Pablo

One day last week, during late afternoon, I crossed paths with Pablo, an Italian (?) homeless guy from whom I often buy the Big Issue magazine. A lot of Issue vendors have quite a cheery disposition, which is most likely a mask to hide their troubles and attract customers (I can't imagine anyone actually enjoys being in the position of having to sell the Big Issue). Pablo often smiles when he sees me coming, although he generally has an understandably dour demeanour, as he did when I approached him the other day. "Cheer up, heartface!" I said cheerily, as I purchased my latest Big Issue, "thing's'll look up soon, I'm sure!" Pablo seemed doubtful (I didn't really say that, but I did try to appear jovial to lift his spirits). He admitted that he hadn't sold many Issues that day, which he blamed on the cold weather and people's general disinterest.

I've become friendly with Pablo through buying the Issue (which I do actually then read, and usually enjoy) and seeing him through voluntary work with the homeless; it's heartbreaking to see him, like many other vendors, still struggling away selling the magazine after all that time (and longer, no doubt) yet it is also somewhat encouraging to see that he hasn't given up. It's not like he has much choice, though. He told me that he still sleeps rough and can't get into a hostel because (and I remember the details a little hazily, here), given that he's from abroad, Pablo isn't a registered UK tax-payer and therefore, isn't entitled to goverment benefits that would enable him to afford a room in a hostel that could provide him with an address to use for a job.

I felt hopeless for Pablo, as I have before, wondering if he would ever find a way out of his situation, one familiar to so many of the homeless people I've met through working at a Sunday afternoon drop-in for the disadvantaged at my church. It provides them with a place to eat, shower, socialise and wash their clothes, etc but I've often felt that, whilst that's something good and Biblical (e.g. Isaiah 58:7) that has helped many, it's not really enough to change the lives of those like Pablo, who have, in his own words, "nothing" and perhaps encourages those who have "something" (i.e. those on benefits with a hostel room/flat) to take advantage of the church's generosity.

Amongst the occasional newcomers, It's always the same faces who come to the drop-in, some of whom I knew from a previous voluntary stint with a daily Salvation Army drop-in three years ago. Pablo depressedly noted that that drop-in now charges for hot meals where it didn't used to. I think that, whilst this is tough on a lot of the place's clientele (if that's the right word? It certainly fits with a place that charges for its food), it must partly be to do with keeping its funding going, even if that means charging the poor people it exists to serve. Not to mention that charging might give those that take advantage a kick up the arse to do more than they are to improve their situation. Pablo may have a point but perhaps he could save some of the money he spends on cigarettes for a hot meal during the week? That said, if the charges are putting needy people off attending a place that can help them move on when they themselves can't due to mental illness or whatever, then that can't be good.


As I've said, the hopelessness of Pablo's situation got to me and I was at a loss as to what to say to him. Is his predicament really as hopeless as he says? Perhaps there's aspects of it I don't know about? Who am I to give advice anyway? Rather, Pablo had some encouraging words for me. After expounding on what he didn't have, he told me to be thankful that I had something - a home, benefits, friends, family, etc and to appreciate these things. I told him I would. I know I can easily take what I have for granted when I feel down about my life, struggling "between jobs" and still living with the parents. I was grateful to Pablo for lifting my spirits about my own situation. All I can do for him is keep buying his magazine and pray for a miracle.