As I spied another homeless man, I noticed that a woman passed him by and then said too me as she also passed me ‘He’s not genuine, you know.’ I was so shocked and saddened, I would rather give to a fraud than pass by on the other side and miss those who are genuine. Surely no-one would choose to sit on the cold pavement, wearing flimsy clothing and receiving so few coins that they couldn’t get a hostel for the night.
As I spoke to him, he looked lost and uncaring. ‘Where did you sleep last night?’ ‘On the streets.’ Have you approached the council for somewhere to live.’ Just a shrug. ‘There is a church down the road which gives free meals each evening.’ Another shrug.
This man had reached the stage of no hope. He’d given up trying. The coins I gave wouldn’t help him if he didn’t try to find shelter. I really feared he would just become another statistic.