circumstances.

today's talk at church was something of a coincidence for me and what has happened throughout the week. How do I know I'm living the right way, God's way? During the week, on the way home from the city, I jumped onto my regular bus. This time round it was just past rush hour and emotions of stress were buzzing around everyone including me. Anyway, it was one of those buses that didn't permit prams to be let on unless you folded it and packed it away to the side. Then, what happened? As soon as the bus driver pushes the button to close the doors, a mother knocks on the door with her truck of a pram. I know, and everyone knows, that they can't help feel judgemental about this mother, she looked like a single mother who had a troubled lifestyle. So I sat on the bus, with my headphones in and buried my face in my book (still a coincidence?). I wanted to ignore what was going on, honestly who doesn't?

the mother was giving the bus driver a lot of trouble, edging him on how she needed to get home, but the bus driver was just doing his job and saying it was against regulations for him to let her on with her baby. She'd look like she lived in a life bordering poverty (by our social standards) and just needed a helping hand. You'd think, "just let her on!" but for me, I was against it. I know that seems really wrong for me to say coz at first you'd think I'm being cruel to this woman. But the truth is I knew her, and I had a feeling she knew me as well, although we were complete strangers. 

this woman is in fact, a regular on this bus. She also has her partner that occasionally accompanies her as well (that trip, she was alone with her baby). I knew this woman to the point where I observed her progress with her baby - the baby in her womb, the mother and her partner were gently holding hands. A couple of months later, a girl was being lifted into the bus, her 'father' giving all his attention to his treasure. As weeks turned into months, the baby starting to grow and the father becoming all the more distant and tired. On the rare instance, I caught a glimpse of the family passing through my campus, always the mother would shout and swear disturbing things to the father. 

so call me a bitch in saying that I was being judgemental. I wanted her to leave the bus driver alone and wait just another fifteen minutes for the next bus to come. But things didn't go my way, when another woman starting arguing her case to the bus driver, saying that the bus driver should let the mother and the child on and I quote "should just be a decent human being." Minutes passed and it was a struggle to get the pram onto the bus. I was quietly observing in and out of the commotion, hating myself for not assisting anyone. 

despite the reading and listening in my own world, I thought to myself (on my forty-five minute bus trip) why I was so bitter toward this mother. Why couldn't I be a decent human being? Given what I knew about her, I disliked the way she got away with the things the way that she did, people were always helping her. I'm bitter toward the lower class of our society because their circumstances. I know it's a bold and one-sided statement, but hear me out. We can play the blame with this, accusing society for not giving people a chance but, in the end, we are the choices we make. Consequently, we're stupid for not thinking about the results of our choices. I didn't hate the mother personally, I hated the way she choose to take advantage of her socially crippling lifestyle and forcing others to 'help' her. So, I didn't feel the need to sympathise for her, but I was also wrong to judge her for it.

by the time the bus arrived to the mother's desired bus stop, there was hardly anyone left, five passengers and the bus driver. Remember when I said, the bus driver struggled helping the mother with her pram? well, you really needed at least four people to help this woman out: the mother obviously held her child out, the bus driver holding the pram, another person to carry the mother's belongings (two bags, her purse, and a 2L coke bottle), and another to constantly hold the back door open (it'd shut close if you didn't hold it). We had three - the mother, the driver and surprise yours truly.

When I did my job, I didn't feel obligated to do it. That's the truth, what was going through my head at the time: there's obviously not enough people on the bus, what are of the chances that one of the other passengers would actually give would a crap? It was just logical, someone HAD too, but I didn't feel bitter about it when I helped out. Well, because she was already on the bus. In a story that centred me and my thoughts, it ended up being about her. That's the way it should be - about others.