How should we relate to the misfortunes of this world?

I traveled with my sister after attending the board meeting of interRAI, an international health care research group, in Nuremberg, Germany. I am not a member of this group, but my teacher—my doctoral thesis supervisor—is. Thanks to her, I was invited as a guest. I thought this would be a good chance for me to learn.

After the meeting, I traveled with my sister to Vienna, Venice and Rome. I don’t know why, but the most disturbing thing for me on this trip was the panhandlers and beggars. There are beggars in all three cities. I am aware that I live a fairly comfortable life, sheltered and secure. I am also aware that there are many people who are very unfortunate. But I had no idea I would react this way. This was not the first time I had traveled overseas and definitely not the first time I had seen people who were very poor.

I believe that Hong Kong has no beggars who are from Hong Kong. We have homeless people, but no beggars. We used to have Hong Kong people who begged, but not anymore. I believe that the beggars we see on the streets of Hong Kong come from across the border (mainland China) to make a living. Because the social welfare system of the Government of Hong Kong has developed gradually over the years, no one needs to beg. For me, as a citizen of Hong Kong, this is an immensely comforting fact.

There I was in Europe, traveling as a tourist, enjoying myself, spending money as I chose. But there were people begging for money. I found myself not knowing how to relate, both to them and the situation. I looked at their faces, and sometimes our eyes met. I did not give to those I judged to be “professional” beggars. I gave a euro or two to those I thought might be in dire need. And then I moved on.

There were some old gypsy men and women in Rome who sat in front of churches begging for money. I knew in my heart that day in and day out, they sat there asking passersby for money. Begging has become a way of life for them. I didn’t give them any money, but I was so filled with remorse that I looked at them and apologized. I kept saying, “I am sorry,” “I am sorry.” Even professional beggars are beggars because they have the misfortune to be on a life path that, clearly, no one who had a choice would choose.

Phil Collins recorded a song called “Another day in paradise.” I am very much the person he described: Someone in the street “called out” for help but I pretended not to hear it. Streams of locals and tourists walked past these unfortunate people, just like me.

So what should I do? How do I relate to these people who are less fortunate than I am? Do I go back to my usual life and continue to live as I did, selfishly? Do I give up my limited resources and donate them all to charity? Do I take up charitable causes and live my life as a crusader?

I know I can’t do that. I can’t give all my money away. My sense of security is important to me. What then should I do? How should I live my life? I find my silly self asking the questions I asked when I was a young adult, passionately seeking a purpose in life. Should I not be past that stage by now?

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.