In the
paragraphs that follow is a shocking story and cynical philosophy of a shoe
shining street teenager that made me doubt philosophy itself.
…I was having
my shoes cleaned out around CMC here in Addis. The shoe shining girl is probably
at the age of 15 from a rough gesticulation. I started conversing with her
basically considering the rare shoe shining girls in our city. I asked if she
was from Addis, she responded with her eyebrows stretched and lifted up, to
mean yes in facial expression. She seems to be bored and thinking about
something big as I guessed.
My senses
sort of pushed me to forward another question “where do you live?” she replied
again with a body language, pointing at a plastic tent behind me; “a street
shoe shining teenager” I whispered to myself and felt terrible for her; but I
didn’t want to make her feel bad showing her a pity face.
There was a
moment of silence for a while, in the mean time, I couldn’t stop noticing her
frequently pressing hard on to her belly. By way of diverting the topic, I
asked if she was ok, “why are you squishing your belly?” She took a moment before answering,
and replied “I think… I am… pregnant” with a toned down yet careless manner.
Trying to cover up my shock, from her unexpected response, I asked too many
questions at once, “how? Do you have a boyfriend? How did you know if you are
pregnant…?” With a sarcastic smile, she calmly responded, “I live on the street,
perhaps if you noticed; so, sometimes, street boys ask me to sleep with them or
do it forcedly. Well… some other times, I myself look for men to sleep with, so
I can warmth my body from the cold lonely nights.”
Once again,
shocked as I was listening after her calm and casual response, forwarded
another question, “So… what are you going to do if you are pregnant?” she
quickly replied, “I won’t be pregnant” amused as I was by her confident and
quick answer, asked, “How come? Do you take medicines? Are you barren?” my
usual, one after another wave of questions. She started feeling relaxed now replaying
quickly to my questions, “It usually happens to me but I squish and kill the
infant in my stomach by pressing hard and pinching my belly until I see my
period back.” This time, she even noticed me shocked.
After taking
a while by way of calming myself, I said, “why don’t you take pills or use
condom, if you have to do what you are doing, meaning… sex.” Her reply was,
“what for?” “…Well, for starters, you won’t be pregnant and more over you
prevent yourself from sexually transmitted diseases like HIV/AIDS”, I felt like
a health officer having said the above statement. Adding to the point I was
trying to make, I asked, “Are you aware of the probability of having HIV from
an unprotected sex?” she replied, “who cares if I have HIV, I’m dying anyways”,
another shocking phrase, in a slapdash fashion.
Our
conversation started to get more shocking and more interesting. In a
consolation, I said the next phrase, “well, true, we all die; but, with your
status- no medical care and no one to take care of you, you will suffer to
die.” Having said the above bold statement, I was expecting she might reconsider
her actions and argue with me regretting her past. However, contrary to my
assumption, she was even more sarcastic with her replay this time.
“Am I not
suffering already? Isn’t life full of misery? Isn’t it full of pain? What is
the difference between having a miserable life and a miserable death? They are
both the same. I’m suffering in life; yet, it won’t be something new for me to
suffer in death. After all, that’s the way life goes, you suffer your whole
life and then you will die.”
Another big
moment of silence, she had done cleaning my shoes long ago; but, I didn’t want
to leave for interested I were in our conversation. Yet, I have nothing to say,
I didn’t know what to ask, or didn’t know what to say or suggest. In fact, I
wasn’t sure I could have handled anymore of her frightening words (or should I
say swords.) for they tore me in to emotional pieces...
It felt like
hours passed by before coming to my full senses, I thought I blacked-out for a
while, lost my consciousness; I don’t really remember what I was feeling. Long
after I had done calming myself, I wanted to say something at last; but then
again, I figured no words of wisdom could change her mind; I bet not any
outspoken person would change her mind. I guess her pessimism had been so tough
that made me one right then.
Hence, I gave
up the last talk thought. After all, who am I to suggest or advice? Who am I to
say stuffs for I know nothing of what she had been through. Only she had felt the
real pain, only she had lived the misery. I have devastated listening after her
story only, let alone living it; no wonder where she got this glumness…
Looking at my
watch, I figured it was time for me to go; thus, I left leaving her a fat tip. In
my way back home, I couldn’t take her out of my mind. “What a philosophy!” I
somehow regretted for not making that last speech;
…I wish I
could have given her hope, I wish I could have said some of the wisdom words I
knew, “You can choose either to be a
victim of the world or an adventurer in search of a treasure. It’s all a
question of how you view your life.” - Paulo Coelho; or “Our life is what
our thoughts make it” - Marcus Arulies, may be life isn’t as awful as you had
pictured it… tomorrow will be a better day… etcetera, etcetera
But then, it
would have been nothing but an obvious shallow advise; specially for a bold,
sarcastic girl like her. Plus, I wouldn’t have made an excellent last speech
for I didn’t have that emotional strength to have her make up her mind so she
could change her philosophy.
...It felt
like my mind recorded all the conversation and played it repeatedly. I was
impulsively shaking my head as I was going my long walk home. “…What a
philosophy!”
Experts in
the field categorize such kind of philosophy as Philosophical Skepticism. It is
a kind of philosophy that is based on ambiguity and doubt ranging to disbelief to
the reality of the external world. People with low socio-economic status and
desperation tend to follow skepticism because it is the kind of philosophy that
gives such people the uncertainty about facts and reality.
I remembered
what the Ethiopian Awramba’s Society leader Zumra Nuru once said about
philosophy, “one’s philosophy about life is neither gained from formal
schooling nor lost from lack of it.” And he was right, despite our educational,
economic, or other status we all ask different questions about life in general
and the specifics in it. And so, we tend to follow the kind of philosophy that
seems to temporarily answer our question.
And so, after
listening to this awe-inspiring story I now, truly believe that, “Everyone is a
philosopher” for life is full of questions from everywhere; mostly, from the
streets.
Dedicated to the shoe
shining teenager and others who are living in desperate situations by
justifying their actions with philosophical skepticism /a philosophy based on
rejecting the ‘reality’ of the world/. What is ‘reality’ anyways? I don’t know…
another big issue in philosophy.
