Beggars, Cans and Canes

I have been meaning for some time to blog about my perceptions on the begging community here in Rome. Coming from Chicago, I am no stranger to seeing homeless people begging in the streets. It is very relevant in my city - as I imagine is the case in any major city, and Rome is certainly no exception. However, the way locals go about it here in Rome is different than I have observed in other places. To note, most of the begging population here is not native Italian - but immigrants from Romania and Albania, among others. Surprisingly, there seems to be an unspoken sort of tolerance by business owners (particularly in restaurants) for letting beggars solicit customers on their premises. Some enter restaurants and station themselves next to the restroom, requesting change from anyone who passes by. On numerous occasions, Roland and I have been in the middle of a meal in a restaurant when approached by someone asking for money. Once, we were eating lunch in an outdoor cafe when a young girl of about 8 years old came up to our table, held out her hands, and stared at us.When we didn't respond after a few moments, she giggled and headed on to the next table. Interestingly enough, about 5 hours later we were eating dinner in another restaurant, on the other side of town. Halfway through our meal the same little girl appeared, with the same approach. I watched her as she left the cafe, and walked out to the middle of the piazza where she met who I assumed was her mother, who directed her into the next cafe. I found this really sad, however also interesting that they were both clean and well dressed, and I never would have guessed them to be homeless. Another technique often used here is the "performance" approach. Most busy piazzas, particularly in tourist-heavy areas, are surrounded by a circle of restaurants and cafes with big outdoor patios that face out at one another. Often times a person or group of people will station themselves in the middle of the piazza and "perform" whatever they can: Some sing, others dance, or play an insturment. After a short while, the person will walk around to all of the cafe tables in the piazza, asking for a "performance fee," and looking very put out if you refuse, despite that you never signed up for their entertainment. Last, and most amusing, are those trying to sell the most ridiculously useless items imaginable. I'm reminded of an evening where we sat outside in a wine bar terrace, having drinks after dinner. We were approached by a shifty looking man with his hands in his pockets, who looked at first glance like he was going to offer us some kind of illegal substance. He paused at our table, looked each of us in the eye, and whispered "You want?" ...I nervously waited as he reached in his pocket...only to produce a small plastic squeaking toy dog with a flashing red nose. After a good laugh and several "No, Grazie...NO, GRAZIE" from Roland, he shoved the toy back into his pocket and persisted..."Ok, ok, how about this? Very nice. Good quality" and whipped a matching toy dog from the other pocket, this time with a blue flashing nose. Finally we sent him on his way, but it was an eventful evening as we were also approached by a man wanting to sell us a miniature pink teddy bear, followed by another offering some slightly wilted, browning roses. Quality.

I've gotten a bit off track here, as my main objective in this post was to tell you about a particular run-in we had with a beggar last week. We had visitors over, and were giving them a tour of some of the sights around the city. I should preface this story by describing what I've always felt are the most harmless and least interfering of beggars in Rome: Ladies who lay on the ground on their knees, with their heads down and faces covered, holding their hands up together, as if in prayer. They usually have small can next to them for money, and never so much as lift their eyes to the passersby. On this particular day, we were walking down a very crowded, narrow sidewalk near the Piazza del Popolo. To our left was a row of storefronts, and to our right a cobbled road with cars parked along the curb. As we passed, I saw that in a small gap between two parked cars, a woman has stationed herself on the ground, bent slightly over the curb in the standard prayer position, with her tuna can positioned next to her hands. I noticed that people were having to step over or around her, as the sidewalk was narrow and the walkway very crowded. Roland and I passed her first, our friends being a bit further back in the throng of people. About two car lengths later I heard a loud Clank of metal on pavement that could only mean one thing: someone had kicked over the old woman's tuna can. Turning around, my suspicions were confirmed on the faces of our friends (lets call them Don and Ken). Ken was bright red and Don looked slightly flustered, to say the least. It had been Don's foot that commited the crime, sending what few contents the tuna can held down into the road. In the rush of people, he hadn't seen where the coins had rolled, so had kept walking, making a quick escape. All was quiet for a few moments as we continued walking, then I heard a commotion behind us and the sound of a woman yelling in a language that was neither English or Italian, but undoubtedly angry. Ignoring the "train wreck" feeling in my stomach of not wanting to see what was happening behind us, I turned around to find the woman had caught up with Don, who was slightly hunched over as he walked, avoiding the blows from the old woman's cane on his back. Whap! Whap! Whap! went the cane as she surely called him every name under the sun in her language, shaking her free fist in anger. Don, being mostly helpless to do anything at all due to his "attacker" being a little old woman, could only speed up into a jog, eventually breaking free. The crazy old woman was left behind, we were left with a good story to tell, and Don, hopefully, escaped without too many bruises. I only wish I had captured this one on film...