Self Pity

Self-pity is not a pretty thing, to be sure. Recently, however, I seriously struggled with the emotion.

While walking in Nairobi, a young man passed me. He carried a large, dirty sack over his shoulder. His clothes and shoes were dirty, torn, and beyond worn out. His hair was very unkempt. Totally oblivious to my presence and with his eyes glued to the ground, he searched for trash. He collected plastic items, likely to sell for a few small coins to a recycler. He didn't ask for a handout. Instead, he made his own honest attempt to earn his daily bread. As I secretly watched him pick up a couple of items and add to his meager collection, a tear trickled down my cheek. I could only imagine the life he lives.

A short distance later, I encountered four younger boys (perhaps in their early teens). They also were quite dirty and wore tattered clothes. They didn't all wear shoes. Sitting on the ground, they played a game of some sort that they apparently had made themselves. It consisted of a piece of cardboard with some markings and some pop bottle caps.

As I walked past them, I looked down to see if their game was draught (checkers). Two of them greeted me and I returned the gesture. Quickly one hopped up and walked alongside me. He asked me to buy them food. I told him, "No".

He politely asked me why not. I told him I don't ever give money to strangers. He quickly replied, "I'm not asking for money. We just want food. Can you buy us some bread?"

Going against my own well-established policy, I agreed to his simple request. He continued to walk with me to Yaya Center (a very classy, modern shopping center). We both knew he wouldn't be allowed in (because of his appearance), so I told him to wait for me at the security gate and I'd come back with some bread.

As we approached the gate, I asked about the game. He told me its name and that it's similar to draught.

I bought the boys two loaves of bread (with a small package of margarine inside). I also got them some milk and a bag of apples.

I found where the boy waited. He wasn't by the security gate, but was farther down. It’s likely the security guards chased him away. As I gave him the bag, he smiled and thanked me. I was tempted to watch them play their game. But I knew I couldn’t handle it emotionally.

Hmm... both encounters demonstrated to me that I don't have ANTHING to complain about regarding my lot in life - present circumstances included.