Last week, a wealthy man did exactly that. His project, called Wearelucky., involves the mystery millionaire himself travelling across the globe, handing out a grand in cash to complete strangers - those he sees doing good deeds, or just because they look interesting. The only catch is to do 'good' with the money.
But when he brought this idea to London, giving away the money seemed more difficult than he first anticipated, where many people rejected his money in a distrusting fashion.
Maybe the fact that London is one of the most densely populated cities in the world (A statistic on an underground poster today stated that there is reaching five thousand people per square kilometre) makes Londoners particularly sceptical. The many people who, during a daily commute, ask for their hard earned cash, teamed with horror stories of various pickpocketing and street scams, would make even the most gullible think twice about accepting a wad of cash from a complete stranger.
Living in a populated city like London certainly makes you more streetwise and aware of your surroundings, but despite the masses of people we may walk past or sit opposite on the tube every day, if you decide to strike up a conversation with a fellow commuter, you're greeted with a combination of suspicion and mild terror.
Last week, after a lengthy discussion with a friend about such experiences (and the idea of a man approaching strangers with a grand in hand just for good karma), I decided to strike up a conversation with another woman on the train home. A conversation that lasted all of two minutes, I felt I'd done something nice and personal in what can often be an impersonal town. I never expected this temporary friendship to go any further than the exit of the station, but I was expecting some good karma.
But then things became weird. We went our separate ways, only for the woman to chase me down the road, asking for my name so she could add me on Facebook. Her reasoning? She liked my tights. I was quickly reminded why people do not make friends on public transport, and how, despite the millions of people who live and around London, it can still be the loneliest place on the planet to some.
This must be particularly true for those who do not originally come from the big smoke. A friend of mine just returned from Thailand after a few days of island hopping in the search for rest and relaxation. The day before the flight home, with fingers and toes in the capable hands of a ladyboy nail beautician, a tsunami warning was issued along the entire coast of the island. Everyone was told to get to higher ground.
As they made their way up the hills, a tuk tuk driver pulled up next to them and picks all four of them up, as well as seven Belgians, driving them up into the hills. After weaving in and out of manic traffic, they pull up at a hut - the man's home. Both himself and his wife make them all comfortable in their living room and whilst they wait for some news, food and drink is prepared for their new-found guests.
Thankfully, they all live to tell the tale. The tuk tuk driver returned them all to their relevant accommodation later that night, without demanding any payment or reward.
Whilst Londoners can be compassionate in hours of need (there are many heart-wrenching stories from the dark tunnels of 7/7), it seems difficult to believe that we would take eleven strangers off the street, bring them into our homes, feed them, make them comfortable, and ensure they get to their destinations without any more problems. Certainly after the stories of the Wearelucky. millionaire, and my personal attempt at good karma, my reservations may well outweigh any good intentions. Maybe one day that will change.
No comments:
Post a Comment