London, UK.
I am always so aware of how much more visible older people are in Europe. Not only is it much safer for them to be outside than in South Africa, but everything is so much more accessible thanks to amongst other things public transport systems.
Standing in central London this morning, I watch a man crossing the road using two walking sticks. He looks very old and in pain. Just getting off the pavement negotiating the two walking and a shopping bag takes so much time that the light turns red. Standing in the street now, my heart stops as cars and bikes whizz past his feet. When the light turns green again, he starts the slowest, most painful journey across Charing Cross Road. I stare at him, feeling totally fixated by the need to rush over to help him. No amount of help will however make him walk faster – he is going at top speed.
The world rushes past. People on their cellphones, others chatting to friends, yet others staring ahead of them as only the London public can do, not noticing anything at all. Three-quarters of the way across the light turns red again. Within seconds horns start blasting from those in line who cannot see the man trying to get to the other side. Just as I regain a sense of myself needing to do something to help, a young girl steps in front of the cars and helps him to the other side. Cars rush, people walk, and life goes at its hectic pace. The man is now at the curb. It takes even more effort to get onto the pavement. Thank God for a lamppost against which he can prop himself up.
A whole host of feelings crept over me. I was so aware of how the world just did not see this man, how everything moves at such a fast pace and how some people are just left behind. If this had to be a daily routine of perhaps buying groceries, I cannot see him coping alone. I was aware of his vulnerability, his frailty and his stoic fight for independence. And I was aware of how the world is just not designed for people who are not fast in every aspect of their lives. But most of all, I was aware of how we are all on our way there. (I was exhausted after a long night and had a sore back…).
For the rest of the journey I watched how young people jump on and off the train, how they negotiate electronics, carry heavy backpacks and handbags which they effortlessly ing onto the luggage rack. There are special seats for people who need assistance on the train – the question remains how do you actually get to the train?
I looked at this man and wondered at what point will he give up trying. In her book “Spertyd”, Elsa Joubert tells how she had to give up one thing after another, mostly things that we all take for granted. Driving her car, travelling by train or plane, going on holiday with her children, going to her hairdresser in town. This man will not be able to negotiate London for much longer. I wonder how this must feel. Who will do his shopping….? I walk down the more than 100 stairs at Covent Garden, filled with a sadness that sits in my throat as I think of one of my favourite songs…
Have you seen the old man
Ralph McTell
In the closed down market
Kicking up the papers
With his worn out shoes?
In his eyes, you see no pride
Hands held loosely at his side
Yesterday’s paper
Telling yesterday’s news
So, how can you tell me you’re lonely
And say for you that the sun don’t shine?
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind
Have you seen the old girl
Who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair
And her clothes in rags?
She’s no time for talking
She just keeps right on walking
Carrying her home
In two carrier bags
So, how can you tell me you’re lonely
And say for you that the sun don’t shine?
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind
And in the all night cafe
At a quarter past eleven
Same old man
Sitting there on his own
Looking over the world
Over the rim of his tea cup
Each tea lasts an hour
And he wanders home alone
So, how can you tell me you’re lonely?
Don’t say for you that the sun don’t shine
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind
Have you seen the old man
Outside the seaman’s mission
Memory fading with
The medal ribbons that he wears?
In our winter city
The rain cries a little pity
For one more forgotten hero
And a world that doesn’t care
So, how can you tell me you’re lonely
And say for you that the sun don’t shine?
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind.