I fucking hate beggars (a totally inappropriate and elitist commentary on the people in my neighborhood)
July 19, 2004
One major change that I've noticed in my personality since moving to Egypt is that, for better or worse (knowing my friends, worse), I have become extremely elitist. I HATE the middle class, and the nouveau riche (nevermind that my family is somewhere in this category). I am annoyed by the poor, and only occassionaly sympathize with their plight.
And lately, I have become exteremely unkind to beggars. Then again, Egyptian beggars are like weeds, both in number and level of resistance. These are no mild Philly, standing-outside-of-Wawa pan-handlers who will hold open the door for you and ask you to "spare a little change on your way out." These are the real deal - little girls in sullied house dresses and greasy head scarves grabbing at your clothes and asking for a pound or two to help them "get married."
Yesterday, I nearly blew up at a couple of teenage beggar girls who followed me while I was walking home telling me to spare a little change (that I honestly did not have) in the hopes that it would help them get married (I don't know why this is such a popular line), and then they cursed me out when I just ignored them.
Well, I used to be a sucker. In fact, I still am. I can rarely say no to the young ones, but I'm tired of the times when I really having nothing less than a 50 pound note and some healthy young man or woman comes up to me and asks me for some change. I realize that the Egyptian economy sucks, and the government basically does nothing to improve the welfare of the people, but...well, anything I say here will contradict much of what I've believed for most of my life. Suffice it to say I'm not as sympathetic to the young and healthy as I am to the tiny or the old and decrepit [speakinawhich, I mentioned to my sister the other day that there is an unnatural amount of legless middle-aged men in Egypt, which kind of makes me wonder how much truth there is to the rumors that some people maim themselves in order to mak more money.] Anyway, back in Philly, I used to allay my guilt at not giving money by telling myself that they'd use if it for drugs (though I don't know why I cared what they'd use it for), or that they didn't know from poor, thinking to myself that Egypt had some REAL poor people, who actually needed my money. Therefore, whenever I was here, I tried to make up for my Philly stinginess by giving generously.
But I'm sick of it now, and it's starting to show. I think I've actually managed to scare off all the little beggar girls on my street.
Two weeks ago, one of the resident beggar girls followed me almost all the way to work (it's like a two minute walk from my house)imploring me all the way to just give her a little something. I was loathe to do so, because 1) I really didn't have any change, 2) my sister and I had given her money twice already that week when we were in the car stopped at the traffic light and she came and hung onto the side of the car for dear life till we gave her something, and 3) I was afraid to stop and pull out my wallet, only to be accosted by the 50 other little girls who were most definitely just hiding in the shadows. I was just about to cross the street to my office, when she kind of grabbed on to my leg and said, "Oh please, oh please give me something." At which point I told her, "But habibtee I've already given you twice this week. Don't think I don't remember your face." She let go of me, put on this really nasty, old woman from the village voice, and hand on hip looked me up and down and said, "Whatever, you've never given me anything." She might as well have added an [in]appropriate hand gesture. In any case, we were both kind of snarky to each other, but for the past two weeks she has not bothered me.
I thought for a couple of days that I might be imagining things. That she didn't know me from anyone else on the street and she was just generally laying low for that week. However, my initial suspicions were confirmed last week when I was sitting in my friend's car in front of my building talking to her. The same little girl came all the way up to the open driver side window and was just about to ask for money, when see spotted me in the passenger seat and just ran away.
Heh.
I feel bad, but then again it kind of amuses me. I wonder what they say about me in the beggar gatherings they hold nightly in the median of our street. "Man, she's such a stingy bitch. May she never get married."
Haha.
Little do they know that to me that's a blessing and not a curse.