A Moment of Gratitude

A few weeks ago, I ran into an American friend on the train. I greeted her in English, but since she was with one of her German friends, we continued the conversation in German.

A few stops later, my friend exits the train. I continue speaking to her friend, but I hear someone faintly repeating "excuse me," as we chat. I finally realize it's the man next to me trying to get my attention. I make eye contact with him.

"English?" He asks.
"Yes, of course," I reply.

He looks, to be honest, a little worse for wear. Tattered clothes, unkempt nails, and skin smudged with dirt. English was clearly not his first language, and he didn't speak German.

He smiles and shows me his phone. He's on an online German job board.

"I'm looking for a job," he says in somewhat broken English, "but I don't know what this says. Can you help?"
"Sure," I reply, not at all sure if I can. "What kind of job?"

He pauses for a moment, searching for the words he needs.

"Manual labor... Or factory."

We go through the German job postings together, me translating qualifications and showing him where he can find phone numbers and addresses. Together we figure out the basic layout of the postings so he can find what he needs himself in the future. After a while, he thanks me, smiles again, and we go about our respective days.

• • •

I won't lie, I felt good after this encounter. It was nice to have helped someone who needed it, and that my bilingual abilities were part of it.

It wasn't until a few days ago that I thought back on the whole thing and looked a little deeper into the whole situation. This man had to ask a complete stranger for help. Not that that's entirely unusual, but it struck me nonetheless. He heard me speak English for all of one minute and yet still saw his chance to get some help finding a job.

Does that mean he's got nobody else helping him? No German, some English, and he's trying to find a job here? Alone? Does he have a family to support? Could he be a refugee, navigating a foreign culture, language, and job market with no support?

I pondered his situation, then reflected on mine. I've got--to put it lightly--buckets of support. I've got family, friends, and a network of people back home with whom I can communicate effortlessly whenever I want. I've got friends in Germany, professors and advisors at my University here, a tutor, and an entire, government-run fellowship at my back, helping put wind in my sails when I need it. I've even got friends of friends offering their support.

What did I do to deserve all this? Where's the help for the man on the train, clearly more tenacious than I'll ever be, trying to find some straightforward, blue-collar work? Where do I get off, thinking my life is hard?

Difficulty is relative, I know. But sometimes it's hard to ignore the fact that someone else lives a much less privileged existence, and this was one of those times for me. I chastised, and still am chastising, myself for losing sight of just how lucky I am. I forgot how fortunate I am just for being born in an English-speaking country, for having a family that cares about me, for having the means to participate in PPP, for having access to a quality education that taught me German, for everything. I forgot how lucky I am to have any help at all.

Maybe that man on train does have help and just saw an opportunity to talk to someone else. Maybe he's got everything figured out by now. I don't know, and it doesn't matter at this point--I hope he's doing well regardless, and in no small part because he reminded me that I am nothing but a sum of my parts and that those parts are all just the result of help from caring people in my life.

Thanks to all of you.