Birmingham September 2017 “You're shivering, what's wrong?”
01/09/17 21:23
In the evening, when the weather is good, I exercise by taking a walk along the local canal network. I may pass a few people but I seldom have the opportunity to speak to anyone, other than maybe a “Hi, the weather is good today”. On this day my wife was in Malaysia and I was visiting Birmingham to check that our flat was still in good condition (and see which of the 100+ letters that had arrived since my last visit were important) before heading back in November. There was still warmth in the setting sun as I made my back home and a few people were out and about making the most of a pleasant evening. One man spoke to me as I passed him “Can you spare any change?”. I shook my head and walked on. There are many homeless people here and if I gave money to all of them I would soon become homeless myself! I can justify that approach because I give more than enough to both my favourite charities and the church so declining most of these requests must become routine. Anyway, I am not going to make a difference, the problem is too large. “He was shivering”. That thought stopped me, I turned and looked back. I had gone on maybe 25m whilst I debated in my mind why I shouldn't keep handing out money and now, paying a bit more attention, I could see the back of a man in his mid 20s slowly shuffling his way along the canal towpath. “He was shivering, what's wrong?” I stood there for a few seconds and then hurried back to speak to him (and give him a pound coin). He was surprised to see me.
“You're shivering, what's wrong?” I asked. “I have just been released from hospital”, he said, raising his arm to show the hospital band around his wrist. “I was attacked last night by other homeless men, robbed of what little money I had and then thrown into the canal. The Police rescued me and sent me to the hospital for a check up. I am trying to get enough money to get into a hostel for the night. It costs £15 and I need another £5”. His eyes were filled with sadness and as I looked at him I thought “He is telling me the truth. Those clothes look a little damp and he may still be suffering from shock or the cold and that is what is causing him to shiver”. I reached into my pocket for my wallet. I knew I had only £20 in that, sufficient to get him into a hostel for two nights. I opened it, took out the two £10 notes and gave them to him. “Here is the money you need. Go there and recover from your ordeal”. He looked at me, complete surprise written across his face. “Thank you, thank you very much”, he stuttered. “My name is Danny and yours?” I realised I hadn't asked him his name which was quite remiss of me so I told him mine, wished him well and then set off for my home.
A few days later we met again. He was dressed in a set of clothes the hostel had given him with and was pleased to see me. We chatted for several minutes and he shared his life story. He had been working in a Bank's call centre but had been made redundant when they closed it. Unable to quickly find another job and without income in time he became homeless and his parents refused to allow him to go back to them. His days were spent trying to get enough money from people like me so he could get another night in a hostel plus some food to eat.
“You're shivering, what's wrong?” I asked. “I have just been released from hospital”, he said, raising his arm to show the hospital band around his wrist. “I was attacked last night by other homeless men, robbed of what little money I had and then thrown into the canal. The Police rescued me and sent me to the hospital for a check up. I am trying to get enough money to get into a hostel for the night. It costs £15 and I need another £5”. His eyes were filled with sadness and as I looked at him I thought “He is telling me the truth. Those clothes look a little damp and he may still be suffering from shock or the cold and that is what is causing him to shiver”. I reached into my pocket for my wallet. I knew I had only £20 in that, sufficient to get him into a hostel for two nights. I opened it, took out the two £10 notes and gave them to him. “Here is the money you need. Go there and recover from your ordeal”. He looked at me, complete surprise written across his face. “Thank you, thank you very much”, he stuttered. “My name is Danny and yours?” I realised I hadn't asked him his name which was quite remiss of me so I told him mine, wished him well and then set off for my home.
A few days later we met again. He was dressed in a set of clothes the hostel had given him with and was pleased to see me. We chatted for several minutes and he shared his life story. He had been working in a Bank's call centre but had been made redundant when they closed it. Unable to quickly find another job and without income in time he became homeless and his parents refused to allow him to go back to them. His days were spent trying to get enough money from people like me so he could get another night in a hostel plus some food to eat.