It’s difficult to admit but let’s face it we all do it — we walk past beggars on the street as if they don’t exist. It’s as if we’re too embarrassed to confront them. The same goes for people with disabilities. Some find it a challenge to engage with them, worried they might say the wrong thing, react in the wrong way or cause unnecessary upset.
Most of us are lucky to live a charmed life where we can avoid situations like these. But I’ve just spent a week confronting them on an almost constant basis. And, unquestionably, it has changed my life and made me a better person.
Doing something for charity, I discovered, is not simply about raising awareness and money — it’s about what it does to one’s personality.
I was on an international Norwood bike ride in Central America and, on the first morning, in the middle of Nicaragua, I noticed a man lying motionless by the side of the road. He looked like he had been hit by a passing vehicle as he was sprawled across the edge of the rocky dirt road. The other 60 cyclists in the group had zoomed past but I stopped to check if he was still alive.
He was breathing and so I offered him some water which he declined with an aggressive thrust of his arm. A handful of locals were now surrounding us as he tried to go back to his dark sleep that let him escape from his pain of being awake. They suggested he was a drunk and gave hand signals to suggest that he was crazy. One of our group suggested we move on, but I felt compelled to help him. I knew that if I was in his situation I’d appreciate the attempt.
Eventually, we got him on his feet, gave him water and snacks for which he was grateful. Without much else to do, we parted ways. I cycled on while wondering if there was any more I could have done.
That was the moment I realised I’d changed, that the challenge had opened my eyes. The reason for going was to raise money for Norwood, which helps children and adults with learning difficulties, some of whom were on the trip with us. Sitting on the back of a tandem, they complete the journey with the help of a strong front rider.
They get to experience an exotic country, as well as complete a testing challenge which leaves them with an indelible smile at the end of the week — as it does for all of us.
A journey like this changes you. It’s not just about giving back, it’s about finding out who you are.
That’s why I stopped for the man on the side of the road. I would never have done that at home because, well, we assume someone will look after them. Knowing there are charitable institutions allows us to just get on with our lives. But in the middle of nowhere, you understand the importance of being the person who doesn’t walk on by. Later in the week, I rode on the front of a tandem, joining Nick Ivil who has Downs Syndrome. The cycling was brilliant marred only by the fact that I lost my expensive sunglasses.
I spent hours looking for them, slowly getting angrier. The next morning, Nick casually wandered over with them in his hand. He’d packed them into his own bag by mistake. He apologised but had no concept of my frustrations. Back home, I might well have lost my temper. Here, with Nick, I realised what a fool I’d been for prioritising material goods over friendship. We forget sometimes what matters most, people not things, and the way we express emotions should reflect that, especially with those less fortunate than ourselves.
On the final day, Nick and I fought exhaustion to climb a steep hill, collapsing at the top. Nick eventually stood up to be hugged by the rest. Suddenly, after a week-long smile, he was overcome with emotion and broke into tears. Not only had he achieved something that was, for him, remarkable but he had made friends with people who, under normal circumstances, would probably never have spent so much quality time with him.
Once home, I was the one overcome with emotion. I had changed, Nick had changed me and so had Nicaragua. We forget sometimes both how fortunate our lives are and how absorbed we are in the sometimes meaningless minutiae of our lives. Trips like the one I’ve just come back from are a valuable a reminder of just how lucky we are — and how much we can give others.
For more information, go to http://norwood.org.uk/
