Tear revisited

September 23rd, 2007

Almost every day, on my way to 129 Square, I come across streetchildren begging. I walk past them as if they’re not there and enter a computer shop filled with young boys whose idea of deprivation is confined to buying a value meal from KFC instead of a pizza at Yellow Cab.

I’ve never told anyone this before, but the reason I walk past those children on the streets, the reason I clench my jaw and lift my chin and stare straight ahead unseeing, is that every time I look into their faces another part of my heart breaks and I have to struggle not to cry.

Looking past them is easier. Pretending numbs the pain. I’ve been told since I was young that it was wrong to give alms because it would only give people excuses to remain mired in poverty, wouldn’t force them to struggle upward, but each and every time I ignore a thin, piping voice calling to me and asking me for food I feel something in me die and an alien hardness take its place.

I don’t know what to do, but then again I never have. There’s nothing I can do without a corresponding cost, and even if I give, I don’t know if it would do more harm than good. Whenever I think about it, whenever my conscience pushes me to the edge and forces me to look at the bleakness of it all, I’m left with nothing but dust and ashes. What indeed are analytical solutions of minority games or new techniques in calligraphy or discussions on what makes speculative fiction Filipino, in the face of hunger and need? What are all those non-profit organizations compared to the overwhelming darkness in the world? What can we do? What do we matter?

What am I if I cannot help someone whose food for a month costs less than the books I buy? How dare I speak of art and learning when children have to learn cruelty and deceit to survive? What is the point of beauty without life?

How can I live like this? How do we sleep at night?

Entry Filed under: thoughts