The evening Tuscan sun rises on this Bahian city, irreverently making the old whipping post the most lovely place to endure the slight sting of this last nightfall here. It is a testament to this city that I have done so little. Prominent churches were left unvisited, day trips unmade, beaches uncombed--all without regret. Something here bespoke comfort and welcome, inviting me every few steps to listen to a good story and share some moments in the unique bonds of gringo and Bahiano, branco and negro, buyer and seller, patron and beggar, and grieving Michael Jackson fans. Except with one hostel-mate, I don´t think I ever got beyond these nascent relationships and into the realm of friendship, but my sentiment is that I would have, given a bit more time.
There may be too much sun to brood very well here, but I encountered enough feelings ofpowerlimited-ness (because I´m not necessarily powerless) to substitute nicely for the Seattle clouds. My hostel manager labors from 8 a.m. until at least 11 p.m., attending too few guests for his boss to approve some help, but too many guests to allow him any uninterrupted period of calm or rest, let alone a day off. My beggar patronees roam and once fixated, ask, plea, beg, kiss to get someone to buy them food, but they quite realistically refrain from mentioning the longer-term improvement. My bartender doesn´t know how he can raise the extra $75 per month (that´s a lot of money here; just for reference, the minimum wage is about $230 per month...and the necessities of life aren´t that cheap) needed for the lowest quality English classes that might enhance his employability. My coconut seller wonders about migrating to the U.S., but is discouraged by the idea that he has to do it illegally. My aluminum-can collector, one of many so engaged, is paid 50 cents for 2.2 pounds (1 kg) of cans, a weight which requires about 70 empty sodas or beers (that go uncollected by others), an amount which requires lots of thirsty people who are often lacking in the low season.
The feeling of powerlimited-ness is not, and indeed should not, be new or depressing to a former social worker, tutor, mentor, dementia-care activity worker, and bureaucrat. Yet, the feeling can and should be striking and recurrent and vexing. For, it questions our responsibility toward others. The nature of such responsibility, as best as I can tell, is the most compelling question in my life (it implicates history, economics, law, religion, ethics, psychology, science, etc., etc.). Obviously, I lack the means to answer in any comprehensive way (I imagine a religion might help...not blaming you, Mom). Thus overwhelmed, I get to experiment in little ways (I´m leaving aside systemic issues here).
Often, I give money to beggars who ask and don´t think it a noteworthy deal. Last night, however, I sought out the beggars and just offered them some money without them asking or approaching me. It caught two kids (ages 12 and, I think, 13), at different times, off-guard enough that they each released a toothy smile and extended their hands to give me daps. Of course that made me feel good, and feeling good is cause for some alarm in my line of work. Seeking the good feeling is most definitely not the primary way to go about do-gooding, for it elevates the do-gooder´s satisfaction too basely above the desires and goals of the person being ´´helped.´´ And, yes, the do-gooder´s satisfaction is often different from that of the person being helped. Here, though, my own satisfacation seemed to align with that of the kids, and I allowed myself to enjoy the happiness.
After I had given away the planned amount of money, I refused many others who asked. And I did so with much less regret than if I had given nothing at all or than if I had given after being asked. I guess I bought myself some peace of mind. The peace, like most things, came for much cheaper here--$1 per head--enough for a salty pastry that not would not serve as anything more than a snack for me.
(P.S. I know that you are a whole bunch of thoughtful people concerned with such questions...chime in with ideas and stories...)
(P.P.S. I´m sure this piece reveals some arrogance, ungrounded assumptions, and ego-centric holding-forth. Please feel free to criticize and point all this out--the whole point of this blog/trip is for me to think...you all help me do it)
(P.P.P.S What am I ignoring???? That I´m profiting from partaking in an economic system that works for some and now feel guilt at the visceral and undeniable realization that it doesn´t work for--even exploits--others and am buying my peace with the cheap sentiments expressed above? Is it the whole question of do-gooding that is a problem?)
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The problem with do-gooding is that its a luxury that we have (we=law school do-gooders and other well-off liberals?) and it allows us to think of our privilege as as a right. We can choose to elevate others if we want to which gives us power over them.
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