Another bus journey, this time in horrible weather. The falling rain leaving criss-crossing veins on the glass. Miserable faces, obscured by condensation pass me by outside as I try to decide where to get off. They say rain is cleansing and this may be true for the many homeless people who line these streets, hidden in plain view. Their suffering is offensive, so we ignore it; block it out. I do not think that the rain can wash away some of the obscene things I've seen in this city however. Still, revolt of the flesh is absurd, so Camus tells me, for what we despise about other humans is the same as what it is to be human and it is absurd to hate yourself simply because you are human, or to hate the nature of things you cannot change.
Still it rains. Spit shine your black clouds they say: make the most of what you've got. I decide to stay on the bus for as long as I can. I will always have legs to walk, however the warmth of this bus is finite. I must leave it at some point. Spit shine your black clouds indeed.
I was forced to do just that last week when my bourgeois expectations of life, of what is normal were proven to be false. I was confronted by two individual instances of geriatric collapse. In the second instance the man's head bounced off the pavement like a grotesque bowling ball, thud included. The first made no sound. He just slumped against the bus shelter as if he was embarrassed, or lazing. From my own retrospective observations, it was as if this silent collapse was a practice run.
I was inside the well populated bus shelter, at the rear of the long queue whereas the man collapsed at the front. My location allowed me to view the whole incident but gave me enough moral legroom to do nothing aside from spectate. An ambulance was called by someone closer than I, so no action was required. While waiting on the paramedics arriving a number of the queue drifted away and I made my way to the front of the queue. By now, the bus had arrived and in a bizarre scene, people did not know whether to get on the bus or continue waiting in the queue. To get on the bus would entail almost stepping right over the man who had collapsed, which would be rude, at the very least. At the same time, with around twenty people queuing not everybody could hope to be of assistance. People were clearly struggling with the decision but it was made for them when the bus driver cut the engine and left his vehicle in order to check on the man, who must have been a regular passenger as the driver knew him by name.
As I mentioned, I had made my way to the front of the queue, partly from curiosity and partly in order to ascertain if I could be of any assistance. An unexpected potential NHS angel descended upon the man and began relieving him of his tie and collar as well as freeing the woman who he had collapsed upon en route to the pavement, the shock of which had shocked the woman so much that she instantly declared that he had died. Now we had a nursing student who was happy to help and use her small bank of knowledge. Happy to help because the good deed had not yet been clouded by academic or experiential cynicism. Thus, I did not need do anything but observe until the paramedics arrived and the bus driver was happy that the man was in safe hands.
In the second instance of an old man collapsing in front of me, everything was more instant; more grotesque; more demanding of my attention and assistance. I alighted from the bus a few stops early in order to walk through the city as it arose from its semi-dormant state. Had I been on that day of my present mindset, this incident would only have been a momentary spectacle viewed through the rear window of the bus. I suspect this would have made it somehow less real to me. I was two people behind the elderly collapsee and felt his skull bounce against the pavement through the reverberations in my feet.
While this had happened only once before in my experience, these incidents followed each other in day. The silent collapsee was only the previous day, thus it was fresh in my mind and had already been replayed in my mind many times. I instantly called an ambulance while the prone and bleeding man was attended to by another ex passenger. My location was handily placed on the bus stop sign so my mental geography capacities were saved the embarrassment of admitting they could not compute. The ex-passenger tending to the now partially conscious man explained to me that he was a retired but sill voluntary fireman and had plenty of experience in dealing with partly conscious individuals. Again, chance had saved me. It had also gradually given me more experience in an emergency situation. The situation seemed scaled to my ability and I can't help but view these instances as twins; as an existential coincidence. My lack of ability in an emergency situation was highlighted and needs now be addressed, thus a positive spin is automatically put on these men collapsing in front of me. Spit shine your black clouds...
This brings me back to my thoughts in the present, on my warm bus travelling through the city in the rain. We ignore suffering that seems to be excessive, as if it is too much of a caricature to be real; too Hollywood to be happening in the here-and-now. How many people were present to witness those two old men collapse butt refused to help or even acknowledge that help was needed. In the second case there were many more than five who got off at the same stop as I but five is all that remained to ensure he got the proper care deserving of any person, anonymous or not. This wilful ignorance is one thing I cannot help but despise in humans, myself included. However as I have already stated, I believe this type of self-loathing to be absurd. Aside from the contributions from obscure philosophical arguments , this type of ignorance is a part of human nature that can be observed in every city and town in the world, where people believe there is enough moral legroom between them and the incident for them to ignore it and keep walking.
Moral legroom – as if morals are as flexible as legs and must carry you about life in the same manner. It may be provided by physical distance as in the case of third world debt or by perceived social distance as in the case of homeless people who may or may not be homeless through their own doing. In my case, moral legroom was provided in the first instance by the number of people in front of me who were already taking action and was not provided at all in the second. As I approach my stop, an analogy springs to mind. The aggregate heat from passengers has formed a heavy condensation on the windows of the bus which separates us from the bitterly cold weather outside. It also obscures our vision and view of the outside world, just as the concept of moral legroom separates us from responsibilities we do not wish to assume.
Still it rains. Spit shine your black clouds they say: make the most of what you've got. I decide to stay on the bus for as long as I can. I will always have legs to walk, however the warmth of this bus is finite. I must leave it at some point. Spit shine your black clouds indeed.
I was forced to do just that last week when my bourgeois expectations of life, of what is normal were proven to be false. I was confronted by two individual instances of geriatric collapse. In the second instance the man's head bounced off the pavement like a grotesque bowling ball, thud included. The first made no sound. He just slumped against the bus shelter as if he was embarrassed, or lazing. From my own retrospective observations, it was as if this silent collapse was a practice run.
I was inside the well populated bus shelter, at the rear of the long queue whereas the man collapsed at the front. My location allowed me to view the whole incident but gave me enough moral legroom to do nothing aside from spectate. An ambulance was called by someone closer than I, so no action was required. While waiting on the paramedics arriving a number of the queue drifted away and I made my way to the front of the queue. By now, the bus had arrived and in a bizarre scene, people did not know whether to get on the bus or continue waiting in the queue. To get on the bus would entail almost stepping right over the man who had collapsed, which would be rude, at the very least. At the same time, with around twenty people queuing not everybody could hope to be of assistance. People were clearly struggling with the decision but it was made for them when the bus driver cut the engine and left his vehicle in order to check on the man, who must have been a regular passenger as the driver knew him by name.
As I mentioned, I had made my way to the front of the queue, partly from curiosity and partly in order to ascertain if I could be of any assistance. An unexpected potential NHS angel descended upon the man and began relieving him of his tie and collar as well as freeing the woman who he had collapsed upon en route to the pavement, the shock of which had shocked the woman so much that she instantly declared that he had died. Now we had a nursing student who was happy to help and use her small bank of knowledge. Happy to help because the good deed had not yet been clouded by academic or experiential cynicism. Thus, I did not need do anything but observe until the paramedics arrived and the bus driver was happy that the man was in safe hands.
In the second instance of an old man collapsing in front of me, everything was more instant; more grotesque; more demanding of my attention and assistance. I alighted from the bus a few stops early in order to walk through the city as it arose from its semi-dormant state. Had I been on that day of my present mindset, this incident would only have been a momentary spectacle viewed through the rear window of the bus. I suspect this would have made it somehow less real to me. I was two people behind the elderly collapsee and felt his skull bounce against the pavement through the reverberations in my feet.
While this had happened only once before in my experience, these incidents followed each other in day. The silent collapsee was only the previous day, thus it was fresh in my mind and had already been replayed in my mind many times. I instantly called an ambulance while the prone and bleeding man was attended to by another ex passenger. My location was handily placed on the bus stop sign so my mental geography capacities were saved the embarrassment of admitting they could not compute. The ex-passenger tending to the now partially conscious man explained to me that he was a retired but sill voluntary fireman and had plenty of experience in dealing with partly conscious individuals. Again, chance had saved me. It had also gradually given me more experience in an emergency situation. The situation seemed scaled to my ability and I can't help but view these instances as twins; as an existential coincidence. My lack of ability in an emergency situation was highlighted and needs now be addressed, thus a positive spin is automatically put on these men collapsing in front of me. Spit shine your black clouds...
This brings me back to my thoughts in the present, on my warm bus travelling through the city in the rain. We ignore suffering that seems to be excessive, as if it is too much of a caricature to be real; too Hollywood to be happening in the here-and-now. How many people were present to witness those two old men collapse butt refused to help or even acknowledge that help was needed. In the second case there were many more than five who got off at the same stop as I but five is all that remained to ensure he got the proper care deserving of any person, anonymous or not. This wilful ignorance is one thing I cannot help but despise in humans, myself included. However as I have already stated, I believe this type of self-loathing to be absurd. Aside from the contributions from obscure philosophical arguments , this type of ignorance is a part of human nature that can be observed in every city and town in the world, where people believe there is enough moral legroom between them and the incident for them to ignore it and keep walking.
Moral legroom – as if morals are as flexible as legs and must carry you about life in the same manner. It may be provided by physical distance as in the case of third world debt or by perceived social distance as in the case of homeless people who may or may not be homeless through their own doing. In my case, moral legroom was provided in the first instance by the number of people in front of me who were already taking action and was not provided at all in the second. As I approach my stop, an analogy springs to mind. The aggregate heat from passengers has formed a heavy condensation on the windows of the bus which separates us from the bitterly cold weather outside. It also obscures our vision and view of the outside world, just as the concept of moral legroom separates us from responsibilities we do not wish to assume.
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