Less A Home

© 2011, Haneen Al-Eisawi.
Haneen is Imam Afroz's 12 year old daughter, who has a tremendously compassionate side. She wrote this piece as part of her school assignment, based on her exposure to homelessness through Al-Ghazzali Centre’s Ansaar Project.


The feeling of being alone; the tears that run down my cheeks- does anyone care? The silence to my question fills my head. All I have is my cardboard box and the clothes on my back. I sit in the alleyway as I watch mice and leaves scatter across the rough, dirty concrete. I walk on the streets where eyes watch and peer out of the nice cars they drive. They look away and turn their cheeks, and get along with their day just like every other whilst I look in the trash to find my day’s nourishment.

They sit and stare and laugh the day away. Do they care? Do they feel? Don’t they see what’s going around them? If they only knew how it feels to be alone or lose everything they have or be left cold outside. But the warmth of the sun keeps me company during the day in the city as I sit underneath my cardboard box; I am beginning to think it is my only friend and the only thing that cares about me. I put my dirty and rusty hat out on the pathway in front of me waiting for someone with warmth in their heart to give a little of their own to the less fortunate. I wait but all I see are feet walking past . All I hear are the screaming and violence in my head. The flashbacks of the screaming; the scream of pain I longed for people to hear. When no one cared to listened is when I needed people to listen most. The violence that went by, the feelings I never shared: why didn’t I scream it out for everyone to hear and awaken their heedless souls. If only I got one more chance to do things differently. If only the people sat and heard my story and actually listened. I would shout it out for the whole world to hear; I would write it in the sky with clouds.

I long for the feeling to shine for once, as myself, and not to be alone, and feel a part of something meaningful. I stand up on my two feet, rising, growing in self -confidence. Everyone stares as I shout and shout, “I had a family once too, I’m just like all of you; I am the same as you. I lost all my loved ones. Do you know how it feels lose them? But do you care? Anyone?” I gasp for breath and try to keep still on my two feet. I close my eyes hard as tears bathe them. Then, I open them and the crowd stares back at me with their bead-like eyes.

What I saw next was shocking and made me feel like the most special person alive. I bear witness to it till this day. Of all people, a child came forth in front of me, getting on to his knees and placing a 50 cent coin into my dirty, rusty hat. After a long while, my face broke into a smile. The child’s generosity shined like the coin in my hat.

In the world there are well over 100 million people who are homeless. They are lost and don’t know what to do with their lives. Some of them don’t have the courage to stand up for themselves. They need support and they need people to care. Be one of those people- help and give donations to help people less fortunate than yourselves even if it is as little as fifty cents. You never know how much as little as fifty cents can help a person in need. Even a smile helps even if one is less a home.