This morning Omar
crest-fallen at the rebuff recently received from the Changi Road beggar. In relating
his tale Omar groped between the English terms "mendicant" and
"beggar" for a distinction that has been lost to English, if it ever
existed. In Islam a beggar must be treated with respect; must not be dismissed
out of hand, certainly not abruptly or contemptuously. The outcome from that
moral code has long been noticeable at the tables at Geylang Serai. Rarely in
fact does one strike beggars elsewhere in Singapore. Tissue-selling aunties and
uncles certainly; not outright beggars.
Omar has his favourites in the class like everyone else. What Omar finds objectionable in a beggar is importunity, forwardness, presumption and lack of humility. None of this is the way in Islam and certainly not in Omar's book. Further, for Omar an individual ought to make an attempt to improve themselves, rescue their position; an effort is required. The lack is frowned upon by a hard marker like Omar, a retired school-teacher, risen himself from a lowly position of privation, if not outright poverty.
Either the Qur'an or Mohammad in the Hadith has poverty close to ungodliness. Omar's gloss is that poverty exposes one to ungodly practices and the danger of conversion too. Consequently a duty to lift oneself from that state; at least attempt to do so and persevere in the attempt.
When Omar heard the common exclamation among the hill tribes in old Montenegro his reaction was predictable.
O sirotinjo, i Bogu si teska! Oh poor, even to God you are burdensome.
— Too harsh, said Omar.
Omar's thought was to offer a crutch he had at home to the Changi Road beggar. A crutch would mean the man would no longer need to pitifully hop about as he does; would save the strain on the knee and other joints; open the prospect of work ultimately. Illiteracy compounded the problem for the Changi Road beggar, that was true. Still, there might be some form of work available to a more mobile man.
The beggar responded he had a crutch at home. Some time ago he had a job too, where he had fallen over. Omar had quizzed the Changi Road beggar. Fifty years old, living with a brother near Queenstown, about forty minutes away on the bus from Geylang Serai. Omar had the man's name, a fellow Arab by heritage it seemed. After the last exchange regarding the crutch and the possibility of work the Changi Road beggar avoids eye-contact with Omar. Early last year the Changi Road beggar had sat quietly on the footpath outside the SevenEleven, near the bus-stop, without any kind of appeal to passersby. Often he didn't even raise his eyes. For an outsider it took a number of days to notice the empty trouser leg. In recent months not only did the Changi Road beggar scrutinize passers-by, he even called out.
Omar has his favourites in the class like everyone else. What Omar finds objectionable in a beggar is importunity, forwardness, presumption and lack of humility. None of this is the way in Islam and certainly not in Omar's book. Further, for Omar an individual ought to make an attempt to improve themselves, rescue their position; an effort is required. The lack is frowned upon by a hard marker like Omar, a retired school-teacher, risen himself from a lowly position of privation, if not outright poverty.
Either the Qur'an or Mohammad in the Hadith has poverty close to ungodliness. Omar's gloss is that poverty exposes one to ungodly practices and the danger of conversion too. Consequently a duty to lift oneself from that state; at least attempt to do so and persevere in the attempt.
When Omar heard the common exclamation among the hill tribes in old Montenegro his reaction was predictable.
O sirotinjo, i Bogu si teska! Oh poor, even to God you are burdensome.
— Too harsh, said Omar.
Omar's thought was to offer a crutch he had at home to the Changi Road beggar. A crutch would mean the man would no longer need to pitifully hop about as he does; would save the strain on the knee and other joints; open the prospect of work ultimately. Illiteracy compounded the problem for the Changi Road beggar, that was true. Still, there might be some form of work available to a more mobile man.
The beggar responded he had a crutch at home. Some time ago he had a job too, where he had fallen over. Omar had quizzed the Changi Road beggar. Fifty years old, living with a brother near Queenstown, about forty minutes away on the bus from Geylang Serai. Omar had the man's name, a fellow Arab by heritage it seemed. After the last exchange regarding the crutch and the possibility of work the Changi Road beggar avoids eye-contact with Omar. Early last year the Changi Road beggar had sat quietly on the footpath outside the SevenEleven, near the bus-stop, without any kind of appeal to passersby. Often he didn't even raise his eyes. For an outsider it took a number of days to notice the empty trouser leg. In recent months not only did the Changi Road beggar scrutinize passers-by, he even called out.
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