Por Que?

This has nothing to do with travel and more to do with mindset which is important in travel..

Every second Thursday I head down to the pub bit of a catch up with a couple of mates, some pool, couple of cigarettes and a laugh before I head down to a place called Catacombs (Cats) which I guess is a drop in centre for the indigent popululation of Wellington, some are homeless some mentally ill, some just like it there they feel at home.
So the story starts at the pub, this time I was joined by my flatmate for a couple of drinks, while we were talking of various things the subject of Cats came up, she asked “why do you do it” the answer didn’t come easy because I don’t really know, she pestered me for a bit longer and I ended up giving her a flippant comment that I can’t recall.
After I had a few beers it was time to head down and make tea, coffee and some toast for what largely are a pretty decent bunch even if they smell bad and talk with a permanent mumble that is not always easy to understand.
It was a pretty good night not too busy not too quiet had a couple of those kind of conversations where you only understand half the words and have to fill in the gaps with whatever you think makes sense, sometimes the drunken ramblings of a madman never make sense and if they did it may not be music to the ears of the sane.
Three hours later 10:30pm it was time to turf them all back out on the street, it was a clear night but pretty cold somewhere around 4-5 degrees, I always feel bad at this time knowing they have nowhere to go and I’m heading home to jump into my nice warm bed.
After locking up I started to make my way down the street to grab a taxi.
Up ahead I saw a couple of the guys sitting on the side of Courtney Pl drinking red wine out of plastic water bottles, as I passed one of them barked HEY!! as I turned he grumbled “I know you” Yeah yeah from up at Cats I said, I walked over and sat on a ledge next to them, your pretty intense aye? Intense! really! I never thought of myself as intense before so I dissagreed with a smile, with one eye missing and the lid shut tight he looked at me through his good eye with a stare reserved only for those who have seen more than most, the kind of look an old man has at the end of his days, with his eye locked on me he spoke in a voice scarred with alcohol and a lifetime of tobacco smoke, all I want is respect he said I don’t want to be treated like a child, sometimes when people speak to me they think I’m dumb I’m not dumb just homeless, I agreed it seemed to be a fair enough request to me, however I’m not sure how I come across to him, was his comment directed at me or just a general comment, intense was the word he used I think that could be more a mixture of uncertainty and the fact I’ve only being going to Catacombs for a short time, still finding my feet so to speak.
He told me more about what it’s like for him being out on the street how people look at him and that he can tell just from a persons look what they think of him, after about ten minutes or so I shook his hand wished him a good night and headed on my way.
Now I’m not saying that what this guy told me was all that profound but he still taught me something, we’re not all that different he wants the same as I, not in a materialistic way but in a human way he wants respect to be treated as a human and not some indigent throw away, as some kind of circus freak, simply to be treated as a human being.

As I was walking the question asked earlier that night came back to me, why do you do it?
The answer, I do it to learn…