A Fool I Am

Sigh…

Life seems so hard to live at times. I’m the kind of person who usually struggles with himself internally. I have 2 minds in one body. One desiring to do what is good, right and pure all the time. The other desiring to do what is devious, immoral and much less innocent (and seemingly more fun) things. The struggle usually involves trying to muster and rally the ‘light’ part of me so that it is not overtaken by the ‘dark’. Like a single ray of light surrounded by complete darkness, the darker parts of our minds seem to always be threatening to swallow up the light.

I often second guess my own thoughts and intentions. I question my own heart. I find myself always asking if I’m doing the ‘right’ thing in life.

Last week, I found myself driving all the way into the heart of town on a Friday night, braving the horrible traffic and pouring rain. There was a man, a complete stranger, who was waiting for me. He needed what I had in my pocket. An envelope filled with a sizable amount of cash. I had never met him. I had come to know him only a few hours earlier, on the phone. A Singaporean man, stranded in KL. He told me he had lost his wallet and phone while on holiday. He needed money to clear his hotel bill and to take a bus home. His Embassy would not help him and he didn’t know anyone else. He got our number off the internet, called my office, looking for a former colleague of mine. Somehow I ended up taking the call instead, and somehow, I ended up volunteering to help him out of his predicament.

Most of the people I told had raised eyebrows. Apparently to them, this was something totally out of my character. I was less than pleased with their reaction, but I went ahead anyway. I know I’ve never been one to actively participate in charity towards others, be it the poor, needy or sickly. I frown upon giving to street beggars, I coldly turn away people soliciting diner from me over lunch, and I refuse to sign up for any monthly contributions for cancer, world hunger or any sort of humanitarian funding. But this time, for once, I felt sure that this was the right thing to do. There was a man in need of help desperately, and I was in a position to help. And so I did.

When I met him, he was nervous and jittery. I guessed he had a long day. He told me about what happened, how he lost his wallet, how he was refused help, how no one came to his aide. I gave him the cash. He left his Singaporean phone number and address with me. We agreed to meet up the following week, when I was in town. He said he wanted to repay my kindness. I felt good. I felt like for once, I had done something good for someone. I felt like I had done the right thing. It was a risk, giving money to a stranger. A few people raised doubts. “Do you think he’s genuine? Do you think he will really pay you back?” I didn’t really know. I just chose to trust in the goodness and honesty of man.

Right now, it feels more like I’ve was confirming the naivety of fools.

When I was finally back in Singapore and ready to meet the man again, I dropped him a text. It didn’t go through. I tried calling, but the line was still deactivated. Strike one. I was guessing perhaps he still hadn’t got his mobile number reclaimed. I waited a full day, but still no sign of him. I had left my business card with him, but there was no news from him. So I decided to search for his company and called his office instead. But after a 5 minute conversation with reception and a 20 minute talk with the HR department, I discovered that the man didn’t work there anymore. He had left, 10 years ago. Strike two. Still I gave it the benefit of the doubt. The lady who spoke to me seemed to know him personally from back then. She praised me for my kindness, and even vouched for the man. Said he didn’t seem the kind that’d try to pull such a thing, especially in tiny old Singapore. So I gave it one more day.

But the silence bothered me.

And so last night, after dinner I made the drive from my apartment to the address he gave. It was right across town, somewhere in Hougang. I tried imagining all the different scenarios on how this might end up. Would I find him? What would I say? Should I still play nice? Do I make a scene? Do I still try to be graceful? But the scenario that greeted me was the one I feared the most, the one I was hoping to eliminate by driving there.

The address did not exist. The block existed. The floor existed, but not the unit number. Strike three.

I was out.

I was angry. I repeatedly cursed the man under my breath. How dare he take advantage of my kindness. How dare he store me in the face, shake my hand, thank me, then stab me right in the back and run off with my money. But I was angrier at myself. I felt the fool, for naively trusting; for stubbornly choosing to be wide eyed and innocent, even when others were blowing caution to the wind. What was I trying to do, feed my own ego by acting the part of the generous, graceful, good Samaritan?

The one time I decided to act gracefully and innocently became the one time I am reminded why there is very little place for such things in this fallen world. It would seem that in this world, to keep our innocence will mean being fools willing to suffer the indignities of the world. 

If being good is to be a fool, then perhaps, a fool I was meant to be.

Good night world.