Meet Albert

I want to introduce you to my friend Albert.

A 26 year old addict

Who lives on the streets of downtown Auckland

With his younger brother

Who begs across the road.

Albert looks old

Much older than his years would say

With years in his eyes that shouldn't exist

And pain etched in the lines of his face.

I met Albert when one day

I chose not to just buy him coffee

Not to simply give some coins

But to spend my lunch hour sitting on the curb

Watching people pass

And feeling as insignificant as he does daily.

A few days after meeting Albert I asked him

"what's your story?

How did you end up here with a strange woman

Sitting at your side,

Feeding you Mickey d's?"

He looked at me with a bemused smile and replied

"it's the same old story, nothing exciting."

I pressed on and eventually he gave in.

This is what he told me...

He told me of a mother with too many kids and too many addictions

Of a father barely remembered and gladly so.

He spoke of violence and police 

Of a string of houses

Where kids were paychecks

Siblings were separated

And sex, violence and abuse were normal.

Then he told me of the day a young 15 year old boy

Fled from a house that was never a home

Found his brother

And they stole into the night

On to the streets

Where they formed a life together.

At the end of his tale Albert laughed to see tears in my eyes.

For him, this story was typical,

For me, this story was terrible.

My anger at the injustice of it all burned within me.

He just shrugged and adjusted his blanket.

I got to know Albert more over the passing weeks.

I learned when he was high and wouldn't recognize me.

I sat with him when he was sober.

I saw him assessing the price of my engagement ring with his eyes when he was dying for a fix.

On those days I stood.

I bought him salad when he told me people only ever bought him fast food.

I learned his favourite brand of coffee.

And I met his friends.

Ross is a friend of Albert's.

They get high together, sharing a joint when money is low

Sharing glue when it is lowest.

He told me a story of a Christian family that didn't spare the rod or spoil the child

Of running away as a boy

Of finding solace with Mary Jane.

He ended up on the streets and tried to leave

After going to a detox centre 

Being set up in an apartment

Trying to find a job.

But life is hard in a house when your friends are on the street.

When no one will hire you for lack of qualifications

When you become reliant on the government to help you live.

'Corporate begging' was his name for the dole.

He was lonely

Alone

Afraid.

So he went where he was known

Went back to his street family

Went back to Mary Jane

And though he wishes he was clean, 

He is happier now than 'caged'.

I want to introduce you to my friend Albert.

A 26 year old addict

Who lives on the streets of downtown Auckland

With his younger brother

Who begs across the road.

Albert looks old

Much older than his years would say

With years in his eyes that shouldn't exist

And pain etched in the lines of his face.

He is man who is broken and asks for some patience.

He is a man who wants to be seen.

Do you see him?

Please, SHUT THE HELL UP

  

I have been through a fair amount in my life and like to think that I am a fairly accepting, easy going kinda gal.

But there are some things that really grind my gears.

I am talking fist forming, teeth grinding, 'stop talking for your own physical safety' kind of grinding.

The complete list of these topics and situations is way too lengthy to post here (hmmmmm.....maybe I am not so easy going after all) but there is one in particular that I want to bring to your attention.

THE CASE OF THE WELL MEANING BUT OBLIVIOUS ADVICE GIVER

As anyone who knows me can testify to, I love giving my opinion....on anything.....at any time. I know that it annoys people sometimes so I have learned, or am still learning, to shut the hell up and not assume people want to hear everything in my head. 

One of the reasons I have learnt this is because of the situation that I am about to outline.

Luke and I are poor. Not starving in Africa poor or living in the slums of India poor. We are still rich compared to most of the world. But relatively speaking we are not rich. We struggle to find money for everything, we often need people to help us out, and we have choose very carefully over what is a necessary buy and what is not. We also have a lot of debt from student loans etc and we live in a single room studio apartment in not the flashest (or anywhere close) part of town because we can't afford anything else. In short, we are like most students/beneficiaries/working class people.

I am trying to eat healthy. Family members are generously paying for me to attend weight watchers (coz I can't afford to pay for it) and I figure that to make good use of their money I need to eat well and put my all into it.

I don't know if you have been to a supermarket recently in NZ but there are a) not many choose from and b) not that much difference in their prices anyway. But I choose to shop at the one that has been tested as the cheapest to make my money go further. I budget, I list, and I shop carefully for bargains.

Despite these measures it is freaking hard to get good, healthy, nutritious food for our budget for three meals for seven days for two people. 

Good cuts of meat, decent fish, free range chicken? Forget about them. 

Enough fruit and vege for 5+ a day for two people that is decent quality and a good range? Bloody hard to find. 

Milk at nearly $2 a litre? Maybe, if there is enough money after everything else we have to get.

Tampons? Pads? Tissues? Nice soap? Good toothpaste? Or, for those of you like me who started going grey at 14, hair dye so you don't get mistaken for your husbands mother? Luxuries that need to be seriously considered if bought at all.

Apart from the huge inequality these prices make in living standards between the rich and those of us who aren't so rich, I really feel for people who may not know how to make healthy choices and see the choice as being between milk at $2 a litre or coke for $2 for 1.5 litres. Or apples at $5 a kilo or snack bars for $3 a pack of 6. If you are pinching pennies it is hard not to go for the bargains and get a trolley full of food.

But what is worse than this blatant inequality, what is worse than this pricing of essentials too high to afford, is the advice I have been given about how to deal with it.

I have been told, by numerous people, that I am simply wrong, that you can eat healthy for the same amount of money for the same amount of food.

Really? What planet are you living on?

What is worse is that nearly all of these people are wealthy and who wouldn't give up the luxuries that they are telling me to give up.

Would you be annoyed if you had to give up your favourite body wash? Would you be upset if the color of your hair made you look 20 yrs older than you are? Would you be annoyed if you had to choose quantity for your family over quality?

Would you be upset if you had to give up anything that you currently take for granted?

Then why can't poorer people be annoyed too??

What makes them less entitled to this stuff than the rich?

How is it fair for rich people to assume that poorer people should just be ok with what they can get, not what they want?

And why the hell should I listen to someone who has never had to consider getting a food parcel from the food bank, who has never had to decide whether tampons are a necessary expense, and who has never had to make the choices about food that we have??

....*Big breath, think about Jesus Christine, calm down*....

I'm sorry for that little outburst but really, when things are tight the last thing you need to be told is how actually you are wrong, you are obviously deluded, and you need to listen to the advice of someone who has never had no money in their lives.

It's kinda like being told by a whole-life-skinny person how to lose weight. 

Or a never-smoker how to quit.

Or a tetotaller who to stop drinking.

It is patronizing. It is insulting. It is not in anyway shape or form helpful.

I think sometimes we all need to learn how to shut the hell up, stop giving advice and rather listen to the problem, ask if we can help, and sit with people in their angst.

We are so quick to give advice as a society. Somewhere along the line we got told that we can't be wrong and everybody needs to know that. 

But guess what?

THAT IS WRONG!!

If we stopped talking and started to listen would what we hear shock us?

Would it make us rethink how we treat people and how we act?

If we became a people of love and not a peerless of advice what would that look like?

Would it make a difference?