Grappling with a Minor Incident but a Major Issue

 

Toronto Star, Ontario ed.
RELIGION 
Thursday, February 17, 1994


I am in a bit of a dilemma.

Yesterday, as I rode home on the subway, a gentleman, sitting across the aisle from me, was eating his dinner. He sat with his legs crossed on the seat in front of him, which is fine because that seat was vacant. The gentleman first ate a packet of cookies, then threw the empty box on the floor beside him - by chance I thought. Then he ate a banana and casually dropped the peel on the floor - no mistake.

I expressed my displeasure at these acts of littering by pointedly staring at him and frowning. No reaction. He opened his knapsack and took out a wad of tissues. After blowing his nose loudly and unceremoniously, he crumpled up the tissues and added them to the items on the floor. There were other commuters in the subway car, but no one said anything.

Usually, I am too tired to do anything but doze on my ride home from work. However, this man's behavior disgusted me, and churned up so much anger in me, that I fumed all the way.

The reason I did not say anything to him is because on other occasions, I've had very rude reactions to my well-intentioned criticism. Recently, I stopped a lady who had put a soiled diaper under the seat. She answered me with a string of epithets. I don't learn easily and consider myself a bit of a reformer but I'm changing fast. This time, therefore, I took no action and obediently disembarked at my subway stop leaving the litterbug on the train.

My conscience has pricked me ever since.

Should I have said something, done something, as a caring citizen? It was a minor incident, but one that reflects our apathy in a major way. The banana peel could have caused an accident, and I would have been partly responsible for not acting on my instinct to say something. After all, we do pay our taxes for a clean, healthy environment and a clean transit system.

I came home and poured out the story to my husband in an effort to ease my guilt. He feels that it was okay not to have said anything because the man on the TTC could have been rude to me and told me it is none of my business.

But it is my business because I am a caring Canadian. Anything that creates harm on public property should be all of our business.

I note that, generally, Canadians are peace-loving and non-interfering. They follow the live-and-let-live principle. Very sensible. However, the scales can sometimes tip too much in the other direction, creating a non-caring and unfeeling environment.

Where does one draw the line? Crime is on the increase here, and we are slowly losing our Toronto the Good image. I wonder if it is because of our apathetic, wishy-washy and unthinking acceptance of everything around us? I feel that I, too, have helped compound this attitude by not speaking up for something I felt was ethically wrong.

I come from Pakistan, a country where we are guilty of too much interference. A small accident on the street can collect a crowd of people in seconds. A bereaved neighbor will have no time to mourn because of the flood of sympathetic visitors. In times of stress, we never want in terms of warm bodies, warm food and well-wishers. Sometimes it becomes overwhelming, but there is always the security of knowing that someone shares our problems and sorrow.

I fear that if I ever have an accident in Toronto, my family will not know until two days later - not because people don't care but because they do not like to interfere in other people's affairs and have very little time.

It bothers me that I am becoming self-centred. My natural reaction used to be to talk to people, guide and help them. But I have become cautious and cold.

There was an old woman who used to sit on the steps at St. George subway with an outstretched hand. I saw her almost every day and felt very badly for her. I consoled myself that there are organizations that can help, and someone will eventually contact them. So I did nothing. In time, I changed my route and never saw her again. I feel guilty that I did not take the time to ask who she was and where she came from.

So I am left standing on the precipice: Should I follow my instincts, and at the risk of being snubbed, speak up when I see a wrong being done? Or should I continue to live my life wrapped in a cloak of self-centred oblivion?

My dilemma continues . . 

 

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