The end of poverty begins here

I like being in Belfast city centre. I love it on winter evenings, when I can get all wrapped up, plug in my earphones to music suitable for an urban stroll, pull my hat down over my ears, and walk along in my own little world through the crowds of people. I love Christmas market. I am pretty excited that it will be back in front of the city hall in just a few short weeks, and I can go and spend extortionate amounts of cash on mulled wine, cheese, sliced meats, olives, and all kinds of stuff that I can usually get much cheaper in my local supermarket. I like the atmosphere of the city on those nights; people seem a little friendlier, the world seems a little slower, and the mulled wine always hits the spot.

Last year when I was heading to the Christmas market, I got accosted by some chuggers. Also known as ‘charity muggers’. You know the people – they get paid to raise money for various charities, by trying to get shoppers to sign up to a monthly direct debit. They’re usually young, hold clipboards, dress very cool, and come across as being incredibly excited and passionate about whichever charity they are representing that day. They typically use lots of enthusiastic hand gestures.  I have to be honest – I have a little difficulty with the concept. When I see them, I keep my head down, maybe pull out my phone, do whatever it takes to avoid eye contact.

Part of it is that I don’t like being guilt-tripped into giving away my money. I think giving is done best when it is done with an open heart, and a desire to bless. When things are given out of guilt, I worry that the blessing can be lost – both for the giver and the receiver. Another issue is that I think people often give because they feel put on the spot and that the only way to escape is to sign up! Those guys are well trained at getting you to part with your money. I used to work for a well known national charity, which decided to make use of chuggers as a one-off trial. I had to spend three days training people, getting them up to speed with every aspect of our charity, what we did, what our goals were, what the realities where in the countries in which we worked. I didn’t enjoy it much. The guys who went out on the street to collect money weren’t doing it because they felt passionately about the work we did – they just did it to get paid. I don’t begrudge them that – everyone needs to make a living. But I was annoyed with my own organisation for choosing to use a method that basically coerced people into parting with their cash.

I saw something one day when I was in town that really made me think about the chuggers, and how we respond to them. I was walking on Royal Avenue, and I saw a line of them up ahead – about 5 of them. I was considering crossing the street to avoid them, but then I noticed that they were all busy with people, signing folk up for their monthly donation. They had 5 (possibly) willing givers right there, so I figured it was safe to walk by them. I don’t remember the charity they were representing that day, but the slogan on their jackets said ‘The end of poverty begins here’.

The irony of the situation started to unfold for me when I saw a lady selling The Big Issue standing in the middle of the chuggers. People seemed to be even more keen to speed past her and avoid eye contact than they did with the chuggers. I bought a coffee, and hung around for a while, watching the scene. The chuggers seemed to be doing pretty well that day. They were only stopping people for about 5 mins – that was long enough for them to sign up to a minimum £3 per month donation for the next year. And they seemed to catch new people pretty quickly as well – they probably pulled in about 15 people in the 20/30mins I watched them for. But in that time, I didn’t see anyone approach the Big Issue lady. I didn’t even see anyone smile at her. I saw people trying to avoid her, desperate not to make eye contact. I saw people looking at her in all kinds of different ways – some with disgust, some with pity – but most just looked at her with a complete lack of regard. I watched the people who’d just signed up to send £3 a month to a charity they’d probably never heard of, to a country they’d probably never been to, to people they would never meet. Don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing essentially wrong with that. But if people really believed that ‘the end of poverty begins here’, then surely a good start would have been to look around, buy a Big Issue, and maybe smile at a woman who was in need?

I bought the lady a coffee, because it was pretty cold and she looked like she needed warmed up, and I bought a Big Issue from her. We chatted for a few minutes – just about the weather, the crowds coming up to Christmas, mundane stuff. But we shared a couple of smiles and the last of our coffee together, and I left hoping desperately that I had brightened her miserable day even a tiny bit.

I’m all for giving money overseas to countries in desperate need. I believe we have a moral obligation, as people who have much, to give to people who have little, and to help people and nations when they hit trouble. But for some reason, it can be easier to get guilt-tripped by a random, hip-looking stranger on the street who knows the right talk to feed us to get us to sign up, than it is to respond to a need that is staring us right in the face. It might be financial poverty - maybe it is poverty of opportunity, poverty of encouragement, poverty of hope. Belfast is full of people who live with poverty. We don’t have to look too far to find them. I have a feeling that if we responded in the appropriate, giving way to the people we meet in the city of Belfast, be they Big Issue sellers or our next-door neighbours, then there will be even greater significance attached to what we give, both in this city and overseas.

”...let us not love in word or talk but in deed and truth” 1 John 3:17

Comments

Write Your Comment

Name *

Email *

Website

Notify me of follow-up comments?