My husband and I “discuss” this subject quite a bit. You’re familiar with it, I am sure. A person stands on a street corner or
intersection with a cardboard sign indicating they are hungry, broke, homeless,
or all three. The penmanship on the sign
is usually good and is it done with a marker.
We discuss this a lot because my husband always wants to
stop and give them money. We don’t carry
much cash, but if we have any on us, my husband will give it to the person with
the sign.
I don’t like it. It
makes me nervous, particularly when I see the same person in the same spot more
than once. I have tried to convince my
husband that we should make some little cards with phone numbers of local
shelters and churches and hand these out instead of money.
We have also discussed that some of these people may be driven
to these intersections by someone else – maybe a slave owner – and forced to
collect money and turn it in at the end of the day. I hear these things go on in this country all
the time.
Yesterday I was doing some errands and I saw a lady on a
corner. I drove past her at the stop sign,
but about two miles away, I was still thinking about it and the “discussions”
we have at my house about this. And I
really wanted to know if she was being forced to stand there and collect money.
And, lo and behold, I heard something say, “Go back and
see.”
Just like that: “Go
back and see.” Now, even though I wish
He would, the Lord doesn’t talk to me on a regular basis. But I had the feeling that this situation was
okay for me to investigate and that I wouldn’t have any trouble. It was a peaceful easy feeling – like the
song, you know?
So I turned around and went back. I parked my car in the parking lot behind the
lady, got out, and went right up to her.
No fear. Now that I think about
it, I don’t know why I did this. I yap
quite a bit about things, but I would never have thought I would actually do
something like this.
PLEASE NOTE – this was at a busy stop sign within a small
shopping area. There were cars coming
and going at all times – I was in no way out of the sight of other people the
whole time this was taking place.
All in all, I was with her around twenty minutes. The whole time I was talking to her, I was
moving – kind of dancing around on the curb - and watching for other cars and
making sure someone was around. I was
attempting to get information – to see if she was homeless and to see if she
needed to know the location of a local shelter.
AND to find out if she was being dropped off there to collect money for
someone else. Her sign indicated she
needed money for her kids and for food.
This is some of the conversation (a lot of it was
repetitive):
Me: “Hello.”
Her: smile
Me: “Who made your
sign?”
Her: puzzled look
Me: Who wrote your
sign?” (Gesturing to the sign as though
I was writing...)
Her: pointed to
herself
Me: Please read it
to me
Her: puzzled look
Me: “What does it
say?” (I shook my head and looked
puzzled and pointed to the sign.)
Her: “Oh! Need help.
Kids. Money.”
Me: “You wrote
this but you cannot read each word to me?”
Her: no answer…
Me: “Who dropped
you off here?”
Her: puzzled look
Me: “How did you
get here?”
(This went on for a minute or two and finally she indicated
she had walked.)
Me: “So you walked
here?”
Her: “Yes. Walk.”
Me: “Walked from
where? Where did you walk from?”
Her: …gestured all
around her (no particular place)
Me: “Who is making
you do this?”
(This went on for a minute or two and finally she decided
she needed to answer me regarding this matter because I wouldn’t let it go.
Her: “No – just
me! Only me!”
Me: “Is someone
beating you and making you do this?” (I
make beating motion with my hand.)
Her: “NO! It is just me!”
THEN she pulls a piece of paper from her purse and on it is
written in perfect penmanship: SENSOR
Her: “Need money –
for my car. Car broke.”
Me: “You have a
car?”
Her: “YES! SEE?”
She points to the word SENSOR on the paper, excitedly, like she has made
me understand.
THEN, for several more minutes, I asked questions such as,
“Where are your kids? Where is your
car? Where did you walk from? Is someone beating you? Is someone forcing you to do this? Who wrote this sign for you?”
It was with a certain clarity I had (don’t know where it
came from) that she understood everything I was asking and it was kind of hard
for her NOT to answer my questions and to pretend that she didn’t understand…
Finally she indicated that she was going to call her husband
and he would come to tell me that she was not being forced to stand on the
street with a sign.
So, now she had a car.
And a husband. I asked her why
her husband was not with her. She
explained that he was somewhere looking for a job to get money. “They told him to go there for a job,” she
said.
She took a cell phone from her purse and made a call. I don’t speak any languages other than
English, but I can recognize several others.
I have never heard a language such as she spoke. It was very rough and unpleasant to my ear.
While we were waiting for her husband, she pulled pictures
of someone who looked like maybe a prophet – she had a couple of those – and
then she pulled a picture of Jesus from her purse. She indicated, with hands pressed together
and eyes raised toward the sky, that she was a praying woman and that she loved
her some "Jeesit". She also told me that
her two kids, ages 2 and 10, were in Phoenix Arizona
(where she was from).
At one point, I told her I was going to call the police so
they could point her in the direction of a local shelter. I turned my head sideways and put my hands
underneath my head to indicate sleeping.
She immediately jumped back and said, “NO!”
She continued to point to the paper that said, “SENSOR” and
told me it was for her “car.”
There was nothing about her car on the sign.
I asked her what language she was speaking. After I asked several times, she said,
something like sounded like “Romano” or “Romani.” (This, I later learned is the language of the
Gyspies.)
I said, casually, and don’t even know why I said it, “Oh, I
thought you might be Spanish.” She
IMMEDIATELY said, “I only speak a little Spanish.” (In perfect English, she said this.)
In a few minutes, a man came walking towards us. He looked nothing like her (race-wise). She was dark-skinned and he looked totally Caucasian. They both wore, what appeared to be, new
clothes and sneakers. He had a nice
knapsack. His teeth were dazzling white
and absolutely well cared for. Hers were
not.
He had a folded cardboard sign in his knapsack. It appeared to be in the same penmanship but
I couldn’t see what it said.
I indicated to him that I was going to call the police to
come help them find a place to sleep.
This made him angry at once. I
asked him who made his sign and he mumbled, with his head down, “Amigos.” I had the sense that he could totally speak
English and that they both could understand everything I was saying. (Amigo is not the gypsy word for friend.)
All of a sudden I turned to her and asked. “WHERE is your car?”
Just as pretty as you please, she turned and pointed to the
parking lot. “It’s a van,” she said.
“Please show me that it will not start,” I said.
She hesitated and then said, “Come on.”
The man had already turned and was walking away, muttering
and angry. I believe he was cursing me
in English.
I followed at a safe distance.
“Come,” she said. I
also believe she said, “Come get in,” when she opened the car door. He was already in the van with the door shut.
I replied, “No thank you.
I am fine exactly where I am. I
can see you from here.” I was watching
them with another car between us.
She began to smile. A
faint smile, at first, and then it grew larger.
She got in the van, put the key in the ignition, and it
started immediately.
“That engine sounds better than mine does,” I told her.
Her smile was so big, it was about to break her face. I think she was about to bust wide open with
laughter. He was not. He was not happy with me at all.
I waved as they drove away and yelled, “Goodbye – God Bless
You.”
I pray that I will never lose my “heart” for my fellow
brothers and sisters and that God will give me the same kind of nudging to help
in REAL situations – as the help He gave me in this situation when He urged me
to “Go and see.” I will always feel it
was to satisfy my nagging worrying about these people and whether or not we are
obligated to give everyone who carries a sign some money. (The topic has really been discussed ‘way too
much at our home lately.)
Y’all be careful out there – okay?
Blessings!
Joanne
