An elderly widow uses my brief visit as an excuse to talk. She
already has the money in its envelope. It’s only a matter of taking it down
from its place on the kitchen mantelpiece near the teapot. That’s where all
the envelopes go as they arrive in her letterbox.
She hasn’t seen anyone much all day, and the grounds are
getting beyond her, and she’ll probably have to go into one of those awful
ownership flats – what will she do with all the furniture?
One woman in her 50s opens the door and says, with an air of
mystery: ‘I know you. You do something with your hands,’ she says. ‘I
play the piano,’ I answer. ‘Ah! You teach the organ – one of those home
organs – I can see you playing.’ ‘No, I don’t.’ It becomes difficult to
get away. I move down the path. She follows.
Out of politeness, I say, ‘Perhaps I’ve seen you at your
work. Where would that be?’ She becomes more mysterious still. ‘Here and there
and everywhere..! Sometimes at the hospital. Have you been sick in the
hospital?’ I haven’t, and I think I’m relieved.
Where houses have children they pour out on to the step with
their evening meal still in their hands. In many places my visit is taken as an
excuse to get out of bed. ‘Who is it, Daddy?’ ‘No one. Go back to bed!’
Cats complain they’ve had no attention all day. Dogs climb
over me, threatening to eat me alive while their master or mistress vainly
orders them to come inside.
For the most part I find people are ungrudgingly generous. It’s
part of our cultural heritage to ‘give at the door.’ Once people know who I am,
it’s rare to get a refusal. ‘I might need your help one day meself!’
Those who do refuse seem slightly embarrassed, as though it
goes against some instinct. Unfortunately these are often the people who live
in a house up a hill at the end of a long steep drive.
One man throws all his loose change into the bag, and goes
to shut the door. Then he calls out, ‘Wait!’ He hurries inside again and brings
back a jar full of coins. The whole lot is poured in. Suddenly the bag
is very heavy.
Another man drops in a $100 note.
At one Kampuchean residence, the mother comes to the door. Great
gales of laughter and foreign words. She runs from one room to another. I’m not
sure if she’s understood what I’m there for yet. She is, it turns out, trying
to find some money.
Three or four dark-haired children appear. Bigger sisters
come out of the bedroom marked ‘Knock!’ and retreat again. Grandmother comes to
give her opinion, and at long last the mother appears with her donation. ‘Sorry,
no envelope!’ More laughter. Much discussion in Kampuchean.
I go to another Cambodian house. This area has become Refugee
Street. A tough little 6-year-old comes to the door and asks, with an ordinary
everyday Kiwi accent: ‘Whaddya want?’ I try to explain that I am collecting for
the Salvation Army. It appears to mean nothing.
‘Is your Mum home?’ I ask. ‘I dunno.’ He vanishes. His big
sister appears and does nothing but smile. Her bigger brother comes round the
corner – puzzled. ‘Whaddya want?’ he echoes.
Finally their mother strolls up the path carrying the shopping. She doesn’t speak much English. The bigger brother asks me for a third time what I want and translates it into Kampuchean – with actions to match. The Sally Army becomes some group that puts people in wheelchairs. His mother understands enough: ‘Fifty cents okay?’
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| Salvation Army band members 'busking' for donations courtesy Gerald England |
This is a truly historic piece. No one collects at the door these days, nor are they expected to. In fact collectors would probably be unsafe, and would need to go in twos – that’s if anyone could be encouraged to do the job. The idea that you could turn up at the door and be greeted in a friendly way seems gone for good.
Collectors will occasionally turn up on street corners,
but are more likely found outside – or inside – supermarkets and other large
stores. Few people carry actual cash, but some will get extra change while in
the shop and put it in your bucket on the way out. Many will ignore you
altogether. Volunteers to do the collecting have become harder to find.
Most donations are now paid online, and it requires
full-page ads in newspapers, or emails, or cold-call telephoning or advertising
online to remind those donating. All of which must take a large chunk out of
whatever is donated.
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