A few years ago, as I was walking through an underpass in the Orchard Road area, I saw an elderly, shabbily-dressed woman who was trying to sell some wares laid out on a mat on the ground. They were unsaleable stuff—old-looking bags, rusting cans of food, bottles of soft drinks, an assortment of pens and pencils—and were clearly her means of bypassing the law against begging.

I picked up a small packet of fruit juice that was clearly past its expiry date (and which I would discreetly throw into a bin once out of sight) and handed over a two-dollar note. Refusing to take it, the woman looked at me sternly and said, ‘Three dollars.’ Shocked, I paid the amount.

But as I walked away, I thought angrily, ‘What a greedy woman. I’ll never ‘buy’ anything from her again.’ Then about a year ago, I had a change of heart. Feeling sorry for her, I picked up a packet of tissue paper from a stack, and handed over the small change I had, which amounted to a dollar and fifty cents. Once again, she refused to accept the money and said, ‘Two dollars.’ I said firmly, ‘No, this is all I’m going to pay,’ and she said, ‘Alright.’

This time I felt real anger. It was directed at the woman’s special brand of greed that reduced all kind people to suckers and exploited them shamelessly. If I had offered her two dollars, she would have demanded three; if I had handed her a five-dollar note, she would still have looked me straight in the face and demanded ten. I felt as if my dignity, my very sense of self, had been violated.

Since then, I have reflected on what I perceive as one of those moral quandaries that must form part of the day-to-day experience of people like ourselves, the haves who have the moral obligation to give to the have-nots in our society. But does the giving take place only under conditions acceptable to the giver? For instance, only when the beneficiaries of our largesse show due deference and gratitude? Can giving ever be unconditional?

I assiduously avoid this woman each time I walk through the underpass, as I don’t want to subject myself to another disagreeable experience. But I don’t like the little twinges of guilt that come with this thought, as soon as I walk past her: it is the desperation of her poverty that makes her so unlikeable.

I have decided on a way to get out of this moral quandary. The next time I pass her, I will just hand over a dollar or two, and walk on, depriving her of all that hideous pretence of a business transaction.

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About Vignettes...

A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...