The Fruits & The Labor

When I was about eight years old I came upon my first evidence of homelessness. I was with my family at a state park near Newport, Oregon one rainy day and, as we were packing up the car, I spotted a shabby fellow rifling through a garbage can near the picnic area. I asked my mom why he might be doing such a thing and, without much explanation, she opened a can of baked beans, stuck a plastic spoon into it and told me to go give it to the man, who seemed grateful, if a bit taken aback, at the gesture.

Nowadays, when I see a homeless person begging for change around Seoul - usually in the subway stations - I generally empty my pockets of any spare change. The same goes for the blind or otherwise disabled people who work the subway trains with mournful music rattling forth from tape recorders dangling from their necks. I'm not sure that, in so doing, I'm contributing toward any ultimate good, but perhaps that's not the point.

Lately, though: a quandary.

There is, outside the subway station nearest our house, a man who on most days sets up a cart and peddles fruit - apples, tangerines, persimmons, melons, whatever the season brings. And he's there damn near everyday, unless it's snowing, raining or just too bitterly cold. The weather has to act a real bitch to keep this fellow out of the game and I've seen him out there, hawking his wares, on some lousy late nights.

I bought fruit from this guy a couple times a while back and now we've developed a personal connection of sorts. He knows me, recognizes me, nods a shivering hello to me when I pass. So now I feel guilty for not buying his fruit more often, and whenever I pass I feel like he's asking me with his eyes why I haven't bought anything of late. And it's not that his produce is bad, it's just that Na Young's mom gets better fruit for us elsewhere at a cheaper price.

The funny thing is, if this fruit seller were to quit selling fruit and get into the beggary racket I'd be inclined to give him a bit of money on most days, such that he'd end up getting more out of me than he does as a prunemonger. And I'm not sure why this is, why I'd be more inclined to give him money for nothing than I am to actually get something in return.

For lack of a better explanation, I reckon this comes down to pity on my part, which I hate to admit because I've always considered pity to be an insulting sentiment for the person on the receiving end. I could just give the fruit vendor, say, 5,000 KRW and let him keep the fruit but I don't expect he'd dig that arrangement. He doesn't want my charity or my pity - he's out to ply an honest trade, and the fact that he continues to set up and sell his fruit in the same spot everyday tells me that he must be making a profit of some amount, however meager.

The comedian Bill Hicks, when he was still alive, had a bit where he spoke of wanting "the most for [his] bum dollar," saying he'd be more inclined to give to a fellow who'd wash his windshield or play the guitar than to someone who merely asked for money. I am, it seems, the opposite. The way I see it, the fellow who washes my windshield or plays the trumpet on a street corner is like any other businessperson and if I value his service, I'll pay for it. Anyone reduced to beggary has, to my mind, clearly run out of options and without donations has nowhere left to go.

Maybe that's why.