Sunday, April 25, 2010
Two hundred Pounds or Random Acts of Kindness?
Volcanic ash- what a strange substance: it causes airplane engines to stall (so experts believe), and it brings out the best, and sometimes the worst, in people. Like so many others I was stranded last week: nothing tragic, since I was staying with friends in Belgium, frites and nice beer were in rich supply, and I did not have kids who needed to get back to school. Even so, after five days of forced 
exile I was ready to head home, and eventually managed to do so by ferry. Together with about thirty other foot passengers I tried to cross the channel from Ostende: this required finding people who were ready to take us into their cars, since the Ramsgate ferry does not take foot passengers. We all managed to get on, but not before one lady offered to help, provided we paid £200! The outrage that somebody could have the audacity to make money off other people’s misery was universal, and she was shunned for the rest of the journey.
This also triggered a conversation amongst us which confirmed that the prevalent experience during this disaster was selflessness and kindness: we all had stories to tell of people who somehow remembered their common bond with humanity and agreed to perform generous acts, simply because it was the decent thing to do. Giving lifts, putting people up, offering a helping hand- all that became visible to a more than normal degree all across the world, and my fellow passengers vouched for that. But there were also the cases of people thinking of nobody but themselves: I encountered more than one person demanding unreasonable treatment and favours from airline employees who were doing their best to accommodate thousands of distressed individuals. In other words, this disaster was a test, and some passed it with flying colours, while others failed.
As we were sitting on the boat bound for Merry Old England, a spirit of celebration erupted, especially amongst those who had genuinely suffered anguish and discomfort up to this point. The thought of getting home that night brought relief too their battered souls. I had to think of a quote from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice:
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
These people had experienced mercy, kindness, care- and it refreshed them. But they had also shown mercy to others, and that in turn had a soothing effect upon their spirits.
I was struck by the different ways that people dealt with what were objectively sometimes trying circumstances. Some kept insisting on how unfair this all was, and that surely somebody had to do something about it, especially considering how important they were. Others took a much more philosophical view: one lady even said to me “it’s probably a good thing this happened; it reminds me of how fragile life is, and that’s not a bad thing”. Indeed those most at peace were the ones who seemed to observe Benjamin Zender’s Rule Number 6 “Don’t take yourself too seriously”. Keeping things in perspective is a quality that Westerners can easily miss: sleeping in a hotel for extra nights is not bad compared to what the average African goes through on an normal day, let alone when disaster or civil war strikes. But this can easily be forgotten…until we realize that nobody missed us at the office and that the world (and our job) continued even in our absence. So thank God for volcanic ash: may it drop from heaven whenever we need another dose of mercy and humility.
