Bench Notes

It was a sunny day in early August of 2024 and I knew resistance was futile. The park and canals were calling out to me — and I knew exactly where I wanted to be. There was a pier just ahead of Park Lepelenburg, closer to Zocherpark which had become my favourite spot to bring along a book and my trusty journal.

Even the walk there was delightful, passing by a usually chatty neighbour’s cat who on this day, also had the idea of just basking under the sun lazily.

I reached my spot at around 1PM and my timing was impeccable. There was no one else there so I parked myself at the edge of the pier, right next to the water and I had with me Eckhart Tolle’s ‘A New Earth’. The sun glimmered over the water, beautiful shadows were cast by the trees, people of all ages enjoyed their afternoon strolls, and happy kayakers slowly cruised down the canals. It was perfect.

You could see from everyone’s faces how warm and joyful they felt. People were smiling whilst greeting random strangers as if to say, “It’s beautiful isn’t it? I know exactly why you’re out here too. Enjoy it!”

While I was seated there, passing kayakers would smile and say hello. When I was sometimes too overly engrossed by my book or having that flow state while journaling, I’d completely be oblivious of them and then feel bad that I hadn’t paid them much attention. I then promised myself that I would be the one to smile, wave and greet them first as they kayaked past me. Just a little small, fun game in which I wanted to also contribute to this random act of kindness that was just beautifully oozing out that day.

About an hour into juggling between greeting others and reading my book, a lady with wild, uncombed grey hair parked her bicycle close by and approached me.

“Is it okay if I sit down here to smoke?” she asked.

“By all means! This is a place for everyone, you’re more than welcome to also enjoy this gorgeous day” I told her.

She had a look of relief, almost like a pleasant surprise, perhaps half expecting me to shoo her away and being welcomed instead. So she went and got her “supplies” from her bicycle and plonked down opposite me. She looked at me and asked, “Do you believe in God?”

I wasn’t anticipating such a deep question from the get-go but I’m not one to question things that happen like this. This was another one of those things by design, I thought to myself.

“I do, in fact this book I’m reading right now has something to do with God” I shared.

“What’s the book about?” and I proceeded to explain that, in the context of this book, God is the universal interconnectedness that connects us all, present in every person and living thing.

She then goes on to tell me that she had a tumour when she was young and it was through the power of prayers that she was healed. “Now, I have cancer but no one to pray for me.”

I listened to what she said, feeling for all she’d been through. ‘I’ll pray for you,’ I told her.

“I’m 51 now. I still look alright, ey?” she says, randomly jumping to another topic. “I have 3 to 4 years with this cancer, it’s terminal. I speak okay English, ya?”

“You do! I understand you perfectly” I tell her encouragingly.

“I learnt by watching videos” and then she moves on to another topic abruptly again. “I saw a kid once near Jaarbeursplein, he fell down and his face was bleeding and no one would help. When I tried to help, the police asked me to stand aside and they took me to the station with the kid. Just because of how I am. The kid had to convince them I was trying to help.”

She was explaining to me how because she’s homeless and looks a certain way, people often judge her and her motives.

“My mum died giving birth to me, it was pregnancy poisoning. My dad died two years later in an accident” she tells me when I ask her about her family. She grew up as an orphan, with no immediate family or place to live.

At this stage, I could sense she was getting a little agitated as she spoke about these things. It’s bringing back some dark and painful memories. “Why should I care? I have no one, nothing. So I’ll do my drugs” she says while taking out her pipe and offering me some crack. “I can’t smoke at the park anymore” she says while pointing to Park Lepelenburg.

Ah… so when she said she wanted to smoke, this was what she had in mind. Not a cigarette or a joint like I innocently had assumed. I politely decline her offer. She proceeds to tell me she’s been living on the streets for three days. The guy she was living with had died and she cannot take over the place. She then asks me for some change and I give her some coins.

She takes a deep hit from her crack pipe and… I see her slowly disappearing before me. She started getting fidgety. Her eyes now looked empty. She didn’t say another word, just nodded and grunted. She’s gone. I take this as my cue to leave, wanting to give her space. I bid her goodbye and tell her to take care and stay strong.