a cup and asked for money as I was walking under an overpass. Everything that I'd been told kicked in, and I gave him a firm no, walked a little faster, and kept an eye on him as I went. He let me go without issue.
On another trip to the same supermarket, an older, more homeless-looking man sitting outside of a gas station asked me for change, and I instinctively gave him the firm no. Afterward, I thought about it and felt bad, because the man clearly hadn't been going to mug me. It bothered me that I had instinctively refused him out of fear, because he clearly needed the money, and I set some change aside and vowed to give it to him on the way back. Unfortunately, he wasn't there by that time. I learned from that, and later gave to multiple beggars without incident. Just in case, though, I'd never linger; I'd just give them the money and keep walking. At most, I'd say "sure" when they thanked me.
One day, I was leaving the Nando's that I had eaten lunch at, and someone asked me for change. It was on Adderley Street, one of Cape Town's busiest streets, so I didn't feel nearly as nervous as I usually would on the way to the supermarket, and I knew that I had some change in my pocket from lunch that I wouldn't have to open my wallet to take out. There were two guys, one of which was holding a nearly empty plastic pitcher. As they walked towards me, I saw the lady at the flower stand that they were leaving shaking her head at me. That, in conjunction with the fact that they were young and that there were two of them, should have sent up red flags for me, but in the two seconds that it took for them to walk up to me, all I thought was that I didn't have to take out my wallet, and that the lady probably disapproved of giving to beggars like so many other South Africans do.
I dropped a few Rand into the pitcher, and kept walking. The two of them kept pace with me, one on either side. The guy holding the pitcher was on the left, and he did all the talking. "Hey, c'mon, man, you can give more than that." I told him sorry, that was all the change I had. "Tell you what, there's an ATM in that store to the left. You can take out 10 or 20* [Rand]." I said, no, sorry, I've really got to get back to work. "Look, we're asking for money because we don't want to steal..." I don't say anything, but keep walking. "I could just reach into your pocket..." he says, as he starts reaching into my left pocket. That day was one of the few days that I had decided to bring my iPod with me, and my left pocket is where I kept it. Half out of instinctive protection of my it, and half out of blind anger, I swat his hand away, run a few steps forward to get some distance between me and them, and angrily shout, "Get the fuck away from me!" It takes them by surprise, and by the time they realized what's happened, everyone in a 20 foot radius is staring at us. As they realize that they can't do anything, and their faces go from surprise to disappointment, they slink away. I go to that Nando's a lot, but I never see them again.
I was never afraid. I probably should have been. At least one of them probably had a knife. All I was was angry. I still get angry whenever I think about it. Every day in Cape Town, I'd see people who needed money, and every day I'd see people who were afraid to give it to them. All because of stupid pieces of shit like the guys that tried to mug me. Because of them, people who really need money and aren't willing to hurt people for it are going hungry. When people are willing to give money, they get mugged, and most learn not to try again. Not all muggings are clean. Sometimes people get stabbed for trying to help someone else out. I can barely even begin to relate to the kind of asshole that would rather rob a person willing to give them money than a person who wouldn't give them a cent. Not only are they screwing over people who had wanted to help them; they're also screwing over all of the people that that person would have helped in the future. Sometimes, I wish I had been carrying a knife myself. It's probably a good thing for both me and them that I hadn't.
In case you're wondering, I kept giving change to people, but I was more careful about it after that. At one point, near the end of my time in Cape Town, I gave a homeless man a sleeping bag that I'd gotten for free as part of participating in some event. The guy was ecstatic. Couldn't stop telling me how thankful he was and about how he really needed one of these; the blankets that the charities give out don't help in the rain, and don't do much in the cold, either. I saw that he wasn't just happy to have a new sleeping bag; he was happy that there are people out there that are still willing to give away sleeping bags. Part of me was happy to see his faith in humanity restored. Part of me was angry that it had needed to be.
*At the time, about $1.50-3.00, which goes a little further in South Africa than it does in America, but what's worrying here is that he was asking me to go to an ATM to get him bills
South Africa. Cape Town. Within my first few days, the lady working for the organization who got me my internship gives me a brief orientation over drinks at the cafe downstairs. I don't remember all of what she told me, but I do remember the safety tips. Don't go out alone at night. Don't walk any long distance at night, even in groups. Don't carry a lot of money. Those were pretty easy tips to follow. Later, my roommate added another one: if someone asks you for change, ignore them. My bosses, who, by the way, started a social enterprise based on improving the lives of the less fortunate, agreed. One of them told me, "if someone asks you for money, just give them a very firm 'No,' and walk away."
On the way from my apartment to the supermarket, there were always people asking for change. There was a day hospital that must have had some kind of charity, because there were always homeless, relatively elderly people lined up outside of it with their blankets. One of the first times that I made the trip to the supermarket, a youngish guy who looked a little bit too well off to be begging for change held out a cup and asked for money as I was walking under an overpass. Everything that I'd been told kicked in, and I gave him a firm no, walked a little faster, and kept an eye on him as I went. He let me go without issue.
On another trip to the same supermarket, an older, more homeless-looking man sitting outside of a gas station asked me for change, and I instinctively gave him the firm no. Afterward, I thought about it and felt bad, because the man clearly hadn't been going to mug me. It bothered me that I had instinctively refused him out of fear, because he clearly needed the money, and I set some change aside and vowed to give it to him on the way back. Unfortunately, he wasn't there by that time. I learned from that, and later gave to multiple beggars without incident. Just in case, though, I'd never linger; I'd just give them the money and keep walking. At most, I'd say "sure" when they thanked me.
One day, I was leaving the Nando's that I had eaten lunch at, and someone asked me for change. It was on Adderley Street, one of Cape Town's busiest streets, so I didn't feel nearly as nervous as I usually would on the way to the supermarket, and I knew that I had some change in my pocket from lunch that I wouldn't have to open my wallet to take out. There were two guys, one of which was holding a nearly empty plastic pitcher. As they walked towards me, I saw the lady at the flower stand that they were leaving shaking her head at me. That, in conjunction with the fact that they were young and that there were two of them, should have sent up red flags for me, but in the two seconds that it took for them to walk up to me, all I thought was that I didn't have to take out my wallet, and that the lady probably disapproved of giving to beggars like so many other South Africans do.
I dropped a few Rand into the pitcher, and kept walking. The two of them kept pace with me, one on either side. The guy holding the pitcher was on the left, and he did all the talking. "Hey, c'mon, man, you can give more than that." I told him sorry, that was all the change I had. "Tell you what, there's an ATM in that store to the left. You can take out 10 or 20* [Rand]." I said, no, sorry, I've really got to get back to work. "Look, we're asking for money because we don't want to steal..." I don't say anything, but keep walking. "I could just reach into your pocket..." he says, as he starts reaching into my left pocket. That day was one of the few days that I had decided to bring my iPod with me, and my left pocket is where I kept it. Half out of instinctive protection of my it, and half out of blind anger, I swat his hand away, run a few steps forward to get some distance between me and them, and angrily shout, "Get the fuck away from me!" It takes them by surprise, and by the time they realized what's happened, everyone in a 20 foot radius is staring at us. As they realize that they can't do anything, and their faces go from surprise to disappointment, they slink away. I go to that Nando's a lot, but I never see them again.
I was never afraid. I probably should have been. At least one of them probably had a knife. All I was was angry. I still get angry whenever I think about it. Every day in Cape Town, I'd see people who needed money, and every day I'd see people who were afraid to give it to them. All because of stupid pieces of shit like the guys that tried to mug me. Because of them, people who really need money and aren't willing to hurt people for it are going hungry. When people are willing to give money, they get mugged, and most learn not to try again. Not all muggings are clean. Sometimes people get stabbed for trying to help someone else out. I can barely even begin to relate to the kind of asshole that would rather rob a person willing to give them money than a person who wouldn't give them a cent. Not only are they screwing over people who had wanted to help them; they're also screwing over all of the people that that person would have helped in the future. Sometimes, I wish I had been carrying a knife myself. It's probably a good thing for both me and them that I hadn't.
In case you're wondering, I kept giving change to people, but I was more careful about it after that. At one point, near the end of my time in Cape Town, I gave a homeless man a sleeping bag that I'd gotten for free as part of participating in some event. The guy was ecstatic. Couldn't stop telling me how thankful he was and about how he really needed one of these; the blankets that the charities give out don't help in the rain, and don't do much in the cold, either. I saw that he wasn't just happy to have a new sleeping bag; he was happy that there are people out there that are still willing to give away sleeping bags. Part of me was happy to see his faith in humanity restored. Part of me was angry that it had needed to be.
*At the time, about $1.50-3.00, which goes a little further in South Africa than it does in America, but what's worrying here is that he was asking me to go to an ATM to get him bills
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