Coffee Helps

I’m gonna make a change, for once in my life
It’s gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference
Gonna make it right…

When I agreed to join thousands of other bloggers in writing a post on the topic of poverty for Blog Action Day, I was forgetting one important detail.

I, ladies and gentlemen, am a fatalist. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. And it’s a bit difficult to come up with an inspiring, positive, let’s-change-the-world kind of post when your default response is a despairing, Sean O’Caseyesque “the whole world’s in a terrible state o’ chassis!”, and what can I do about it?. Trust me - I’ve been trying for the past three hours, and becoming increasingly horrified by my own attitude.

As I turn up the collar on my favorite winter coat
This wind is blowin’ my mind
I see the kids in the street, with not enough to eat
Who am I to be blind? Pretending not to see their needs

I’ve seen poverty. I know it’s there. I know it’s a bad thing. But what can I do?

It’s not that I don’t care. I care. I once made the mistake of watching Comic Relief whilst under the influence of a considerable amount of wine, and as a result discovered the next day that I’d somehow donated my entire food budget for the week. Apparently (so I was informed as I ate my first imaginary meal of the week) I was moved to tears by an old man who had nothing but a tiny mud hut and a stone bowl, and who was fiercely proud of these possessions, looking after them with the care and attention that someone else might give to a shiny Rolls Royce. But he’s so proud of that horrible place! I kept sniffling sorrowfully, as I fumbled for my debit card and dialled the donation hotline. And it’s all muddy and horrible!

A summer’s disregard, a broken bottle top
And a one man’s soul
They follow each other on the wind y’know
‘Cause they got nowhere to go

Had I been sober, I probably wouldn’t have made the donation. Not that I wouldn’t still have been moved to tears, but I wouldn’t have entertained the notion that my small offering would make any difference. Think about it. Nobody can afford to give to every needy, disadvantaged person. There are too many. Homeless people on our streets, starving families in famine-ravaged countries, people with serious illnesses who could be saved if there was more money for treatment or research… the world is full of poverty, problems and pain, and I’m one fairly average girl looking on with an air of helplessness. I don’t have a great deal of money even for myself. And even if I do give what I can spare to a beggar at the train station or someone collecting money to help victims of domestic abuse, what’s it worth? My daily dose of Feel-Good? My spare change, if I actually had any, is pathetic in its nothingness. If I give my last few coins to a homeless guy and then round the corner to find a homeless woman with an crying infant in her skinny arms, there’s no option but to ignore her and struggle with feelings of guilt as I walk past. It’s not like I can go back and reclaim the money I gave to the first guy. It’d probably have magically transformed into a bottle of Buckfast by the time I got there, anyway.

I’ve been a victim of a selfish kind of love
It’s time that I realize
That there are some with no home, not a nickel to loan
Could it be really me, pretending that they’re not alone?

I fought against my own fatalism when I lived in Dunclug - the housing estate that I no longer need to avoid mentioning by name for fear of attracting attention to myself and having a brick thrown through my front window. In a uncharacteristically optimistic move, I threw myself into my youth work amongst the kids of the estate by moving into the area and befriending them. We had games nights in my house, a youth group at the church, and projects run by various charities/groups who worked to Make Things Better. But as much as I enjoyed it, as much as I believed that I was “doing good”, I couldn’t deny what was obvious to me: I wasn’t actually changing anything. I wasn’t giving anyone a better quality of life; I was sticking a band aid over a wound that needed proper treatment.

A willow deeply scarred, somebody’s broken heart
And a washed-out dream
They follow the pattern of the wind, ya’ see
Cause they got no place to be

So today, as I panicked about how on earth I could write something to fit in with the poverty theme when I’m clearly a nihilistic, pessimistic, fatalistic manic depressive, it became obvious that I should never have agreed to take part. Then, as I struggled through a disjointed and half-hearted paragraph about homelessness, Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror video came on VH1 (which has been providing my musical accompaniment today). I can say with some degree of confidence that I’ve never before used the words “Michael Jackson” and “inspiration” in the same sentence, but it all just fell into place in my confused little mind as I watched that video.

That’s why I’m starting with me
I’m starting with the man in the mirror
I’m asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change.

It’s not about what I can’t do, who I can’t help, how much I can’t give. It’s about what I can do, who I can help, how much I can give. I’ve been focussing on the wrong part.

Saving the world is not my responsibility, nor is it yours. I’m not obliged to give or do anything. And no, the bigger picture will not change just because I give my spare change to a Big Issue seller, nor will the millions of starving children be suddenly fed if I give to one Third World charity. An underpriviledged community will not become free from drug/alcohol/abuse/neglect problems if I play endless games of Monopoly with some teenagers or take a group of kids ten pin bowling. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.

I can’t help everyone, and I can’t solve the problems. Now, however, instead of shrugging hopelessly and saying “What can I do?”, concluding that I can’t do anything, and then doing, erm, nothing, I’m going to change the emphasis in my question. What can I do?

Has it really been that simple all along?!