Thought Picnic: We must restore faith in our humanity

A calling unplanned

Sometimes, a holiday means not needing to get to bed early and in locations where there is much safety and security, it could mean staying out until the very early hours of the morning.

Normally, I would get a taxi-cab back from the town centre to my hotel which is just about 1km away, but between laziness and tiredness, the ride is a respite from a night of excessive wakefulness.

This time, with the wind blowing with the gusts of an easy gale, I started my walk back to my hotel, when I heard someone coughing and spitting. He was on the ground, whether having fallen or seeking a cosy respite, the setting did not look right.

Reached and helped

I walked round to him and asked if he was OK, he said he wasn’t. So, I reached out my hand to help him up, which he took and it became apparent that he was quite unsteady on his feet. I cannot say why this was the case and in his vulnerable state, it was no time to be judgemental.

Then I asked where he needed to get to and whether he would be able to make it there. His hotel was just a few hundred metres away, and I knew he would not successfully walk that distance which would have involved crossing two roads. I offered to hold him in a side embrace to get him to his hotel, and he obliged.

He might have been physically worse for wear, but his mental faculties were fully engaged, he was thankful for my help, very appreciative of my concern and he asked for my name as we walked to his hotel. I had decided I was going to deliver him to his hotel reception before turning back.

A dearth of kindness?

The conversation that ensued suggested he never expected even the basest forms of human kindness as I tried to assure him that there are many helpful people out there. We got to his hotel, had to go down the stairs for the reception, all the while I held onto him.

I delivered him to reception, ensured he was aware of where he had to go, at which point, he became profusely thankful, hugged me tight, he was prayerfully gracious and then he went to his room.

On reflection, I wondered if he had had an epileptic episode leading to his fall and the unsteadiness that did not seem to be from alcohol or substance abuse, then it would not have mattered, either way, I would have offered to help.

Let us do and expect to done to

Then again, the thought that people in vulnerable situations rarely have expectations of assistance until they somewhat pick themselves up off the ground bothered me greatly. We surely cannot all have lost faith in humanity not to expect another fellow human being to be of help to those in any kind of distress.

Our little conversation seemed to suggest this was not the first time nobody came to his aid that my help was almost as shocking as it was surprisingly unexpected at a strange hour from a complete stranger.

I did nothing close to the highly commendable humanity of the Good Samaritan, but if a heart beats in our chest cavity, there is nothing to prevent us reaching out to help, just because we are human first and to help reinforce the bonds of our common humanity.

My hope is he is well and maybe, I helped an angel too. Every little stretching out of the hand is a little more done to restore faith in our humanity.

Dickens Lives in New York

American Notes

I would suppose this should be an addendum to American Notes for General Circulation which detailed Charles Dickens' trip around North America between January and June 1842.

As it were, he visited prisons and mental institutions, so why not in 2008 include an orphanage? This story is littered with the works of Charles Dickens much as they reflect observations that seem to find true today.

Well, this is the cruel sign of the times as we record the way our sense of compassion and humanity is lost to bureaucracy and litigation.

An English family of three comprising the mother and her two daughters aged 15 and 13 took advantage of the appreciated pound over the dollar and decided to visit New York. [BBC News]

Unfortunately, the mother took ill with pneumonia that she had to be hospitalised but her daughters being minors could not stay in the hospital with her.

Lodgers of the workhouse

The doctors then arranged that they should be kept with foster parents for the period their mother was in hospital, this would have been the remit of the Administration for Children’s Services in New York (ACSNY).

To cut a long story short, in the whole of glorious New York, New York, they could not find a foster family so they placed the girls in an orphanage.

At the orphanage, they were stripped of their clothes, issued uniforms, given medical examinations and questioned about whether that had been abused.

Beyond that, they were made to shower in front of strangers and refused visiting rights to their mother. So we have perfectly normal children who being distressed because of their sick mother, frightened because of their separation, terrified because of treatment they have received are now traumatised by being interrogated and coerced to express grotesque, deplorable, despicable and reprehensible experiences they have never had. Children's Services?

When their mother heard that her daughters had been placed in an orphanage, she discharged herself and retrieved her kids from what Charles Dickens in his time would have called a workhouse.

Governess on leave

Obviously, in those times, people who could afford to visit America rather than the settlers would have travelled with a retinue of servants and definitely a governess.

Now, the mother has received a "standard" letter from the ACSNY informing her that she is being investigated.

I would suppose for falling terribly ill that she could not make adequate provision for the accommodation and safety of her daughters.

One would have thought there was an inkling of humanity and compassionate intuition in the ACSNY at least in the 21^st Century to have been able to make adequate provision; but they have rolled back the years – the girls probably made an acquaintance with Oliver Twist asking for more and the Fagin directors of this disservice really thought they were doing their jobs.

Supposedly, every child is an abused child until proven otherwise – this is the most cynical outlook to life that can be expressed to any child.

A snapshot of the battle of life

This sad tale is just another snapshot of America where almost 47 million have no health insurance, where foreclosures are rising, where dishonesty has given rise to the credit crunch that has stifled the world’s economy and where they could not find a friendly caring foster family to care for two kids for a day or two.

That is The Battle of Life I suppose many Americans face, no doubt the family went to New York with Great Expectations, the experienced Hard Times in a Bleak House.

Dickens surely lives again in New York – it is definitely now off limits or where else would one learn to pick a pocket or two [YouTube (Oliver Twist Musical)].

Nightmare Nurse

Self-inflicted excess

I saw a world I never knew existed or ever thought I would ever encounter and I received such great understanding of the quest for health and healthcare and the role of money.

I left my hotel rather late to participate in the Saturday night life, at the main entrance to the hotel an ambulance was being called for a “lady” who had done it to excess, she was retching and vomiting like Niagara Falls, I shook my head.

There were enough friends and people around her including the police, so I walked on by shaking my head at what people get up to, on holiday.

Mugged by thugs

I reached the back-end of Yumbo Centre and noticed some commotion, two guys appeared to be beating up a man, so I hollered at them as they picked up bottles and threw at him and kicked him to the ground.

As a couple of other people gathered round the boys walked away, they just walked away. I went down to talk to the man, he was seriously bloodied, his face covered with blood and his clothes stained all over.

He was a victim of a mugging and it appears he was taken advantage of just as he recovered from an epileptic fit, thankfully, they did not make away with either money or his phone.

The Devil’s Clinic

So, I helped the man up and told him he should be able to get treatment at the Policlinica run by Dr. Felipe Caceres Arvelo which is in front of the tourist office – we went there together and I rung the bell.

In my naivety, I thought the nurse would come out, see the emergency and attend to the man immediately then talk about the formalities later.

I was wrong, the first thing he asked for was insurance and the ability to pay, I said no problem with that, and asked him to take the man in for treatment.

But we were met with such bureaucratic spiel as the man bled and began to shake, I could not believe that a nurse could see another human-being in that condition and still be so particular; as if anyone goes out on a Saturday night with passport, insurance and health papers – this was an emergency, a man was seriously wounded and needed help.

I cannot believe this

I was so distraught, I found myself wailing in disbelieve as I opened my wallet and threw all I had in it on the floor – if you want money, there is the money treat the man – I shouted.

I was drama-queen, histrionics and melodrama personified, making a scene that was getting quite embarrassing for the nurse – it was enough to invite us in and then go through the formalities of filling in the forms and taking all sorts of details before he cleaned up the wound and recommended the man go to a hospital for an X-ray of his face.

The Good Samaritan had an easier time because the people at the inn had a bit of humanity in them – this “nurse” or the business masquerading as a clinic had no soul, in fact, the man could not wash the blood off his hands and arms because the clinic had no hot water at night.

People first, money later

Now, I am not advocating private clinics should be run as the social services, but the primary premise should be service to humanity especially where it was an emergency and where they are in proximity to the scene of the incident – we can sort out the details later.

This really contrasts with the situation I had in Paris when I had taken off a good chunk of skin from my toe after hitting my foot – the nurse at the chemist immediately attended to me, dressed the wound and refused payment – I could not let such kindness go unrewarded.

I fear though that the love of money and only money at the expense of everything else is sapping us of our humanity and compassion, we express greater love for animals than for fellow human-beings.

For the shoddy job the nurse did, I parted with EUR 90, not that it matters, but I would have been happier if he had just got on with it at first.

Finally, I helped the man into a taxi for his hotel where he was to collect his passport and insurance to have his nose X-rayed at another hospital. We are people and human-beings first, everything else should revolve around that.

Unfortunately, my altruistic views are becoming too old-fashioned that I am lost when the simple things like consideration, kindness and compassion are missing from the interaction with others.

It makes one wonder what the world is coming to.