“He who has pity on the poor ..."

 “He who has pity on the poor lends to the LORD,

and He will pay back what he has given. ~Proverbs 19:17.

Pretty awesome promise; but also a powerful challenge.

As I continue my treatment, I’ve spent a lot of time in the city.  Kampala is home to several million people.  Walking through the crowded streets is not a familiar nor desired activity for me.

One of the most difficult is seeing the poor.  People begging are in abundance, from the very old to the very young.  Babies who look too young to crawl have been trained to sit on the sidewalk with their hands open for a coin. I’m told the parents are waiting in the shadows, using these little ones to stir compassion. Or, they’ve rented the child for what amounts to about $10 per month to increase their chances.  Many of these children are part of a gang -- groups of children sent to beg and return the day's-take to their leader.  Knowing these things, I’ve made up my mind not to give to the children. There are many organizations set up to help them if they choose to access it.  But it’s not easy walking past them.

Then there’s the old, the crippled, the blind, the mentally handicapped.  What about them? I want to do something, but I struggle.  I’ve seen handouts do more harm than good.  And the needs, they are too great!  I fear if reached for a coin I would be swarmed. So, I do nothing.

But what happens to me as a result?  I‘m learning to harden myself against it; to become a bit more calloused than I was before, less moved by their suffering.  At times I even become irritated as a child follows me, tugging my skirt, begging a coin.  It makes me angry at their parents, uncomfortable and I don’t like being uncomfortable or angry.

I pray:  “Lord, what should I do?  What can I do? ”

There’s a certain young man.  I pass him on the same corner nearly every time I am in town, which lately is often.  This man has no legs. He sits in the hot sun, day after day, relying on people’s compassion to survive. As I pass, my heart aches … I want to give … but what good can my small gift do?  Tomorrow he’ll face the same thing … and the day after that.

Going through my illness has shown me some things.  One great lesson is the difference even the smallest gesture of kindness can make.  So, yesterday, I decided to sit down and talk to this man.  I learned his name: Sekerena.  And that he is a refugee from Rwanda and speaks very little English. I gave him a handful of coins and asked his favorite soda.  “Water” he replied.  I returned with the biggest, coldest one I could find.  When I passed later, the day was hot, and I saw him drinking.  It was such a small thing.  But at least for that day, he had water when he was thirsty.

As I walked back to my lodge, away from the crowd of downtown, a lady from behind, carrying a baby called, “Mama” (the way elderly women are respectfully addressed here).  I began to walk with her. Her name is Baptisa, and she said simply, “I’m hungry.”  Oh my heart!  If I help her today, what about tomorrow?  We walked and talked for some time. I asked her beliefs and we talked a little about Jesus and His great love for us. I gave her enough money for the day and she let me pray for her baby, sick with malaria. It wasn’t much, very little, but she left with a smile and look of relief and joy on her face.  Even if just for that day.

So, what’s the answer? It’s probably simpler than I think:  Love!  Give when we can.  Pray!  If each person did only that, only once, how different the world would be. I welcome your comments.

NOTE:  I could not disrespect these people by taking a photo. The photos above are from an internet library, but an accurate picture of some of the daily scenes here. It's common to see a child sleeping with their hands held out; or holding a younger sibling. And the crippled are many!