Prologue:
A friend of mine read my article
"Street Philosophy" in the July issue of Zoma and we started talking
about street-people. He thinks most street-people have bizarre stories and
shared an intriguing story of an
aged beggar named Gash Beke, what follows is the story as he
narrated it:
The Story:
I was having coffee with a friend of
mine in the car. All of a sudden an old aged beggar appeared. He came close to
my window and asked for money, after a moment of hesitation my friend took out
one Birr, gave him and said, “Don't drink with it!” with an orderly tone. The
old beggar sarcastically smiled and said, “No, I will buy a house with it” For
I was not expecting that coming, I burst with laughter. Then, I rephrased what
my friend wanted to say. “He meant buy something to eat” The beggar replied, “I
am the one who knows why I'm in need of the money, he didn't asked me why I
wanted it in the first place, so why is he telling me what to do now. It's up
to me to decide that.”
My friend interrupted, “let me ask you
now, what are you going to do with the money I gave you?” “I will drink with
it!” answered the old beggar proudly. Amazed with his honesty and quick replay
I asked, “Have you eaten?” “Yes, in the morning” he replied. “It is dinner time
now, aren't you hungry? Isn't it better if you eat than drink?” I
hinted.
“You only gave me one Birr, so with
such amount of money I prefer taking my sleeping pill, Ouzo.” “Why alcohol over
bread?” I asked. “My son you can do both, eat your dinner as well as drink till
you get wasted; where as I have to choose either to eat or drink, so I choose
to drink and have my joyful, warm sleep on the street.”
I and my friend felt sympathy listening
after the old man's straight yet touchy reply. We then looked at each other and
agreed to buy him dinner and a couple of beers for we were amazed with his
honesty and straightforwardness.
We asked him to get in the car;
however, he refused for he thought he will ruin the car with his dirty clothes.
We insisted that he get in, hesitant for a while; he finally got in and sat
behind uncomfortably till we reached a nearby restaurant.
Eager to be amazed with more of his
conversations, we quickly ordered three meals and asked him the story of his
life. He told us everything about himself; that he used to be employed and earn
a regular salary until he was unable to walk for months after a hit-and-run car
accident. Due to that, he lost his job and small rent house for he has no one
to support him. This was what he said, “…with just one unfortunate incident I
ended up on the street.”
After we had had our dinner and a
couple of beers we offered to give him some money as we were dropping him to
his sleeping place, a corner of a street. “Why do I need money now? I have had
my dinner and got enough to drink” said the old man calmly. “You might use it
for tomorrow.” my friend suggested.
The old beggar smiled wistfully and
said, “I have never slept on the streets with money in my pocket. If I have
money left after my Ouzo I always give it to other friends. I don't have a
house rent to pay, bills to cover or tax to be deducted, so why should I save
money for? I have never thought about tomorrow; I may or may not wake up. I
only live each day until bed time. Tomorrow is another day; it brings its own
fortune. Every day is filled with surprises; we humans are blindfolded animals
led by our fate; we don't choose our life, fate chooses for us. We have no will
over life. That is exactly what happened to me; one unfortunate night made me
the way I am now…”
He opened the door and as he stood
leave he said, “If you listen to me, let me tell you one thing at last…” We
gave him our ears, “My sons, you may work till you sweat, you may accumulate
wealth, but know that there is also fortune in life. You don't know what will
happen tomorrow; you don't know your destiny; so live each day like it is your
last; be good, do good.” He then opened the car and went to his corner.
My friend and I felt like we had spent
the night with a wise shrink. His views and reflections reminded us of simple
and yet great principles of life - simplicity and kindness.
My friend finished his narration and
paused for a while until I myself woke up out of a meditative state of mind. I
shook my head and said “What a story!” My friend nodded reflectively.
End-note:
Out of my few encounters and stories I
heard about street-people I realized that they are the kind of people whose
lives put you in a continuous dilemma. Whatever names you give them-
disfranchised, homeless, hobos, bums, street-people, or whatever stereotypes
you have about them you don't get to know how humble, entertaining, frank and
thoughtful they are until you get closer and chat with them; they will ask you
absolutely anything and honestly tell you everything.
Besides their shocking and surprising
stories these people not only need our helping hand but our consideration and
affection. Such is how you get to know their real story and hidden philosophic
thoughts.
After Story:
My friend became friends with Gash
Beke, the old beggar. He used to visit him sometimes and chat whenever he was
down; he thinks his advice helped him a lot... “I enjoy talking to him; he was
the best adviser... Friends of Gash Beke on the street used to call me whenever
he was sick. They used to think I was his biological son because he used to
call me ‘my son’. I heard Gash Beke died on my return from a few months of
training abroad. RIP Gash Beke!”
Dedicated to Gash Beke
Photo by Meklit Mersha, Zoma Magazine
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