The hungry man

Dear Mr. President,

The man, who delivered free newspapers to my letterbox, asked me for bread when he saw me collect the post.

He was sitting on the opposite side of the road sorting the papers. He called the bread by a different name, and I had to ask him to explain what he was asking for.

My first reaction was to feel annoyed, because we see so much food being thrown away by people, pretending to be hungry, to play on our emotions to get money for booze instead. Professional liars.

Then I remember that it has been some weeks since I saw food being thrown away.
Perhaps people are really starving.
The man’s face flashed in front of my eyes.
His skin was darker than that of our local native population. He looked thin and sickly. His eyes were hollow.

My husband just left and I was alone at home. How do I know he was not going to pull a knife out and stab me when I hand him the bread?

I turned my back to him and closed the door so I could feel safe.

Perhaps I am a sucker, I thought. Let it not be recorded in my book of life , when I one day stand in front of the pearly gates, and the gatekeeper refuses me entrance because I turned a hungry man away when I had plenty to give.

I went to the kitchen and spread some marg and apricot jam onto a slice of bread and grabbed a bottle of water and took it to him to still my conscience - or balance my heavenly books … whatever.

I could have given him much more, but I still was not convinced that he was honest.

O, I wish I lived in a country where we can trust people again.
I am at heart a Samaritan but here in South Africa it as called “a sucker”!

Original post from : (http://grannypolitics.iblog.co.za)