So, I'm back in Norwich, beginning my second year at university. I had been meaning to write another 'University Chronicles' post about how great it is to be back (because it is) and how amazing it is to be living in a house with some other students (because it really is) but, unfortunately, this is not that post. Because today something happened. In hindsight, it doesn't even seem like that big or important of a thing, but at the time it really shook me up. So now I am writing about the thing, because I need to capture it in words somewhere. I'm a writer and I like to think part of that means living for the experiences that make me think about the world we live in and who we are. I live for the moments where I can see a story. This was definitely one of those (though I really don't want to romanticise or glamorise it).
Okay, so, this is the something that happened.
At lunchtime today (which, for me with my terrible student diet, was some time after four o'clock) I was out in town and so I grabbed a burger and a box of chips and went to sit on a bench in a small square in town, opposite one of Norwich's many churches and by one of Norwich's many bars. Close by, at the squat little wall that runs around the outside of the church, were a couple of scruffy-looking guys, possibly homeless, who I didn't really pay much attention to at first. But I was sat there eating for a while and started 'people-watching' out of habit or boredom or that overwhelming sense of paranoia that leads you to believe everyone is watching you and in some way plotting against you. But most likely, it was out of habit and the habit in question was my 'writer's habit' of looking for a story in the world around me.
It struck me that one of the homeless men (they may not have been homeless, but that was the impression I got) was lying on the ground and he seemed to be asleep. I slowly realised that his friend - a smoker of about fifty, wearing a faded old hoodie with his hood up - was trying to wake him up and talking to a couple of older women on mobility scooters who were sat a little way away. I heard the hoodie guy say the other man wasn't waking up (at which point I did look back at the man on the floor, just to check he was still breathing) and the women he was talking to said someone in the bar had called an ambulance. At this point, I would like to point out how utterly apathetic the man in the hoodie appeared. He didn't show anywhere near as much concern as you might expect from someone who was dealing with an unconscious man. It was like he didn't really care.
I knew what I was looking at. The man on the floor must have overdosed on something. The way he was twitching did not look healthy and for some reason I didn't get the impression it was alcohol that had done this. I wondered if this was a common occurrence. I wondered whether, if they were indeed homeless, it simply wasn't that big a deal in their minds because they used the drugs that did this to block out reality. I suppose really I just wondered why nobody seemed to be making a big deal of the man lying unconscious on the ground out in public.
I kept wanting to help as well. When I left later on, I hated myself for not helping. But the truth is, I didn't know what to do. I have some vague recollection of the recovery position - by which I mean, I know there is a position you should put unconscious people in, but I have no idea what it is - but other than that, I had no idea how to help. An ambulance had apparently been called already. I couldn't do anything to make it arrive faster, however much I wanted to call 999 and yell at them about how there was an emergency here and nobody seemed to care and tell them they should already be here. So I watched.
A waitress from the bar kept looking out at what was happening and speaking into a walkie talkie and I wondered if they were simply worried about what this might mean for their business. Maybe that was just me being pessimistic because of what I'd seen from everyone else, but again, there seemed to be very little concern on anyone's face. I didn't understand how life was still going on as normal here, like there wasn't a man lying unconscious right there in front of everyone's faces. Had they even actually called an ambulance? Why was it taking so long to get here? Did this not qualify as something important in anyone's mind?
After a while, two other 'friends' of the homeless men turned up. And that is 'friends' in inverted commas for a very good reason, because I know from experience, when I have been the one lying on the floor (it was a dislocated kneecap, not a drug overdose - don't worry) my friends showed a good deal more compassion, sense and responsibility than these two cretins did. They turned up smiling and joking about the man on the floor being 'where we left him' and, while humour can sometimes help relax these situations, this was not that. They could not care less about the person lying unconscious in front of them.
The only glimmer of hope I felt came when these two started having what looked like a fairly serious conversation with the man in the hoodie. For a moment I really thought somebody was taking the situation seriously, because so far it had seemed as though the man on the ground - the man in desperate need of some sort of help - had nobody looking out for him. This was where I stopped being a nosy narrator and became a part of the story.
One of the newcomers called me over. I was nervous at first. They didn't seem like the nicest sorts (their attitude so far had left a lot to be desired) but I thought they were probably calling me over to help out with the unconscious man in some way. So I did what I always do when I feel nervous about taking up the opportunity to help someone - I repeated the geeky but utterly important mantra of 'with great power there must also come great responsibility' to myself (meaning if I have the power to do something good for someone, it's not a choice, but my responsibility to do so) and I walked over there. The man who had called me over asked if I had valid ID. I assumed this was something to do with getting into the bar from which the ambulance had been called, so I told him I did. What happened next was what hit me like a sledgehammer.
He asked, if he and his friend gave me the money, if I would go to a shop around the corner and buy a certain product (the name of which I can neither remember, nor would I want to repeat) that he called a 'legal high'. I told him I didn't want to do that. Usually I struggle to say no to strangers asking for some small favour, but in this case there was absolutely no way I was going to oblige them. I couldn't believe what they were asking me to do in these circumstances. We're in the middle of a public place, in the afternoon, with a man twitching uneasily in some horrible drug-induced sleep on the ground and these men are not asking for my help with the man I had assumed was their friend, but are instead asking me to buy them what is effectively a drug. I wouldn't be surprised if it was the same product that had knocked out the man on the ground. How on Earth could they stand there, having seen the condition he was in, and not only utterly refuse to show him any concern, but ask me to buy them something that could leave them in the same state? What the Hell was wrong with these people?
Because that is totally wrong, isn't it? As nobody seemed to care about any of this, I did start to question whether the problem was with my way of looking at things. Is it so wrong to think we should try to help one another out? If a man is lying unconscious from some sort of overdose in the street, should that not be something of a priority? If you see a man in that state, would a sane person not perhaps think about avoiding drugs or anything that acts as one? How could you look at that and not care?
It hurt me. I was actually shaking and I didn't know what to do. I left. I walked away and people were looking at me and maybe they were judging me for doing bugger all, maybe they were just interested by what was going on or maybe I am totally paranoid and nobody was looking at me at all. I don't care. Fuck them. I got out of there, completely lost my appetite, and went to get a glass of ice water and a hot cup of tea, knowing I needed something to calm me down. I had to hold the mug of tea with both hands. They were shaking too much for me to keep it steady with one.
I was upset, I was shaken, I was angry and I was disappointed with myself. I wanted to help. I wanted to make a difference and I didn't, because I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know how to respond to the man's request for a 'legal high' (other than refusing). Shouldn't I have told him to come to his senses and do something to help the guy who was ODing? Or would that have done nothing other than getting him angry at me (though I seriously doubt he could have been any angrier than I was at him)? Should I have spoken to other people or done something to make sure this moron didn't get someone else to go and buy drugs for him? Because as soon as I refused, he started asking someone else and I realised I had done nothing to make any sort of difference whatsoever. Should I have tried to help the man on the floor? Should I now be learning first aid so I can help in future? Should I have called 999 and checked where the ambulance was? I told myself there was nothing I could have done to help or make any sort of difference, but I still wish I had.
Later I went and found a homeless man I had passed before in the street, selling the Big Issue, and bought one from him just because I needed to know I had done something good for someone. That sounds terrible now, but a good deed is a good deed, right? Even if it is motivated by guilt. I went back by the spot where this had all happened too. None of the men were there anymore, so I assume the ambulance had arrived and it had been dealt with.
I suppose the thing that really bothers me is that I did pretty much what anyone else would have done, but I don't know if that makes it okay. Shouldn't we all try to be more proactive in helping others? Shouldn't we act instead of sitting back, feeling like we don't know what to do? Isn't it about time we all accepted that we have a responsibility to help others instead of only ever thinking about keeping ourselves happy and safe? Isn't it time we all started to care?
So that's what happened to me today. That's what made me think. And now I need to go and get rid of a box of cold chips.
No comments:
Post a Comment