Beaten Up by Kaze
At the park while we were putting out the socks and beanies for street people, I saw a young man across the street sitting on the sidewalk with his head between his hands. I carefully walk across two lanes to ask if he is okay.
Blood is matted on his forehead and he has a big cut above his right eye. “I have some sandwiches and some socks. I can take you to Healthcare for the Homeless to look at that eye, if you like.”
This beautiful smile spreads across his face. “No, I’m going to let my face heal itself. I’m not a victim. Thank you for the food and socks. I was feeling a little like nobody cared.”
Later, he crosses the street to talk to us. “I’m a street performer and I spent a little of my money to stay in a friend’s house last night. A couple of guys with girls woke me up and told me to leave. I didn’t want to leave because I had paid. I don’t think they intended to rob me but when they started hitting me, they then took everything I had.”
We offered him a sweat shirt, a beanie, gloves and a blanket. He took them gratefully and performed for us in return. His rap and his poems were about being blessed. We clapped. He was gifted.
We couldn’t stop talking. “I didn’t think that this day could turn out good. I sorta believed that there weren’t enough good people in the world. And then you show up laughing and giving me things without my asking. I am really blessed. Take a picture of me—make me the poster boy of not being a victim.”
We share our stories with him and finally wave goodbye.
My friend and I both agree that this is the kind of encounter that keeps us coming out to the park to sit with people who want, need, deserve to be valued. We give because so much has been given to us. It is an ongoing cycle—it is about mercy.
kazegadway 