Mindfulness

Making the Most of My Interactions With Strangers

My weekly shopping trip is not just about the groceries

It’s about the opportunity to make someone smile.

I could settle into the mindset of how can this little old lady bring about a better world in the midst of the pandemic, politics and poverty.

Yes, I donate each month to Gift of the Givers, the largest disaster response NGO on the African continent. I trust they are corruption-free and know they spend the money they receive on helping humanity. (Not helping themselves as our politicians do.)

Here is an excerpt of the acknowledgement they send when I make payment:

“You are one of those fortunate few selected to distribute His Mercy through your selfless act of giving unconditionally. Gift of the Givers is proud to be associated with you as it brings us closer to the Almighty by delivering your contribution to those in untold misery.”

Yet I often suffer frustration that I can’t feed every hungry man, woman and child in the world. Does that make my offering any less valuable?

“If you cannot feed a hundred people, feed one.”- Mother Teresa.

If that’s the best I can do, she reassures me not to lament I can’t eradicate all hunger.

If affordable, I buy something extra to put in the donation trolley on my weekly outing for groceries. No junk food or items that need refrigeration! I choose nutritious fare such as tinned tuna or oatmeal.

What joy pours through my heart when I imagine a child’s face lighting up as they take their first spoonful of hot porridge on an icy winter morning. That appeals to me more than the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears!

Because I live in a remote area with only my husband for company, I make the most of my visit to the village by interacting with people I’ve never met and may never encounter again.

What makes life so special is that I’m not always the giver of smiles or acts of kindness, but the recipient.

“When you demand nothing of the world, nor of God, when you want nothing, seek nothing, expect nothing, then the supreme state will come to you uninvited and unexpected.” Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj.

I adopted that philosophy in my 60's and it’s working — most of the time!

I record those events in my journal. They counterbalance the daily discourse on what’s wrong in the world — not that we should ignore that — and help remind me how powerful love and human connection are in staying the course.

Here are July’s magic moments.

The Rasta Lady

Ahead of me at the cashier counter in the pharmacy is a gorgeous Rastafarian woman. Hair tied and tucked into a bright red scarf atop her head and a long white home-sewn dress appliqued with flowers and marijuana leaves.

Because of social distancing and her concentrating on paying for her purchases, I can’t shout out to her to tell her how stunning she looks. I want to be more discreet.

As I move forward to pay, I hope I can exit the pharmacy fast enough to catch up with her. I finish and rush outside to scan the parking lot- no sign of her. Disappointed, I head for the supermarket.

Next minute I hear loud reggae music!

I stop, turn and hurry towards the source of the sound. There she is, starting up the car’s engine, ready to reverse. Her passenger window is open — I keep my distance but sway and dance to the beats, oblivious to what others may think of this grey-haired old lady in mask and spectacles making a spectacle of herself!

She turns to look and I step closer so she can hear me tell her how beautiful she and her dress are. She’s removed her mask in the car and I see her smile and catch the sound of her laughter.

We wave and blow kisses. I’m grinning!

The Shelf Packer

We don’t have our own wheels, so our neighbor lets us use his car, provided I do his shopping too.

Today’s list includes heavy items which I find difficult to lift into the trolley with my arthritic hands — dog food and a six-pack of long-life milk. Both hang out in the same aisle, so I ask a shelf-packer to do the heavy lifting.

I explain to him I need his help because of my hands. He shows me his, with early signs of arthritis. I share hand exercises I do, tell him what supplements to buy from the chemist and foods to avoid.

When I mention I can’t play guitar any more, Godfrey (on first-name terms now) asks if Mama Caz (that’s me) could tutor him. I explain I no longer own a guitar but will make a copy of my chord charts for him to teach himself.

The following week I give them to him. The look of joy and gratitude in his eyes (we’re wearing our masks so cannot witness each other’s smiles) is indescribable.

I’m awed that my action has generated such excitement in a 40-year-old African man!

The Ice Pack

This item is on my monthly shopping list — what we call the Big Shop, where we travel further to a town overlooking Hartbeespoort Dam.

(Hubby and I both have body bits that sometimes ache and ice often works better than heat.)

As I have other items to buy from the dispensary, I ask the pharmacist if they stock ice packs as I’d checked the aisles and had seen none.

She says they should be at the front of the shop, then pauses and tells me she may have something suitable. She disappears into the backroom and returns with one.

“How much is it?” I inquire.

“It’s my own — you can have it.”

I don’t know why, but continue, “You wouldn’t by chance have another one?”

Without a word, she vanishes like a genie and conjures up a second pack!

“God Bless you!” I say.

The Beggarwoman

On the journey into town that same day, we had been stationery at the red traffic lights which guard the entrance to the single-lane road that runs atop the dam wall; it then becomes a tunnel that cuts through the mountain before becoming a two-way thoroughfare again.

A white woman, in her forties, approaches us. She looks troubled and without hesitation I pull out my purse and give her a fifty-Rand note. Her face lights up brighter than the sun. As she walks away, there’s a brightness in her gait — she’s glowing.

I have a lump in my throat recalling three years before when we were nearly homeless and how desperate that felt.

“There but for the grace of God,” I reflect, remembering those dark times.

On our way home, there she is at the same spot and smiles and waves when she sees us. Now tears of joy well up that my action had lifted her spirits.

Whatever our own troubles, we can always do something to help lift others — no matter how small.

That’s why I no longer regard shopping for essentials as a chore, but an opportunity to make someone smile!

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, you may want to read this too: