Threepenny Carrion Crows

The waves of dried mud have darkened her tiny hands. Her fingernails are full of dirt. They are pitch black. She is holding on to the metal pole of the billboard at the bus stop. Only her tiny hands are visible. She suddenly appears from behind the billboard. She is so cute and so smiley. She has three tissue bags in her hand. She is trying to sell them to the people waiting at the stop.

Our eyes meet. Where did he come from, where does he live, where is his family, does he know what he's going to eat for dinner, where and under what conditions does he sleep? I think of the answer, the questions that make my heart ache, in a few seconds.

He approaches me. He cannot speak. I understand that he is Syrian. I take out some money and give it to him. He tries to give me three tissue bags at once. My heart gets worse. I have to take the tissues to make him think that a little child should not accept money for nothing, but my heart aches at the same time as I take the tissues. On the other hand, I get very angry.

Insatiable, disgusting, money-driven human garbage comes to mind for a moment. The Syrian child in front of me, who felt the need to hand me three tissue bags for the 3-5 cents I gave him.

Damn those who reduced this child to this state. My anger must have reflected on my face because the girl's gaze becomes serious as I hand her the tissue bags. I change my expression immediately. Because she needs a smiling gaze. I remind myself at that moment that I don't even have the luxury of looking at this girl, who I think is tired of seeing the ugly faces of life at a young age, seriously because I am angry at the carrion crows.

But I insistently take a bag and leave the entire amount for her. Feelings that 3 cent tissue bags cannot give millions of dollars. On the one hand, I wonder if I might have taught her something morally wrong by giving her money that she thinks she doesn't deserve. Then, I argue with myself about whether this is moral depravity.

The Syrian child is just one of the millions I have come across. He will make choices at the crossroads of life. Maybe he will never make a choice. He will live a life he is forced to, whether he wants to or not. Maybe he would die when a bomb fell on him one night. Maybe he is just having the chance to continue his life now. Maybe he will be a good person, maybe a bad person one day. I wonder if the honesty of 3 cents worth 3 bags will continue in his conscience for the rest of his life?

The carrion crows do not feel sorry or pitiful for the misery of others, of little children. The misery of others is the guarantee of their own glory. Even if those others experience and feel death.

I wince at the calculation of how much the dollar is after every death. "... the number of deaths in the attack increased to ... and the dollar reached ...". This is the price humanity has set for what comes after death. There is a price for what comes after death.

The world that saved the failing banks in a few months does not care as much about the world that a 3 cent purchase has opened up as the price of oil. Is it the person himself, the order, or both that is wrong?

Sometimes they tell me I'm pessimistic. I say, "Show me something that will be good, I'm ready for optimism." Also, is optimistic-pessimistic feelings needed to see what's happening around us, analyze it and reach a conclusion? We only have what we infer from what we see, experience and read.

Human beings should not reproduce anymore. There are millions of Syrian girls from every race, language, religion. The problem is already in race, language, religion. People have no tolerance for differences. If the Syrian child at the helm of the carrion crows was a Jew or a Christian, could he even wander around Turkey for 3 cents? I am not sure anymore. Not at all. And this hurts me a lot.