Beggars Have Persistence

When we were in Chester, England over twenty years ago the was a young man on a main street trying to get passersby to purchase one of his socialist tracts. He had a standard patter in a heart-wrenching voice. Every few seconds he would interject "Please!" in a voice that went right through me.  It was hard to turn away. I had not heard anything like it, even in Romania, and I realised how professional beggars in very poor countries must have to sound because of the competition. One has to reach into primal places where we have few defenses to cut through the noise of the market. (BTW, his voice creates empathy in us. We have discussed that before.)

Similarly, when I was alone in Budapest in 2001 there was a man seated on the street in the cold, shabby and miserable. He said nothing but his sign (in English) was imploring, and nothing about himself: Food my little dog, with a dachshund beside him. The dog has died of old age inf nothing else by now, but I am still sad to think of it.

In Till We Have Faces, When Orual describes hearing Psyche weep, I thought first of the sound of the man in Chester, then of the appearance of the dog and man in Budapest.  I never heard weeping like that before or after; not from a child, nor a man wounded in the palm, nor a tortured man, nor a girl dragged off to slavery from a taken city. If you heard the woman you most hate in the world weep so, you would go to comfort her. You would fight your way through fire and spears to reach her.   

Psyche's sadness was real, and I presume the Hungarian's was. 

The voice of the man in Chester hawking pamphlets was likely an affectation, either discovered or learned with practice.  Yet still frighteningly powerful.  I can hear it still. I knew that there was no discussing or arguing about socialism with the man, nor even talking about some other subject.  This was his job, he depended on it in some way, and would do it regardless. News that a war was begun or a war was over would not affect that cry.

I think of that when I see the social media photos of Gaza with lettering plastered on them, of "70,000 innocent Palestinians killed. Send our NGO money. "  No correcting of the number would matter. No questioning of the innocence would dent. "Famine in Gaza is at catastrophic levels. Send us money to give them food." That Hamas is breaking into the storage, stealing the food and feeding themselves first while starving their own people would fall on deaf ears. 

It's their job.