newline To this effect, questionnaire schedule, participant observation, individual interviews and in depth case studies have been composed in an effort to present moving and intimate views of the poor in relation to their past and present in the framework of the dynamics of the socio- economic history of the country at large.
This was done amid the complexity of the beggary problem and the diverse nature of the life experiences of each individual beggar considered in the study.
A lady came up to our car and with a smile on her face, softly said, "Please!
Would you mind giving us some money so that we could have enough food for the animals in our zoo? Don't joke like that"ÃÂ¦please." I was really embarrassed and mad.
Immediately, at the first glance, anyone could recognize he was a poor beggar. Especially, while he was sitting, his back was bent like a thin C.
His long, disheveled and tangled hair was full of dust. They did that because they thought he would taint their homes. I wondered why he didn't move to another town that might have a better life for him, or maybe he wasn't welcomed anywhere he went.
He stared at his empty, small, ragged bag, empty except for a few cents. Silently, his eyes closed as if he accepted his poor destiny. Time after time, he still sat there, desiring only some very small present from warm, kind-hearted persons. As a 17 year-old girl, I was very lucky and happy to live in my beloved parents' warm fostering.
And again, he stooped lower, his two hands tightening even more. I couldn't imagine how I would act if everybody treated me with such a frigid attitude. Suddenly, tears were in my eyes, and also in my heart. He won't hurt you." I felt some coins and paper money my mom gave me as a present for the New Year jingling and mixed together in my pocket.
His body shivered in the cool spring breeze."Hey, Vy, where are you going? As I crossed the small rough street, my heart beat faster and faster. I put all of them into his bag and immediately rushed home, swift as an arrow. Suddenly, he turned up his eyes and it seemed that he tried to say to me warmly with a confident smile as if he had just found a good friend for himself, "God bless you, my child." I was smiling again and said softly, "You are welcome." " Vy"ÃÂ¦Vy"ÃÂ¦ What are you thinking about? The car was still running, and my mind was still picturing Beggar. Looking at the beggar before I had gone with my friends for the festival in the downtown, I had realized that his eyes were glistening with firm confidence. Both of us, Beggar and I, had the same thought: in this world, not everyone is a callous person.
I couldn't exactly explain the strange feeling coming through my body; I was smiling all the way home."Good job, girl," Tom said. " My boyfriend beat softly at my shoulder."Huh"ÃÂ¦nothing. Although that money couldn't bring to Beggar a comfortable life forever, I thought, at least, he wouldn't be hungry and didn't need to think much about the meals for that evening and some of the next cold days. English: The Beggar, by Pjetër Marubi (Piacenza, 1834 - Shkodra, 1903).