For the first time in my life, I've found myself giving money to old women begging for money on the streets.  I can't help but think: communism wasn't easy but now look at what democracy is doing to them. I feel myself confronted with this need more now that it's spring.  Either there are more people out now that it's nicer and easier to stand outside for long periods of time or now that it's warmed up I am actually looking around as I walk outside rather than tucking my head into my coat and walking as fast as possible wherever I am going.

I find myself surprised that I am stopping to give these women money or in one case turning back to give her money.  It's the first time in my entire life that I've given money to people begging on the streets.  And I can't help but think: why now? <!--more-->

Well, for starters I didn't grow up in a big city in the States where homelessness or need like this was on display.  My parents signed us up to volunteer our time at food banks sorting huge boxes of canned food, they helped us gather food for food drives in our elementary schools and they even took us to make and serve dinner in shelters.  I am sure that my parents gave money, when they could, to organizations that helped needy populations but they didn't talk about it much when we were little.

They seemed to prefer direct service.  In part because this kind of service requires that you really give of yourself--your time and your energy not just your money (not that this is a bad thing.  These organizations need money <em>and</em> people to survive)--but often this kind of direct contact with the people you are working with and for puts you in a position where you get to see and experience their need first hand.  The older you get the more it makes you aware of your shared humanity.

During college it became clear to me just how lucky (and privileged) I was.  I grew up in a small town with a strong public high school, good after school activities and I was able to go to a college half way across the country because of a mix of grants, scholarships and federal student loans.  I had no money to be able to give back but I did have a great college education and I was able to work.  So I decided to take a year and volunteer in a low income, historically African-American, drug and violence riddled neighborhood in Washington DC.

The site I worked at helped our homeless and near homeless participants work towards self-sufficiency.  We helped them set goals (both short term and long term) and break these goals down into manageable steps. The belief was that giving people a set of skills to rely on was much better than merely giving money, clothes and food or a bus pass (even though we did this as well.  It's awfully hard to work on your goals if you're hungry or have no way to get to your job).  So after my year of volunteering was completed I continued to volunteer in different ways and when I had a real job, I started giving money to the same organization I'd worked for.  Not a lot but every little bit counts.

And now for the first time, I am giving money to little old women on the streets in Sofia.

I think that I am doing it for a variety of different reasons.  The first is pretty straightforward.  It breaks my heart to see these women out standing on the sidewalks with a cup in hand asking people for money.  The second is a little less about the heart and more about the piratical.  I know just how little pensioners in Bulgaria receive.  It's laughable. I can't imagine how they live on this.  I can only imagine how bad it must be when you resort to asking strangers on the street for change.  Then there's the fact that I am not very well educated on the support network in Sofia for men and women like this and I can only imagine that if I tried to volunteer it would be a laughable affair given my "restaurant-shopping-and-direction-giving-quality Bulgarian."

So there it is.  I am giving money to old women who ask because I feel bad for them and I don't have volunteer level Bulgarian.  Also, it helps that it's spring.  I feel alive.  I feel like I am finally getting the hang of this place and a Leva or two here and there doesn't make a very big difference to me.  There's a part of me that feels guilty about being alive, happy and enjoying this place when I am out and about.  I am not worry about buying food, paying for utilities or about the cost of transportation.

I am out loving life in Sofia and I am met by these old women who've spent their lives here (and I assume spent their lives working hard) and now they've been reduced to begging in old age.  There's something supremely unfair about that.  I can't fix it but I guess I can make it a little bit better.  So I give them money.  I'd like to say that I do it because I am a good person and I think that's part of it but I also do it because it also makes me feel better about how much I am enjoying myself here.  And frankly, I have mixed feelings about this mixed motivation.