He returned his gaze to the window, slightly disturbed. The pale-looking girl still had her eyes fixed on him. To avoid the awkwardness between him and everyone around him, who all seemed to be either too hungry to talk to one another or were just behaving like typical Joburgers, he had started to peruse the old magazines that sat before him. As old as eleven months back, they were his last hope to keep his cool.

He plunged head-first through his mind’s eye and emerged in another time and place. Far away from the creepy restaurant he found himself in. Too far from the agony the little girl’s ordeal had made his mind go through. Far from all the madness in his life that had brought him to this environment in the first place. His fingers flew across the page. Invisibly scribbling something even he couldn’t read.

“Sir, your order is ready,”

“Thanks,” he said picking up his take away.

He walked quite fast to avoid the pale-looking girl in shabby clothes who had made his stay at the restaurant the most uncomfortable of his life.

“Hi,” said the girl.

“Hi,” he said.

He walked still, paced himself to cross the road fast enough to beat the traffic light. To his disappointment, it turned red as he was about to cross. Cars came rushing in full speed past him.

“Can you help me out?” said the pale looking girl.

Thato took a minute from his deep gaze at the traffic flow to examine this shady-looking white girl. He was greeted by a deep stench that seemed to smell like a mixture of dried spices and grease. He walked slowly, looking about him, to where she stood. He took a few seconds to analyse her as the traffic robot kept him at bay.

“How can I help you?” he said.

“I need something to eat. Just ten rands will do,”

“I’m sorry but … I can’t help you. I don’t have money. Really,” he shrugged his shoulders.

She had blue eyes and freckles that made her face look more like an orange and ginger hair that was nicely combed on the side of her head. Her greasy dress appeared as though it had never been ironed. Unlike moments before, her bleak facial expression revealed more than the smile she showed when she greeted him.

“Please. I’m begging you,” her tone changed. The broad smile had faded and an emotionless face surfaced.

The traffic light had granted him the right of way. But the sombre sight of the woman wouldn’t allow him to cross. His feet were locked and couldn’t move an inch. He stood still as the traffic light turned red yet again. He broke into a cold sweat. His heart was still with the girl in front of him. She had her hands stretched towards him. Her eyes filled with tears. His heart wanted to give her something, like he always did for other beggars.

He wanted to reach into his pockets and give her some cash. But as it had never happened before, his heart just couldn’t get past the fact that it was a white girl asking for his money. The girl from the same race that owned the means of production in the country despite being the minority. The girl is from the people that still had black people’s land, resulting in millions of black people being stuck in informal settlements and shacks in the poor living conditions in the townships, he thought.

***

Tell us: Do you think the skin colour of a beggar influences how people give to them?