26/12/2020
The first time I saw you, I was on my way to the post station to send letters home. I think I noticed you because you looked too young, too neat, wrapped into your blanket, to sit at this unusual place. The entrance of a Turkish bakery to the left, a bank on the right, just around the corner of my place. There was no sign that you were asking for money but I immediately assumed that. The thought to give you some crossed my mind but when giving money, I always feel like I am more paying off my own guilt than actually doing good. I went further, back home. It is two days before Christmas.
On Christmas Eve, I am getting some last-minute groceries. You are sitting there again, same place, the same blanket around your body. I cannot get rid of the thought that you might be someone who was affected by the consequences the corona pandemic had on the economy. Did you lose your job? Did you lose your home? I look at you and you return the gaze. Seconds of eye contact, the desperation and hopelessness in your eyes, it seems too much to bear for one person. You look at me and your pain is mine. People crowds pass you by unnoticed. I am just one of them, overwhelmed, not knowing what to do, how to approach you. We are two meters apart from each other but a wall seems to separate us. I pass you, too.
Ignoring the suffering of another human is easier than taking it on, I know that now.
Going home I know I have to do something, I know that I cannot ignore what just happened, I cannot ignore what you were sharing with me, I cannot leave you alone. Approaching people is hard for me, especially men, I am scared. Scared to do something wrong. Scared to cross boundaries. Scared that you don’t speak English or that I don’t speak well enough Dutch. Blonde hair, blue eyes, I assume you might be from here.
Asking my sisters for help, I realize, the only mistake I can make, is to not do anything - a privilege I cannot live with. It takes me a bit until I leave the house again. I walk on the opposite side of the street, cannot spot you anymore. In my mind, I still want to find you and at the same time I feel relieved to get away, that I „tried my best“. I walk to the next big supermarket because I know that usually, this is a place where poor people reside and I assume that you might have changed location. Not there either. I return on the right side of the street and suddenly I notice you, how you hide in your little corner, so distressed that I wasn’t able to see you from the other side. 50 meters away from you, I stop walking immediately, not being able to go further. I want to look at you, I want to understand the situation, my fear paralyzes me. Minutes elapse. I watch how everybody is just walking there like you wouldn’t exist which leaves me stunned while I am unable to go one step further. Knowing that there is no way back, I get closer to you, approach you, I sit down in the squat to be on the same height as you.
„How are you?“ I ask „Is there something you need or I can do for you?“
With a broken voice, you say „Money, I need money to buy a train ticket to go home.“
We start talking, you tell me that you are from Romania, that your mum has cancer and you came to the Netherlands to find work. You wanted to earn enough money to be able to afford the operations she needs. Your English is pretty good and I notice some kind of relief in your voice, finally being able to tell your story to somebody. 5 EUR a day, you would earn here, not enough to make ends meet, let alone save some of it for your Mum. People would ask you why you would sit here, why you wouldn’t work. 5 EUR a day, not enough to find a place to live, to register, to find proper work, the whole vicious cycle even I am aware of. 5 EUR a day, not enough to be able to buy a ticket to go back home for Christmas. I give you 10 EUR, all the cash I have, and ask more questions. When you tell me that you love to work as a craftsman your eyes start to shine. I don’t know where this conversation is going, I just know I cannot leave. Seeing this place from your perspective, I see so much luxury and so little love, I see you sitting there and watching. Not begging for anything, only sharing the pain through your eyes desperate in search of rescue from the world that seems to have it all. Asking yourself how you deserve this while I know you don’t. I could be you and you could be me and it is just not fair. Out of carelessness, I hold my bag in a rain puddle while talking to you and you make me aware, trying to protect my bag, while I, while we cannot protect you from living on the street in Amsterdam, one of the richest cities in this world. You tell me that I am the first person to speak to you in five days. It needs a white, blonde girl to sit next to you, so that people start paying you attention, giving you some coins. I think about society, about us complaining about the fact that we cannot spend our Christmas as usual. That we cannot see each other, that we cannot go out or give hugs, have to wear a face mask in the supermarket. Complaining that carriers don’t deliver our Christmas post in time. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that those are problems that keep us from seeing you, saving you.
I need to leave at some point; I ask you if you would come back the next day so that we could continue our conversation. Later in the afternoon, I want to bring you some food and clothing, I checked tickets as well. Your corner is empty, you are gone.
I have been looking for you. You didn’t come back.
I hope you are still alive. You said you wouldn’t know if you might be dead the next day and I asked you to not give up. I feel so stupid for having said that while I went back home into a warm apartment and back to my fu***ng non-life threatening problems. I even forgot to ask you for your name. I hope you are safe. I wish I had done more, could do more. What I know is that you gave my Christmas a totally new meaning and even saying that out loud feels ignorant, feels too privileged, makes me feel ashamed. Wrong to have so much pain in my heart while I am not the one suffering. I still hope, I was able to give some meaning to the moment we shared. I hope you know that you matter.
I’ll keep looking for you, I promise.