[Editor’s Note: In view of the flaring controversy over whether Washington should formally identify Turkey’s 1915 massacre of Armenians as genocide, we present a timely reflection by our favorite columnist with a heart. In a spirit of remarkable adventure, Dr. Rosemary Cohen visited Armenia during the recent summer, and she tenderly recounts her findings.]
As our car was approaching one of the oldest Armenian monasteries, my friends asked me not to give any money to the lady who was coming toward us.
I did not understand the reason. But I respected their wish. As soon as the car was parked, the woman, who was in her late 30s, approached us.
Well-dressed, her face and her body showed that she also was well nourished. It seemed she knew my friends because they are active in developing the region.
The lady came to me asking for help. She said she had many children. All of them were hungry, and they were awaiting her return.
Rebuking an Attitude
My friends became upset. They told her she should be ashamed to beg. They knew she received help from the government, and so they suggested she should keep her pride and look for a job.
She should not lie and beg, only bringing shame to herself and to her country, they scolded.
She left. But as we were leaving, she came back and told them: “This lady was going to help me, but you did not let her. What would happen to you if she paid me?”
They said they had their national pride, and it was sad to see an Armenian lady — who can work — choosing, instead, to beg.
The Flower Lady
Later, when I returned to the Yerevan, while I was walking in Independent Circle, I crossed an old woman who was selling little bouquets of flowers in front of the National Museum.
When I looked at her face, I saw the determination of a businesswoman in her eyes. I smelled the flowers and asked her the price.
While I was paying her, she withdrew the nicest one and handed it to me. I told her I lived in a hotel, and I did not have any vases in my room.
Why She Was Upset
Because her flowers were nice, I just wanted to pay for one. I asked her to keep it for herself. She became upset. She insisted I take the flowers.
“I am not a beggar,” she protested. “My daughter has told me not to accept money from anyone.
“Early every morning, I leave my house and buy a big bunch of flowers from market. I break them into small packs. Then I walk the streets and sell them. At the end of the day, I have talked to people, I have walked through the city with a purpose, and I have made a little profit, which is good.
“If I stay home,” she continued, “I will end up sitting around. I will be a burden to my daughter. As long as I have the health to walk, I will work. This way I stay active, I see places, and I earn a little money.”
Explaining Motives
I assured her that I respected her very much. That was the reason I wanted to offer her the bouquet of flowers.
Day after day, I saw the same woman. Always, she was holding the beautiful flowers in her arms. The flowers and their colors changed everyday. The persistent lady kept walking and kept selling them in different sections of the city.
By her action, she somehow added her inner beauty to the beauty of the city.
Scanning the Population
There are many vendors around the city. Some just sit in a corner. They put up a little box or a table. From there they sell cups of mulberry, plums, sunflower seeds and whatever they can afford. While people walk in the streets, they buy these little cup, and they become their healthy snacks.
When I walked in Paris, I was amazed to see so many beggars in the metros, streets and public places. After some days, I realized that for some had a fixed location, as if they had signed an agreement of occupation. Probably for some, I was thinking, it seemed like a regular work.
And Where Do You Work?
For example, I saw a well-dressed man sitting in the same place every morning, between a sandwich store and a bank. A briefcase was laid under his feet. He knelt on it as soon as he arrived. He stayed in the same position all day long.
I cannot imagine a person who is able to stay in such a position the entire day.
At least he was nice. When a passerby had a problem using his ATM card, he guided the gentleman.
The Worst Kind
Worst of all were the women. All day they sat in the halls of metros, heads down, their children arrayed in front of them. The children were always asleep. They were neither crying nor moving, only absorbing, then breathing all the dust and dirt of their surroundings.
I have never seen so many beggars in Paris. I think every man and woman can always clean a house or a work someplace, allowing their children to move around as they should.
If any of them had a little pride in their lives, they would never lower themselves to begging while keeping their children in such conditions. Unless they earn much more than we can imagine!
I asked the rabbi if we should give money to the beggars when we see them healthy and well-formed.
Not Our Decision
This is how he answered:
If the person brings himself to the level that he asks for help, it is a mitzvah to help. It is not up to us to judge. But I know by experience that the ones who are really in need, they usually have a hard time asking for assistance. They try hard to earn a decent living.
This reminds me of a weekend when I was walking in Yerevan. A well-dressed young boy of six or seven approached me. With unusual enthusiasm, he showed me three advertising flyers of the local cell phone company. He pointed to the colored pictures, and with strong conviction he told me that these beautiful papers cost only a nickel.
When I looked at his innocent face, I saw his determination to sell a precious product. He probably wanted to help his family. I offered him more than he asked. I told him that I only was buying them because he was willing to work.
What a Future
He handed me the flyers, took the money, and thanked with his bright, intelligent eyes before running happily through an alley. My eyes followed the enthusiastic little businessman for awhile.
I told myself I had just met the future successful Armenian businessman.
Dr. Rosemary Cohen, who lives in the Fairfax District, received her Ph.D in sociology from the Sorbonne in Paris. She lived in two other countries before moving, with her husband and children, to Los Angeles in 1984. She has published three books in America, and is working on her fourth. Since 1985, Paris, an international art business. Her email address is rosemary@atelierdeparis.com.
