Today, as like many other days, I was sitting at the Dancing Dog cafe sipping on a lemon drink when a youngish Ethiopian man came up to me. He asked if he could have a cigarette. But before asking, he stretched out his hand to greet me. I thought this was lovely. Most of the times when I am approached in Footscray for a cigarette, it's a fairly quick transaction. Before I had a chance to say yes, he had sat down next to me and I agreed to his request. He started to tell me about the last couple days he had just had. A tale of state trustees, money, addiction, mental health problems and probably not so obvious, but isolation. He was very honest about his problems. He told me that he'd had an argument with state trustees, that they wouldn't give him some money until next week. This is a common problem, one that I've heard people complain about on many occasions. As he sat down and rolled his cigarette, he told his tale with an aire of hopelessness. On finishing his rolling, he got up, shook my hand firmly, as to say thanks without saying thanks, and departed. (He did also verbally thank me as well)
I sat back and watched him leave, crossing the road and it got me thinking. I know I have probably mentioned this before, but when I step out of my own skin and meet someone in theirs, things seem to become clearer. This man was obviously in a pretty bad way. I'm also in a pretty bad way, or so I thought. I guess it's the old saying, "well pain, it's relative". And I guess it is. One doesn't want to downgrade their scenario to insignificant in the sight of someone elses pain, but I think it's important to be open and aware that human suffering (on whichever level) is human. I didn't walk away thinking, well I'm alright because this guy isn't, but I walked away thinking that through the story and connectedness of our stories, our pain is shared.
I guess in a way, the encounter simply helped me put my own world in a little more perspective.
Till I find my poncho...
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