HAVE YOU LISTENED TO SOMEONE RECENTLY?

What does the act of voluntary work alleviate?  In the first instance, isolation, loneliness and – perhaps to some extent – fear.  In the second instance, it can bring comfort and hope.  But to me personally, of prime importance is just being there for someone in need and to listen to them – an act that relatively few people see the need to do today. The modern world is based on the visual coupled with the silent communication of the keyboard or keypad.  Little help to someone who may desperately need the reassurance of a human being’s voice and their presence.

Early examples:  learning and understanding of the words “need” and “listen”

I grew up in well-to-do surroundings in Southern Ireland and for the most part, and being an only and rather isolated child, saw little of the awful poverty that actually lay at our doorstep in the immediate post-war era.  The one- or two-roomed cottages on the estate – no running water and certainly no sanitary facilities, the former having to be collected from the communal pump on the village green and the latter being in a makeshift hut “at the bottom of the garden”.  The large Catholic families where the children “tumbled up”, no shoes on their feet, not enough food to go around, ragged clothes and a sparse education at the one-roomed school probably 3 or 4 miles away and only reachable on foot summer and winter, rain or shine.  And sickness – TB was rampant in Ireland at the time – with little, if any, qualified medical attention.

But in their own Victorian way, my grandparents tried to help these people as best they could.  “There is always someone worse off than you are – and you should try to help wherever you can”.  Giving was definitely better than receiving, especially when you had the means to give.  My grandparents went to the cottages with food, clothing and medicines for the poor and listened to the people’s troubles.  And it was all done as a matter of course.

Then the move to war-torn England.  On the boat crossing, an elderly woman crouched on the steerage deck moaning; my grandmother asking what the matter was and the reply that she was trying to get to England where her son lay dying – she hoped she’d make it in time.  My grandmother immediately turning to me saying, “What can we give her or do for her.  Haven’t we got something for her to eat – a banana or anything like that?”  We had nothing to give except the act of human concern, the showing of sympathy and listening to the woman’s woes.  But at least that was something.

As I grew up, voluntary work through the Red Cross, bringing a meal to a sick neighbour, taking care of next door’s dog when it’s owner went to hospital, mowing the grass for an older person, learning to respect the limitations of the elderly – this was just part of life.

The foolishness of prejudice

In adolescence and on my frequent return visits to Ireland, I felt even more keenly the division between Catholics and Protestants since my parents had drilled it into me that “one must learn about, and accept, all religions – but you don’t necessarily have to practice them.  The learning about, and the acceptance of, are what matters”.

Vienna – city of my dreams

When I moved to Vienna in 1970, voluntary work was one of the first things I looked for.  It was a good way to learn German and a good way to meet the natives!  Through the Evangelische Kirche, I met Silvia – crippled since her 22^nd year with a mixture of gout and arthritis and having had no medical treatment of any consequence due to the lack of facilities in the Berlin of WWII and now aged about 58, confined to a wheelchair in a Viennese flat on the first floor without a lift, reliant on the goodwill of her neighbours for her every need.  I helped her for about 12 years in all – giving her bed-baths, washing her hair, doing some shopping but also just being there and listening and talking.  Here was someone whose plight was not that of her own making and whose loneliness stretched out its hand to be taken and held. I learnt a lot about patience and tolerance from Silvia.

Then came working for the “Befrienders“, the Austrian branch of the British “Samaritans” which had been founded by Chad Varah in 1953.  “Mansion House 1000″ – that most famous of London telephone numbers for people to ring and to know that at the end of the line, there was a listener into whose friendly ear the caller’s troubles could be poured and knowing that they would be listened to without prejudice, censorship or antagonism.  And above all, a listener to help those who felt suicidal.

When Maureen Agu (now, sadly, deceased) established the Befrienders here in Vienna in the 1970′s, she worked tirelessly to ensure its smooth running.  Volunteer “listeners” (the title taken from Monica Dickens’ book “The Listeners“) were from every part of Vienna’s English-speaking and UN community – and we listened to many a story of suicidal thoughts, loneliness and desperation caused by people being cut off from their home countries, friends and way of life, the isolation that arises when you are unable to speak a foreign language adequately or comprehend a new culture, the incomprehension and loneliness of (in those days) not being accepted because one was coloured, of turning to petty thievery in a shop just simply to draw attention to oneself and have contact with another person, of not knowing how to cope with Austrian legalities when divorce came around, and…… and…… and …….

Beginning with the 1980′s, and over the next 28 years working in the American International School in Vienna, my “voluntary work” often consisted of just listening to the woes of parents and (more often!) teachers.  As I was extremely busy in my everyday job, I did not do voluntary work for any organization.  However, in 1990, I did befriend Christine who has a very rare genetic illness affecting her hands and feet – she has already lost one leg and is virtually unable to use her hands, she is more in hospital than out of it and her world – somewhat naturally – is dominated by isolation and her sickness to a greater or lesser degree.  I do what I can when I can – but it’s not enough, I know. She is truly a person from whom one can learn the meaning of grace.  She is usually optimistic and always enquires about the other person, but there are days and nights when she needs an ear at the end of the phone or a visit and a hand held.

Since February 2009, I have turned my attention to working for ESRA and “befriending” Holocaust survivors.  There are about 50 volunteers, each of whom has one or two “clients” (no names!) to be visited once a week, talked to, listened to, accompanied to the doctor or hospital, gone shopping with, taken out for a walk / a visit to the coffee house / maybe the cinema, etc.  I am finding enormous pleasure in just being able to listen to, and be with, my client.  She has galloping dementia, the needle on the conversation record is stuck in the same groove week after week, she is as stubborn as a mule, she smokes like a chimney, she eats little and is as thin as a rake, but man, does she ever have a sense of humour in spite of the horrors that she has experienced – and her good sense of humour is the key to her present existence.  It gives me the greatest joy to see her face light up when I bring her a bunch of spring flowers or sit her down at her favourite café to have coffee, a squashy cake and – naturally – a cigarette!

There’s work for everyone to do

Befriending, helping, listening to, talking with – all these actions are becoming more and more evident, not only as life progresses but also in an ever-busier and impersonal world.  The young are usually not aware of the needs of those older and it is hard for them to be cognisant of just how quickly time passes and how they, too, may one day need a listening ear and a helping hand.  We speak today of mass unemployment but to my mind, there is enough work (albeit unpaid!) for everyone to do in this world if we turn to look at how we can help our neighbour.  Whether it be at home, or digging a well in a third world country, or teaching an illiterate person how to read and write, or setting up a program to get the young off the streets and away from crime – to me, there’s just so much to do and not enough time in which to do it.

I have always felt – especially in retirement – that I would at last have the time to be able to give back to society some of the goodness that has been shown to me throughout my life. If I can do this through voluntary work, through listening to the problems of others and trying to help solve them, to just being present whether in silence or talking – then I shall indeed feel richly rewarded.

There’s no pill against loneliness

The human brain and its workings are surely one of the greatest phenomena in this world.  But for all man’s abilities, inventions and discoveries, no pill has, as yet, been invented against loneliness and isolation – and I personally doubt that it ever will be.  There is no substitute for human love and a listening ear.  Let’s do what we can to alleviate emotional pain and hope to be able to make others aware that there is a huge need for them to do the same.

Homo sum:  humani nil a alienum puto

I am a man:  I count nothing human alien to me

Terence, ca. 190-159 BC

 Imogen Lathbury

Vienna, April 2011

This document as of 27 April 2011