While at lunch yesterday, Alex made an interesting observation about the people we have become while in the Middle East and North Africa. Of course, we have essentially adapted to a new culture with different standards and taboos but this has translated into disturbing changes in our attitudes.
So here was the situation: we were eating chicken and rice at one of the restaurants we frequent in Fez, and a little girl, no more than 5, approached us with a couple packages of tissues. It was quite obvious that she wanted to sell us the packages for a dirham apiece, but we treated her like any adult beggar and shooed her away.
The fact that an older woman, presumably the cute little girl’s mother, was encouraging her to sell the tissues to us did not pass our attention. But I am not so sure if that is a justification for being rude Westerners to such an adorable little girl who happened to be born of a beggar woman.
What bothered me most was the little girl’s demeanor. She held herself almost like a grown woman. She had the facial expressions of a seasoned beggar, and the insistence of an adult. These are learned traits, most likely from watching her mother approach countless people on the streets. Regardless, she had lost the innocence of childhood in her face and it was replaced by something much colder.
To tell the truth, I don’t remember the episode well. We come across so many beggars in the street and around the restaurants we eat at that I don’t even notice anymore. In contrast, during my first year in New York City it was a shock to see homeless people and beggars in the streets or subway stations. I almost felt obligated to give money, although friends and elders dissuaded me from doing so.
So what has happened to Alex and I during our travels? Has being subject to widespread poverty pushed us into an elitist or ethnocentric mindset? Definitely we appreciate being Americans more than ever. And often I try to convince myself that the problems of Middle Eastern nations do not concern me, and thus I should not have to hand out money to the desolate citizens of defective governments.
Living in areas consumed by poverty, Morocco being much worse than Beirut, must desensitize us to the effects of it. The little girl cannot even get twenty cents out of us, and the woman asking us for money for water is answered with a wave of the hand. This vicious circle began when we simply declined the services of “tour guides” and bothersome shopkeepers, and after months of this our indifference shows no preference to men, women or children.
Of course we are only students, and we would go broke if we shelled out money to every beggar on the street. I am not so optimistic that I can save the world poverty single-handedly. At least not right now. Maybe our indifference is the only way we can cope in a society that doesn’t care for its poor.
It is true that citizens of both Lebanon and Morocco usually do not give a second look at beggars. In fact, we have witnessed some terrible acts carried out by Morrocans against their own poor.
Not too long ago, while having dinner, a group of tourists called over a little beggar girl who was selling fake flowers. She had a sad face, laced with dirt, and she didn’t make a sound when they asked her how much the flowers were. She probably sold them every day for hours, and made only a handful of dirhams. Who she gave the returns to at the end of the day, who knows?
The tourists seemed to like her enough, and they wanted a couple of pictures with her. Although Moroccans are not keen on having their picture taken, she didn’t seem to mind. If I was in her position and I thought the tourists would buy more flowers if I cooperated, I would’ve amicably agreed to take pictures with them.
The waiter of the restaurant was not so happy about the situation. He approached the table like a pissed off father, unreasonably angry that his daughter was being intrusive. The girl, however, was being nothing of the sort. She was invited, and the tourists had no qualms. They even tried to calm the waiter, saying they would love to have some pictures with her.
But the waiter was determined to shoo her away. She probably picked up the fact that he was irritated, and she began to walk away, looking more sad than ever. He made her walk around him, and as she was leaving he hit her extremely hard on the head. I don’t mean a slap, he PUNCHED a little girl.
In his American way, Alex found himself unable to let it go and yelled at the waiter. It went something like this:
Alex: “Hey, don’t you ever hit a girl like that.”
Waiter: “What?”
A: “You heard me, if I ever see you hit a girl like that again I will hit you. You are not her father. That was unacceptable. And stupid.”
W: “You have no business in this. She is not allowed here. You can eat here, but this is no business of yours. It is our policy not to allow them here.”
A: “A man shouldn’t hit a little girl like that. I mean it, if I ever see you do it again…”
Me: “Alex, don’t. We are going to eat then leave. Just stop yelling.”
Rather than try to change the situation with yelling and more violence, I tend to be more passive and so I was trying to be the calm one at this point. I was just as upset as Alex, but there was nothing we could do to change what had happened. Alex’s intentions were good, but we are currently living in a country where hitting beggars, no matter the age or gender, is acceptable. Although I doubt the man would’ve so readily hit a 30 year old beggar man.
We don’t see such episodes everyday. In the handful restaurants we rotate lunches, we have witnessed waiters handing leftover food to beggars, or letting this sit down and have a plate of food for free. Not everyone treats the poor with such disdain, but animosity toward them is quite prevalent.
Everyday we see something very strange. One evening we were walking through a popular square, and we caught a ten year old smoking a cigarette. Well, we didn’t really “catch” him – he was doing it in plain sight of everyone. He was just walking around smoking, as if kids smoking at such a young age was perfectly normal.
Even more bothersome, was Alex’s story the night he had to catch a train at one thirty in the morning. At that time usually the streets are deserted, and nothing is open. But as Alex was walking, he came across a boy which he guessed to be younger than eight, sitting on a street curb and crying. He was crying loud enough for Alex to hear as he passed, and Alex guessed he was hurt or something. Alex did not stop to help.
It is our indifference at times like this, where if we were in America we would react in a completely different manner, that make me wonder what has happened in the last nine months. Surely, when I return to America I will throw a bit of money into the hat of a teenager trying to make some money playing the guitar on the streets, or my heart will go out to the deaf man selling sign language cards.
But what is the difference? In fact, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Didn’t the teenager in America, the deaf person or the bum in Central Park have numerous chances to be successful in life? Isn’t it still possible for them to get a minimum wage job and get off the streets? Why does my gut tell me to care for those living in poverty in America, in the land of opportunities and capitalism, and not the poor subject to the whims of usually less than desirable governments.
Perhaps it is nationalistic sentiments – I feel some kind of obligation toward my fellow Americans. I mean, it has to be more than just philanthropy. If I just had a big heart my obligations would extend to all peoples. Right?
More important question: Why, when seeing these things, are some people emotionally caught up in the injustice of it all – of all the poverty and desolation in the world – and put all their efforts into fixing it, while others resolve improve their own lives?
For instance, I have a friend who went to the Palestinian territories and after seeing so much tragedy and poverty can only think of how she is going to tear down the occupation wall and stop Israel’s human rights abuses against the Palestinians. It is a brave endeavor, without a doubt, and not one that most would take on.
Others can travel the world, see the same things, and afterward feel only fear that they themselves will fall into the same trap if they don’t ____________. Fill in the blank with whatever you like: finish their education, get a stable job, marry, prove themselves, etc.
In a nutshell, living in a region where poverty is rampant, and signs of it exist at every street corner, has truly revealed some aspects of our personalities that are a bit disquieting. When we return to America I’m sure this won’t extend to the Girl Scouts selling cookies, or the occasional fundraiser for high school sports, but it just makes one wonder…
So here was the situation: we were eating chicken and rice at one of the restaurants we frequent in Fez, and a little girl, no more than 5, approached us with a couple packages of tissues. It was quite obvious that she wanted to sell us the packages for a dirham apiece, but we treated her like any adult beggar and shooed her away.
The fact that an older woman, presumably the cute little girl’s mother, was encouraging her to sell the tissues to us did not pass our attention. But I am not so sure if that is a justification for being rude Westerners to such an adorable little girl who happened to be born of a beggar woman.
What bothered me most was the little girl’s demeanor. She held herself almost like a grown woman. She had the facial expressions of a seasoned beggar, and the insistence of an adult. These are learned traits, most likely from watching her mother approach countless people on the streets. Regardless, she had lost the innocence of childhood in her face and it was replaced by something much colder.
To tell the truth, I don’t remember the episode well. We come across so many beggars in the street and around the restaurants we eat at that I don’t even notice anymore. In contrast, during my first year in New York City it was a shock to see homeless people and beggars in the streets or subway stations. I almost felt obligated to give money, although friends and elders dissuaded me from doing so.
So what has happened to Alex and I during our travels? Has being subject to widespread poverty pushed us into an elitist or ethnocentric mindset? Definitely we appreciate being Americans more than ever. And often I try to convince myself that the problems of Middle Eastern nations do not concern me, and thus I should not have to hand out money to the desolate citizens of defective governments.
Living in areas consumed by poverty, Morocco being much worse than Beirut, must desensitize us to the effects of it. The little girl cannot even get twenty cents out of us, and the woman asking us for money for water is answered with a wave of the hand. This vicious circle began when we simply declined the services of “tour guides” and bothersome shopkeepers, and after months of this our indifference shows no preference to men, women or children.
Of course we are only students, and we would go broke if we shelled out money to every beggar on the street. I am not so optimistic that I can save the world poverty single-handedly. At least not right now. Maybe our indifference is the only way we can cope in a society that doesn’t care for its poor.
It is true that citizens of both Lebanon and Morocco usually do not give a second look at beggars. In fact, we have witnessed some terrible acts carried out by Morrocans against their own poor.
Not too long ago, while having dinner, a group of tourists called over a little beggar girl who was selling fake flowers. She had a sad face, laced with dirt, and she didn’t make a sound when they asked her how much the flowers were. She probably sold them every day for hours, and made only a handful of dirhams. Who she gave the returns to at the end of the day, who knows?
The tourists seemed to like her enough, and they wanted a couple of pictures with her. Although Moroccans are not keen on having their picture taken, she didn’t seem to mind. If I was in her position and I thought the tourists would buy more flowers if I cooperated, I would’ve amicably agreed to take pictures with them.
The waiter of the restaurant was not so happy about the situation. He approached the table like a pissed off father, unreasonably angry that his daughter was being intrusive. The girl, however, was being nothing of the sort. She was invited, and the tourists had no qualms. They even tried to calm the waiter, saying they would love to have some pictures with her.
But the waiter was determined to shoo her away. She probably picked up the fact that he was irritated, and she began to walk away, looking more sad than ever. He made her walk around him, and as she was leaving he hit her extremely hard on the head. I don’t mean a slap, he PUNCHED a little girl.
In his American way, Alex found himself unable to let it go and yelled at the waiter. It went something like this:
Alex: “Hey, don’t you ever hit a girl like that.”
Waiter: “What?”
A: “You heard me, if I ever see you hit a girl like that again I will hit you. You are not her father. That was unacceptable. And stupid.”
W: “You have no business in this. She is not allowed here. You can eat here, but this is no business of yours. It is our policy not to allow them here.”
A: “A man shouldn’t hit a little girl like that. I mean it, if I ever see you do it again…”
Me: “Alex, don’t. We are going to eat then leave. Just stop yelling.”
Rather than try to change the situation with yelling and more violence, I tend to be more passive and so I was trying to be the calm one at this point. I was just as upset as Alex, but there was nothing we could do to change what had happened. Alex’s intentions were good, but we are currently living in a country where hitting beggars, no matter the age or gender, is acceptable. Although I doubt the man would’ve so readily hit a 30 year old beggar man.
We don’t see such episodes everyday. In the handful restaurants we rotate lunches, we have witnessed waiters handing leftover food to beggars, or letting this sit down and have a plate of food for free. Not everyone treats the poor with such disdain, but animosity toward them is quite prevalent.
Everyday we see something very strange. One evening we were walking through a popular square, and we caught a ten year old smoking a cigarette. Well, we didn’t really “catch” him – he was doing it in plain sight of everyone. He was just walking around smoking, as if kids smoking at such a young age was perfectly normal.
Even more bothersome, was Alex’s story the night he had to catch a train at one thirty in the morning. At that time usually the streets are deserted, and nothing is open. But as Alex was walking, he came across a boy which he guessed to be younger than eight, sitting on a street curb and crying. He was crying loud enough for Alex to hear as he passed, and Alex guessed he was hurt or something. Alex did not stop to help.
It is our indifference at times like this, where if we were in America we would react in a completely different manner, that make me wonder what has happened in the last nine months. Surely, when I return to America I will throw a bit of money into the hat of a teenager trying to make some money playing the guitar on the streets, or my heart will go out to the deaf man selling sign language cards.
But what is the difference? In fact, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Didn’t the teenager in America, the deaf person or the bum in Central Park have numerous chances to be successful in life? Isn’t it still possible for them to get a minimum wage job and get off the streets? Why does my gut tell me to care for those living in poverty in America, in the land of opportunities and capitalism, and not the poor subject to the whims of usually less than desirable governments.
Perhaps it is nationalistic sentiments – I feel some kind of obligation toward my fellow Americans. I mean, it has to be more than just philanthropy. If I just had a big heart my obligations would extend to all peoples. Right?
More important question: Why, when seeing these things, are some people emotionally caught up in the injustice of it all – of all the poverty and desolation in the world – and put all their efforts into fixing it, while others resolve improve their own lives?
For instance, I have a friend who went to the Palestinian territories and after seeing so much tragedy and poverty can only think of how she is going to tear down the occupation wall and stop Israel’s human rights abuses against the Palestinians. It is a brave endeavor, without a doubt, and not one that most would take on.
Others can travel the world, see the same things, and afterward feel only fear that they themselves will fall into the same trap if they don’t ____________. Fill in the blank with whatever you like: finish their education, get a stable job, marry, prove themselves, etc.
In a nutshell, living in a region where poverty is rampant, and signs of it exist at every street corner, has truly revealed some aspects of our personalities that are a bit disquieting. When we return to America I’m sure this won’t extend to the Girl Scouts selling cookies, or the occasional fundraiser for high school sports, but it just makes one wonder…
