Today I walked right by a man with only one leg who was panhandling for money.  I guess it doesn’t really matter that he only has one leg.  I walked right by him, ignoring that he even existed.  He tried to get my attention to give his sales pitch, ”Sir, can I have a minute of your time?”  I walked onward.  I walked on as if his problems didn’t exist.  Maybe its the constant ‘sales pitch’ that I have become desensitized to; constantly being approached for money.  Maybe its me.  I have prayed that I would never get used to the poverty and the struggling that surrounds me in Mamelodi.  I fear that I am. 

God never lets me off easy and today was no different. 

My errand was an out and back, meaning that I had to walk past him again.  It was when I approached him the second time that it hit me.  I looked up and saw him, still standing there.  Our eyes met awkwardly from about 50 feet, he quickly looked away.  He knew I had just treated him as if he was invisible.  An overwhelming feeling of shame hit me like a brick.  I walked toward him.  This time I stopped.  He cut his ‘pitch’ to the bare minimum and got right to the point, “Can you spare anything?”.  I handed him 5 Rand; the equivalent of 75 cents.  I wanted to hear his story, I wanted to give him the opportunity to share.  I was too ashamed to ask.  I asked him if I could take his picture.  He didn’t look into the camera.  I was too ashamed to tell him that the picture was for me; to remind me.  To remind me of how I ignored him and his problems.  I handed him another 10 Rand.  He smiled.

I learned from a one-legged man that I am the one who doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

wS