The importance of showing kindness

In reading the article, “Raising awareness: youth homelessness” (AJN Melbourne 02/05) highlighting the support of the Gandel Foundation to tackle the scourge of young people experiencing homelessness, through initiatives such as ‘Sleep At The ‘G’ (MCG) May 15, my mind was transported to a recent encounter.

It was shortly after Pesach as I was walking to an appointment – I noticed a young man sitting, wrapped in a blanket, his few possessions strewn nearby on the footpath, holding a sign explaining his predicament. His temporary “camp” was outside the Woolworths store in the affluent Hawksburn Village – stylishly groomed locals, many Jewish, in this area rich with those of our persuasion, dashing past – “trendy” dogs tied nearby. Many clues illustrated the plight of this hapless human, sitting among the busyness of a Thursday afternoon, but there’s no need to mention them – to do so would be to betray the dignity of this stranger.

Like many, I don’t carry much cash these days, and always find it disturbing to walk past a homeless man or woman – but sometimes I do, I must admit. My reasons vary: I’m in a hurry, my mind’s elsewhere, I’m talking with a friend – and I never know how much to give. Whether it’s a $2 coin, a $10 note, or more, I always feel it’s not enough. But perhaps it’s just that I don’t want to face their gruesome reality. And my gut tells me that more valuable than any amount could be, is simply acknowledgement – a hello or even just a smile.

On this particular day I didn’t have time – but later, having returned to the village, I stopped for a sandwich in a charming family-run cafe.

Revived, I continued my walk, spotting the homeless man again still outside Woolies. This time, doing something I’ve done before, I asked his name and if he’d like something to eat and drink. You’d think I’d handed him a $100 note – so grateful, he told me his name was David, appearing pleased too to learn mine. He requested a flat white with four sugars! When I gasped at the idea of four sugars, he smiled, explaining he needed to make himself sweeter.

Returning to Café Latte just metres away, I ordered David’s coffee, as I relayed the story to the owner, Beni. I asked if they had homeless people in her native Iran. It was much worse in her despotic homeland she said, with many more homeless, due to the absence of any government support or benefits. As I paid, she handed me a paper bag for David, containing a large raspberry muffin. On returning with both, David asked me to thank the lady who’d sent the muffin, with the same effusive appreciation.

Reflecting on my day, as I walked home to my comfortable apartment, two highlights were clear – one was David, who was so grateful for so little; the other, Beni, who immigrating with her family from the extreme subjugation in Iran, knows well how heartbreakingly cruel life is for some. Both too know the meaning of kindness. Two people from starkly different worlds, but invisibly linked through a shared humanity.

The following day, returning to Hawksburn to do my shopping – I dropped into Café Latte to check they were happy to be identified in my story, while grabbing the chance for a quick latte. It was Paria, Beni’s daughter this time who gave me her blessing, as I expounded on the events of the previous day. As her mother had done with the muffin for David, she too displayed her generosity in insisting that I not pay for my latte. Paria, who’s taking a gap year from her medical studies to help her parents in the business, has clearly embraced the life our country has offered.

Moving on, I looked for David, but he’d gone, replaced by another homeless man, also young. Feeling buoyed by my earlier experience, I asked the same of this man. His name was Luke, and beaming, he said he’d love an iced coffee from Woolies, telling me the brand and where to find it.

These poignant events have stayed with me. In particular, it was something Beni said that’d struck me. She would, she explained, like my help to share her life story. It tells a tale of resilience – having survived unspeakable oppression in Iran, she hopes it might inspire others to “never give up”. Ruminating on David and Luke, I could only imagine what their journeys have been to lead to this point in their lives – but like Beni, they too haven’t given up. I expect many would disagree, but I’d suggest that as long as they haven’t lost touch with their humanity which allows them to respond to, and even engage with others with such positivity, despite their destitute situation, they retain hope in their hearts. Another lesson, we as Jews know well through the example of our precious Holocaust survivors.

Janine Joseph is a Melbourne writer.