A Fellow Human

I cried on the bus today. Not for myself, but for all those less fortunate out there. The ones that we so easily judge while passing them in the streets. The ones with tragic pasts, and not much hope for a better future. I met one of them today.

She almost stood waiting for me outside the train station, a young woman with blond hair. Over her shoulder she carried a bag with magazines, and she approached me with a question:
-You wanna buy Megafon?
-Sorry, don't carry any change, I said and quickly walked passed her. Hadn't walked that long though before I realized I had lied, and I turned around and said something stupid about money I forgot I had. She was clearly marked by her life, teeth were missing, and her hands were blistered. She was busy rolling herself a cigarette as well, and fumbled a little with the money I gave her. A coin dropped to the ground, and when we both bent over to pick it up I became very aware of the plastic bag I had put down on the ground. In it were two bottles of "bubbly", which I just had picked up from Vinmonoplet for my friend who is finishing her master thesis on Thursday. Two bottles representing celebration and happiness, but for this poor woman I guessed it would just have been a remedy for a miserable life. Just alcohol.

How different lives can turn out, and the thing is you'll never have any guarantees. At least now this woman is doing something which might give some meaning. By selling magazines like this she'll keep half the money and help spread the stories of how the lives of you and me could have been. You see, they're like us, and we're like them, 'cause we're all the same. And we're all different. She might have been the one getting her degree and celebrate with champagne...

Well on the bus I started reading, and I found out that this is the first issue of Megafon, the Bergen version of a street-paper. The first article "The Man Behind The Cup" tells the story of a 38 year old heroin addict. The picture shows a handsome young man, and he could just as easily been holding a PhD in Literature instead of an empty cup. The man in the picture looks at me with clear eyes and a gentle smile, and there's nothing telling that every day is a struggle to find money to finance his needs. 6 shots a day that is. He's telling us about his day, and how important it is to stay updated. After his first morning fix, he always watches the Morning Show on TV and reads his newspapers. He tries the best he can to organize his life, and hopes that he can get into a rehab program. He wants a better life.

Did I make any difference today? Maybe I should do more? The first thing we all can do is to stop judging, and then we can start being a "fellow human". We can't do miracles, but everyone deserves a chance to be treated with respect at least.