As I crossed State Street leaving Palmer House for the Ogilvie station, I saw her. She was clad in black jilbab, a neatly placed hijab on head and a mask.
It was 90 degrees and very humid by Lake Michigan. She was hauling two large, wheeled baskets, loaded with stuff. I noticed a bunch of pens and pencils in one.
“Assalamu Alaikum.”
“Wa Alaikum Assalam”
“What are you doing, sister?”
“I am just taking some time off. Will go back to studying.”
She was young. She kept repeating herself, “Will go back to studying.”
I gave her $20 and kept walking to the Ogilvie station.
I did not ask her if there is anything I can do for her.
I did not ask her name.
I did not ask if she is connected with any masjid.
I am smart. I cannot take the burden of others. She will find her way to some homeless shelter. There is a system in place to deal with homeless people. Right?
Feeling guilty I started praying. Ya Allah, Ya Razzaq, Ya Malikal Mulk. Take care of this sister. You know what is best for her. A little tear struggled a bit before it stopped.
I felt like going back to her. Ask her a few more questions. Perhaps I can invite her to our home. Maybe I should take her to the Sound Vision office and get her some funds. But I did nothing. I crossed Madison Street, turning west, leaving her far behind. Alone. Dragging stuff. In 90-degree heat with a full hijab.
My helplessness turned into anger. It’s always easy to blame someone else.
Thought of all those people who brought Trump into power. Before I left my office earlier, I was reading in the Muslim News that President Trump signed a bill giving one trillion dollars to the rich while cutting $931 billion from Medicaid. And a cut of $186 billion in food aid. What a gift on the eve of July 4th.
America has about 770,000 homeless people. US Department of Housing and Urban Development estimates that $20 billion would be needed to end homelessness in the United States. That is peanuts for America.
The richest country in the world cannot take care of its homeless and the needy.
I often see the same homeless people in Downtown Chicago. Some initially drag good suitcases with them which I eventually see falling apart. Perhaps I will see her again. Perhaps I will have more courage to help. Hopefully she will survive the streets.
Maybe she will become like Aysha, Chicago’s mother of the homeless. Who herself became homeless and later became a lawyer.
May Allah make me a better person, a better neighbor, and a better citizen. May I help change America for the better.
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