I was minding my own business
Driving along from one appointment to another -- why didn't the South African like that nice bright one-bedroom? -- I took a wrong turn, or actually forgot to take the right turn. This was in Khalifa City A today, about 2pm. Khalifa City isn't really like a city, it's like a bunch of big boxes, some gaudier than others, and tall walls around them, and long stretches of empty sandy road in between. It was really windy and the sand was blowing. I was early for my meeting, and wasn't sure how to spend the next hour, and had almost decided to go find the Sas Al Nakhl compound so that I would be able to find it tomorrow with my client. But coming up on the right side of the road was this kid flagging down cars. There's not a whole lot of traffic out there, and almost no one with a mind to pick up hitchikers, till I came along. He may have been there for hours, kilometers from the town "center," miles from nowhere. I rolled down the passenger window and asked where he was going. "Sister!" He started babbling in a mix of arabic and hindi about Mohamed Bin Zayed City, his driver, his work. I said, "ok, I'm going to MBZ, get in."
Now MBZ is another half finished "city" with long stretches of empty road, and it's about 15 miles from Khalifa City, and neither of us really knew the way. We made it to MBZ ok, but once there drove around and around, consulting with laborers by the side of the road about how to get to someplace called ICAD, by the MPCC. We finally found it, I dropped him off, and then headed back to Khalifa City and my next meeting. The whole thing took an hour.
But that's not the main thing. The main thing is a reflection on helplessness. I've noticed before and again today that when I'm around really helpless people I start to feel this creepy mean feeling. It's like their weakness calls forth some sort of darth vader gruffness. This young man, a 20 year old kid, left his home in Bangladesh four years ago to make a life in the UAE. He earns 400 dirhams per month ($108). That's not enough to pay for his visa, himself, and still send money home, so he carries a debt. It is hard to be dignified in these circumstances. He has crabs, and couldn't help from scratching. He had all the body language of an abused animal, a whining muttering voice, skittering eye contact, and after ten minutes in the car together he asked for money and mentioned that he has never been in love, while looking at my chest. Three blatantly inappropriate things to do while accepting a favor from a stranger. In the next ten minutes he mentioned that his life has been wasted. Meanwhile I was impatient with driving him around. He couldn't read the signs, so when I would point and say, "which way?" he just looked confused. He could feel my resentment and started talking about how he was bothering me, causing me all this trouble, and then praise my good character, and that annoyed me more. "It's nothing," I said trying to be gentle, to let go of stupid darth vader. I didn't want to encourage conversation, and I was glad to say goodbye. I couldn't shake his hand fast enough! Now in the retrospective of things, I wish I'd given him some money for his visa debt, and I'm glad I picked him up. Who knows how long, or how much of his 400 dirhams, he would have had to spend to get home.
Anyway, this is part of a pattern. I started to feel this way with our Cameroonian neighbors, the ones who lived in our basement for free for six months. They were so desperate, and so alone, and it annoyed me. Annoyed me! I'm ashamed of it. Or really clingy people that need more than anything to be loved, but it's such a burden to feel that need; I want nothing more than to surreptitiously push them away.
What a jerk I am. I never felt that -- what is it, compassion fatigue of some sort -- with iola, and no one has been more helpless or needy in my life. But it's completely different. She's so bossy. She doesn't whine for love -- she rages for it. Expects, demands, commands it. I hope she'll have a deep well of compassion to go with all that power... she'll need it. There's a lot of hunger, debt and loneliness out there.
Now MBZ is another half finished "city" with long stretches of empty road, and it's about 15 miles from Khalifa City, and neither of us really knew the way. We made it to MBZ ok, but once there drove around and around, consulting with laborers by the side of the road about how to get to someplace called ICAD, by the MPCC. We finally found it, I dropped him off, and then headed back to Khalifa City and my next meeting. The whole thing took an hour.
But that's not the main thing. The main thing is a reflection on helplessness. I've noticed before and again today that when I'm around really helpless people I start to feel this creepy mean feeling. It's like their weakness calls forth some sort of darth vader gruffness. This young man, a 20 year old kid, left his home in Bangladesh four years ago to make a life in the UAE. He earns 400 dirhams per month ($108). That's not enough to pay for his visa, himself, and still send money home, so he carries a debt. It is hard to be dignified in these circumstances. He has crabs, and couldn't help from scratching. He had all the body language of an abused animal, a whining muttering voice, skittering eye contact, and after ten minutes in the car together he asked for money and mentioned that he has never been in love, while looking at my chest. Three blatantly inappropriate things to do while accepting a favor from a stranger. In the next ten minutes he mentioned that his life has been wasted. Meanwhile I was impatient with driving him around. He couldn't read the signs, so when I would point and say, "which way?" he just looked confused. He could feel my resentment and started talking about how he was bothering me, causing me all this trouble, and then praise my good character, and that annoyed me more. "It's nothing," I said trying to be gentle, to let go of stupid darth vader. I didn't want to encourage conversation, and I was glad to say goodbye. I couldn't shake his hand fast enough! Now in the retrospective of things, I wish I'd given him some money for his visa debt, and I'm glad I picked him up. Who knows how long, or how much of his 400 dirhams, he would have had to spend to get home.
Anyway, this is part of a pattern. I started to feel this way with our Cameroonian neighbors, the ones who lived in our basement for free for six months. They were so desperate, and so alone, and it annoyed me. Annoyed me! I'm ashamed of it. Or really clingy people that need more than anything to be loved, but it's such a burden to feel that need; I want nothing more than to surreptitiously push them away.
What a jerk I am. I never felt that -- what is it, compassion fatigue of some sort -- with iola, and no one has been more helpless or needy in my life. But it's completely different. She's so bossy. She doesn't whine for love -- she rages for it. Expects, demands, commands it. I hope she'll have a deep well of compassion to go with all that power... she'll need it. There's a lot of hunger, debt and loneliness out there.
I can imagine the same thoughts that you wrestled with going through the mind of the Good Samaritan as he comes across a naked Jew beaten and left for dead. All it takes to improve this world we live in is for one of us to meet the need of another. Thank you.
I was just reading the old posts about Jim. They are such a blessing. He, too, was a Samaritan.
Mike
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rose, quinn clicked on your site a while ago- like a weekor two, and so I read thins, and it has passed through my mind several times since, because the image of the situation is so clear, and from your writing i get a sense of the feelings of both of you, and it really, i guess- bothered me, because it it seemed so sad and so sort of how it is- like this is the reason people, classes, don't mix more really. because it is so hard to relate across that divide.
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