ACT 2

The seat was warm.

His music preceded him; a few surprisingly melodic snatches on a battered harmonica.

He was wrinkled; cubic zirconia studs in each of his large leathered lobes. Shoulders hunched
forward in a standard olive green overcoat, he staggered with the
off-beat roll of a hurrying subway car.

He dropped the arm that held the instrument to reveal a droopy under bite, proffering his other
grubby hand to a nearby passenger. The passenger, an American girl,
nudged her male companion who immediately offered the ajushee a few
coins. The man accepted them soundlessly, remotely—as if it was
expected. He added them to a zippered pack around his waist, and moved
expectantly to the next foreign sucker.

I feigned poverty and shook my head slightly, and hesitated, he moved on down the long row of
soulless eyes whose emotions and feelings, if any, were carefully hidden
beneath the obscurity of l'humanité en masse. A few more harmonica
blues wafted on with him.

The girl nudged me. “How many of these people do you think are heading to church?” she asked.

I glanced again down the line of glassy eyed passenger, dozing or meditating in
their glittery ties, polyester suits, heals, and faux fur collars.

“50%.”

She didn’t respond, so I asked her the same.

“More than half,” she answered, and said nothing more.

The seat was warm. I love these heated subway seats.

We sat in silence. I mulled thoughts of being late to church myself and
what I’d possibly eat and do afterward.

Suddenly, she turned to me again.

“Always give what is asked of you,” she said.

Feeling guilty, I gave a paltry tithe at church an hour later. Perhaps the ajushee is cackling
merrily amongst broken green bottles in the gutter, having spent the
genuine tinder of gullible foreigners. Perhaps he’s sitting at the
hospital bedside of a beloved. Perhaps he’s huddling over the stovetop
of a streetfood vendor, waiting for a hand-sized portion of dukbokki. Or
maybe he’s in heaven giving witness to the ones who gave to the Christ
Child and the ones who sat stonily in church.

He who gives to the poor will lack nothing, but he who closes his eyes to them receives many curses. Proverbs 28:27

One man gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but
comes to poverty. Proverbs 11:24

{First published at www.americanchopsticks.blogspot.com on December 6, 2009}

I work long hours in a fairly middle-class section of a large and prosperous city, so it's not often that I have the opportunity to help people truly in need of food. Although I do want to do experiments with window-box gardening and hydroponics, it's also not the most feasable type of activity with my current lifestyle. Yet, after much reading and reflection about the world food crisis, I've decided to expand upon my all-too-infrequent and paltry acts of food conservation and generosity.

To start, there's a man (I assume homeless) who sits, sleeping, every Sunday afternoon when I step off the subway to walk home. His little grimy basket always has the same tiny coin in it, and for the last few weeks I've been tucking pocket cash directly into his hand (where it won't blow away). Despite his apparent unconsciousness, his fingers always manage to grasp the paper. From this point on, I've purposed to increase my tiny offering, but also to leave small food gifts in his basket. Although I'm fairly confident we don't share the same language, I think this would be a good opportunity to form a relationship with this person as well as provide for some immediate needs.

Already, I try to be conservative and eat my leftovers as much and as quickly as possible. The one bad thing about Korean-style dining is the complete absence of doggy-bags! Too often, lots of good food and good meat goes to waste during large dining parties, and it always saddens me. I'm going to start encouraging people not to waste such food, and I'm going to host an "Ice box" leftovers potluck for some friends to encourage not wasting food. I'm already convincing friends to use over-ripe fruit in smoothies and stale bread for toast. Believe it or not, so many people don't even consider or care about these tiny but impactful actions.

In addition, occassionally I provide snacks for some of the children I teach each day. While their parents can certainly afford meals for them, the kids spend their days trekking from one school or academy to the next, and often aren't able to eat until late at night. The convenience store snacks are often unhealthy. While I don't want to create a dependency in these children, I want to start rewarding good behavior or achievement with small nutritious snacks and meals instead of candy. Although it will cost me a little more out of pocket, it might prove more effective in the long run, and perhaps even improve their thinking and grades. Also, it will help support local agriculture and producers because of the specific local food I plan to buy.

It seems small, but that's the key to effectiveness, I think!