The news lately has brought back a number of memories of various “foreigners” that I’ve had dealings with over the years. Some I’ve been able to help and others, for one reason or another, I couldn’t. One incident I’ll never forget happened in the early 70’s — I remember it like it was yesterday…..
It was a rainy night — I was to meet someone at a particular restaurant. When I arrived, I stood across the street and looked at the restaurant — I could see a few heads in the window, eating and drinking and it looked a bit smoky because most everyone smoked back then. I waited because the person I was meeting didn’t appear to be inside. But then a small Asian man wearing a cheap windbreaker came walking down the street from the direction of the bus stop and went into the restaurant. I waited for about five minutes — a few people came by, but it looked clear. There didn’t appear to be any surveillance so I crossed the street and went into the restaurant.
He was at a table by the back wall, still wearing his wet jacket. He smiled when he saw me — he was smoking, but hadn’t ordered a drink… probably because he couldn’t afford it. We shook hands and talked about the weather and family. His wife and children were fine, but he didn’t have heat or air conditioning or running water in his two room “house.” I asked if he wanted coffee — he asked for tea. We sipped our drinks and smiled at each other.
I pointed to the menu and motioned for a bored-looking waiter. But he said the food could wait — he had to know the answer… it was important to him. Had we found him a job — a job that would give him what his alien status couldn’t. A chance to earn a salary, to be the breadwinner in his family and to earn his neighbors respect. A steady job was all he wanted in return for his help with our mission. Just paying him wasn’t the same thing — didn’t I understand that? I did, but I couldn’t tell him the truth — that my management thought he was of poor moral character.
My superiors agreed that, of course, we had an obligation to “defectors” but we had done more than enough for him years ago, even though he still had certain potential. No — all I could say was I couldn’t help him with a job. We stared at one another for what seemed like forever. Thank you, he said and carefully put out his cigarette. He pushed his tea cup away, stood up and wished me a good evening. He went out the restaurant door without looking back — out into the rain.
I sat and finished my coffee. The waiter came over and asked me if I’d like to order now. I just asked for the check, pointing to the drinks. Then I walked out — into the rain.
— 30 —