Questions near the end

I saw him as I reached the top of the overpass. My mind registered “kid” and I knew I wasn’t going to give him anything. As I walked by I noticed he was older, old enough maybe to be on his own, and looked like he needed real help. I said “sawadee khrap” and he wai’d me, bending over at the waist. As I walked by I thought, “Okay, so I don’t give to kids because they’re part of rackets, or being taken advantage of by adults…but I can’t let that kid just sit there.” I was going to 7-11, so I got him a juice. I have a little rule of always getting something that costs more than what I’m getting myself, but it’s really meaningless and self-deceiving when you realize that 49 times out of 50 I buy myself food without getting anyone else anything at all. On my way back over I asked him if he wanted it and he nodded. As I reached the end of the overpass I peeked back and he was sucking away at the straw already. I turned down the stairs and broke to pieces inside. Why does he have to be there? Why can I do so little? And why do I fall apart now when this is happening all over the city every day?

At first glance I wondered why he was begging. He looked to be in his 30s, seemed to be eating plenty, why doesn’t he have a job? Then I noticed the deep indentation in his head, as big as a fist. Where did that come from? How does that happen to someone? Why are there so many people with such severe disabilities here? How will he have any other option than begging? The Catholic Church is doing impressive work with a couple quality education/work skills centers, but it’s like a drop in the bucket among the millions in Southeast Asia with serious disabilities. I gave him 40 baht, little more than a dollar, yet something I rarely do. As I dropped it in I saw only a few coins in the cup.

I always thought of him as the out-of-place looking guy in the church. Everyone else was so young, hip, westernized, while he was older, dressed different, walked stiffly. I thought he came from a different culture than many of the other members and from a lower social class. Only once did I ever talk to him, and very briefly at that. Then last week he walked over to us and gave us an umbrella. Why did he gift us like that? How are we of all people the ones who deserve a new umbrella? And how could he have possibly have known that my umbrella had just fallen apart the Tuesday before?

We went up and down the streets for the second time in three weeks. We walked by the park, checked the overpasses, combed the aisles of the 7-11’s. We talked to the kids who washed windows and even went down the red-light district that he eventually showed up in the last time this happened. After a couple hours we gave up. He’s only 11, but this isn’t close to being the first night he’s spent alone on the streets. We prayed against the predators, for food, shelter, and safety, and just asked that he’d make it through another night. I don’t know when this will end. Sometimes when you ask the same thing too many times the questions start to dry up.