Five Minutes

 “Why I want to go to Uganda.” Sarah twirled her pen and stared at the paper. She underlined “Uganda.”

Uganda.

“I wonder if all of us Americans pronounce ‘Uganda’ right,” she thought. “It’s probably butchered by years of ignorant imperialism.” Sarah twirled her pen again. She was trying to begin an application essay for a volunteer program in Africa. The idea of going to Africa appealed to her—it made her feel generous and selfless. Sarah smiled at her own altruism.

“Uganda. It’s probably accented differently and it’s probably not ‘YOO’ but ‘OOH.’ OOOguhnnnDAH.” Sarah looked up, realizing she had said it out loud.  She bit her lower lip and looked at the random socialites around her in the coffee shop.

Sarah loved coffee shops. There was something trendy and sophisticated about sitting alone with a steaming cup of cappuccino, a pen in hand and a serious philosophical expression on your face. This was the kind of place where young single people come dressed in black, give sultry looks to each other and have conversations about Tolstoy, Nietzsche, and other sophisticated things. The sound of café latte’s, mochaccino’s, and raspberry ice teas clinked around her. A young couple in the corner indulged in intimate laughter. Sarah lavishly swirled another creamer into her drink. She brushed a hair off her carefully chosen black designer sweater and sat up straighter, flipping her hair with the motion she had practiced in the mirror that morning. “WhyIwanttogotoUganda… why why why why… why I want to… why…”

“Excuse me, what are you reading?”

Sarah saw a large balding white man turned around at the table in front of her. His forehead scrunched up as he asked his question. The collar of his shirt had a yellowish tinge and a button was missing at the neck, revealing a few unwashed black curls. She noticed a patch of dampness under his arm when he moved to adjust his chair. “It’s another one of those homeless people asking for money,” Sarah speculated. Sarah was a nice person. She was nice to the less fortunate. She put her pen down. She’d give him five minutes of friendliness.

“Tolstoy, War and Peace” she answered.

“Oh wow. Long book.”

Sarah started to smile. She always smiled—except when she was trying to look sultry in coffee shops. “Yeah…Sure is…”

“I finished reading that book in two weeks,” he continued. “It’s great. I love it. I really like reading Tolstoy...” He paused to see her reaction. Sarah smiled at his lies. She knew they were lies. She knew homeless people couldn’t read faster than she could. She decided to be gracious and pretend to believe him.

“Are you from around here?” Sarah asked politely. Homeless people liked it when they were treated like they had a home. She put an interested look on her face.

“Oh no, I just moved out here, I don’t really know anyone. I go to DeVRY—you know DeVRY—“

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Sarah thought about the commercials she had seen for the school on TV. “DEVRY… we’re SERIOUS about success.” She thought about the scroll of flashing majors at the end of the commercial. “YOU—yes, YOU—can earn a degree in any of these areas at DEVRY.”

“Yeah, DeVry, that technical school. That’s where I’m a student.” He stopped to see if she believed him. She nodded. She smiled again. “Yeah, I go to DeVry and I don’t really know anyone around here. I can tell you’re a student too—you’re a student here, right?”

Something in the manner that he said, “right” was familiar. She thought for a second that she had seen him before. It was probably because he was a homeless man—they’re all alike, and she’d seen them before. She sighed.

“Right?” he repeated. He studied her closely.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a senior here at Northwestern.” Sarah wondered if that was too much information to give to a potentially dangerous person.

“Northwestern, yeah… that’s what I thought. Northwestern. That’s a good school.”

“Yeah, I love it,” a little boredom creeping into her voice.

“So what’s so good about it? Do you like your classes—your professors?” He barely concealed a smirk.

Sarah was looking at her watch. His five minutes were probably up. Sarah picked up her pen again and looked down at her paper, hoping this man would pick up the hint.  

            “I see you’re busy, but could I just have a moment? It’ll only take a second. Please. I want to explain something to you.”

Sarah let out a breath, wondering why out of all the people in the room he had decided to talk to her. She began to regret the generosity she had shown this man. “Actually I have to…” She glanced at her watch again. Only one hour left until she had to be at her meeting. She needed to get this application essay done.

“Actually, I really do have to do this… I’m—I’m sorry.” She gave him her most apologetic smile. He looked at her, he looked like he was trying to make a decision.

“I don’t know how to explain this, but I’m not really...I just wanted to...” He grew flustered, searching for the words he wanted.

“What do you mean?” she asked. She stared at his missing button. She knew he was about to ask her for money. She wondered if she had some change in her pockets. She thought she had some left over from the cappuccino she had bought earlier. The man sat for a moment as if deciding something. He looked at her and gave her a weary look.

“Forget it. Thanks for your time.”

“No problem. Hey, hold on! I think I have dime in my pocket—do you want it?”

            “No thanks. Have a nice day.” As he walked away, he pulled something out of his back pocket.

She glanced at him leaving before looking back at her paper. She had given him five minutes. She picked up her pen with a satisfied look upon her face—she had befriended a homeless person.

Uganda. 

“Community service is about embracing the unknown and stepping out of your comfort zone,” she wrote. “Because I’ve grown up with so many opportunities, I feel an obligation to our society to…”

 *          *          *

There was a StreetWise Vendor standing outside the door. Professor Davidson walked out of the coffee shop running his hand through his unwashed hair. He put his wallet back into his back pocket and turned to the vender, handing him a dollar. The vendor thanked him, saying “God bless ya.” Professor Davidson looked at him. “Ben,” read his nametag.

“No problem Ben.” He walked towards his car parked on the street. Stepping into his car, he pulled a sweater out from the back seat and slipped it over his stained shirt. “This is definitely an interesting research project,” he thought. He couldn’t believe Sarah hadn’t recognized him. She had come into office hours a few times and he had been impressed by her ideas and ambitions. He was also kind of glad that she didn’t recognize him. It would have been hard to explain his sociology research to her. He chuckled. A Northwestern professor pretending to be a homeless person. He couldn’t believe he had been so convincing. Still, he was disturbed by Sarah’s responses. Wasn’t she the one that wanted to go to Uganda this summer? She was never going to make it to Uganda.

Before starting his car, he finished writing the last of his notes on his encounter with Sarah.

“Initial friendliness with slight condescension. Disinterest after five minutes.”

Sonya Koo

Medical Student, Year 3

Third Place, Prose