When I knock to the door of my former school, an old nun greeted me and began to talk with me very excited, remembering our past times when I was a kid, and she was my teacher.
I was there as a journalist to cover a religion teacher’s convention that was going on precisely there.
While we were talking with the door open a young girl, sneaked in and pushed the old nun yelling:
-Give me money
I grabbed the girl by her shoulder and told her:
-She has no money, get out of here.
She began to yell blasphemies. The school’s chapel was next door. I pushed the girl out to the street, and the nun closed the door behind us.
I found myself alone with a very unstable junkie in the street. I was hoping that the nun would go to bring help, but she stayed at the door looking through the peephole.
The junkie wanted money at all costs. She said she was hungry, had AIDS, and threatened me with big scissors stained with blood. She sweated profusely and trembled. She was probably in the middle of an abstinence syndrome.
-I’ll stab you. – she told me- I’ll kill you or you’ll get infected, which is the same. Give me the money!
I have no money
Why don’t you put away the scissors so we can talk like civilized people?
I began to get scared. I told the junkie to try to go to the nearby parish where they had help for drug addicts. And she suddenly began to cry.
Everybody hates me. People avoid me like I was a leper. What I’m gonna do? You sure hate me also.
No, I don’t
Would you hug me?
I hugged her (despite she still had the scissors in her hand), and she calmed down.
Thanks, she said. Then, she turned around and went away running.
She wanted money to buy drugs, and instead, she got a hug. But somehow, it was a valid answer at that moment of crisis for her. Lucky for me!