THE HOMELESS MAN

Since some time ago a homeless man has been our neighbor. He just came and chose a place between a house and a building and there he has been day and night. Sometimes I pass through and I can see he is not there, but his dirty clothes and food scraps make me sure that the man still lives there. Sometimes I see him sleeping so deeply as if he was in a bed of a king. Once I came walking and I saw him just enjoying the movement of people on the street. He looked at me and said: good morning and I did it too. Then I asked him if he had no family, nobody. He said nothing. He just looked up and then pointed to the sky. I understood, just God. Right after he reached out to me. I gave him some money I still had in my purse and he gave me a big smile.

I came home thoughtful wondering about his history of life that I don’t know. I just know that his life was not easy, that he was born in disadvantage, certainly raised in a poor environment, without a confort of a hot water shower or other things that we have every day and we just forgot how good they are. This poor man has no guilty to be a homeless. I also know that it is easier for a camel to go through the bottom of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven, but I believe that there are good as evil rich men on earth and the mercy of God is great. I always keep myself thinking about the inaccuracy of life when I see a child born in a poor and dangerous environment suffering mistreatment, prejudice and another child born son of princes.

Well, for sure the case of the homeless man became now a matter of our philosophical discussions at home. As we were in july with a terrible cold I coudn’t take that man out of my mind. I took an old coat of my husband and I was just getting out when he called me saying: “hey you, this coat is mine”. It is not any more I answered, now it is of that poor man suffering cold outside in the streets. “What?go there and see. There are so many coats and blankets there that he will be warm for many years, everybody gave him everything he needs.” I laughed because I know my husband and I know he likes to joke about any matter. I took the coat but the man didn’t see it. He was sleeping among all people and cars crossing the streets. My husband was right, the man was sleeping over coats and coats. Another day I saw him dressing a very good brand coat. I don’t know if this is the right thing but people are sorry facing such a situation. Now the man has made him a makeshift tent, so it seems he is more confortable and warm and kept in from the cold.

Last sunday, at the end of the Mass the protagonist of this chronicle broke out through the main corridor of the church with a black bag on his back and carrying his extreme thinness he approached near the steps of the altar where the priest was just at the end of the cult. I felt everybody holding their breath. Right after he raised his arm showing his hand clutching some money. He just stayed there for some moments with the money flickering. The priest, at first worried about what could happen, opened a large smile. The man climbed the steps and deposited his “tithe” on the last step. Finally he turned back and left the church laughing somewhat triumphant.

Some days ago I passed in front of the tent, the “house” of the poor man. He was awaken and smoking inside. Maybe for this reason he left some little crack to breathe. He is very smart, I am sure he recognized me. He stared me directly in my eyes. He is a man, he is a human being, a God’s son as any of us, with all the rights that he doesn’t have.

I passed through his tent and the man was being dumped. He was mumbling something very angry. My husband told me that the Water Company was trying to make the measurement and where was the water recorder? Just inside the tent. Then some people washed the place. This is real life. The man left our neighborhood, no one knows where he is. He went away with his life history that I don’t know and I will not. Not every homeless person was born from a poor family. I knew some people that had a normal life, but without a job, without family, without a friend, there were only the streets. An alcoholic or a person wrecked by a trauma, an extremely upsetting experience can finish the life on the streets.

I hope that our ex-neighbor can be happy. Making a parody with Rabindranath Tagore, I cross with several people on the streets everyday and I know that each of them is my brother. The homeless man is also my brother. I didn’t know even his name.