Cultivating passion

"Hi, I'm calling from a charity". "You best come in then, but I'm telling you now I'm not signing up for a standing order". I feel the warmth of the hallway and the house immediately, and realise that it is a little cold out there walking the streets. It is a familiar warmth to me, the warmth of being invited into someone's home, I am immediately grateful. My eyes scan the room, letters opened on the table, a work pass that says BBC on the counter. "Ah, you work for the BBC" "Yes", "what do you do there?" "I'm the World Services' Africa correspondent". Ah, I think, how interesting, we are going to get on well. "So, what do you want from me?" "Well, I'll tell you it straight there's no point in mucking around...I want a standing order...". I grin...he grins, "or a donation" I add, realising that this man is relatively rich and might give Karuna a big fat cheque.

"Right then, you best give me your pitch" "there is no pitch", we laugh. "But tell me, seriously, why are you different from all the rest of the charities out there, why should I give to you?". We talk about India, he's lived there for a year, he knows more about India than me, but I realise he's not asking me about India, he's asking me about why I feel passionately about Karuna. I relate my experience in the last ten years of working with people with HIV in the UK and other parts of the world, many of whom are from Africa. I say my interest is in discrimination and the "have nots" in our world. I say I'm a volunteer for Karuna, and I'm at the beginning of my journey of really trying to connect with the experience of the Dalits. I do it in the only way I know how, relate it to my experiences, and build links. I tell him that I trust Karuna because I know it's not easy to win the trust of marginalised people, it's not easy developing projects from scratch that are now run by Dalits for themselves. I say there's something creative and genuine in my experience of Karuna and what I know about it. He finds me very persuasive and tells me so. This is a compliment from this journalist who asks straight questions and I acknowledge it with as much grace as I can muster.

He tells me he had a Dalit cleaner when he lived in India. Tells me that the cook of the house said that if the cleaner was ever allowed in the kitchen of the house, she would resign as his cook. He tells me he hates Hinduism because it fosters this sense of when you're born you're screwed, you just have to put up with your lot. I don't know much about Hinduism, but I know that I believe that most religions are polluted and diluted by their contact with people on earth, that our societies have a huge influence on the way our religions are practiced. He nods and acknowledges viciferiously. We talk about conflict and Buddhism in Sri Lanka.

He talks about war and poverty, a bit about what he's seen. He wants to read me something, he says that it's about fighting and war so being a pacifist I might find it difficult. I give him a knowing look, and he understands I think that he comment is somewhat misplaced. He shows me a picture on the way out of two kids playing cricket outside a blurred Taj Mahal. He says he doesn't know what caste the kids are. Our eyes meet and we say goodbye.

He doesn't sign up. He says that I must trust him that he really will give something to Karuna, a one off donation in the future, but he acknowledges that he is saying that he can't help me now, with what I am doing tonight. As I type this I realise how much I enjoyed the warmth of his house, the opportunity to connect with another human being, and opportunity to talk with passion about my life and my connection with Karuna. I feel grateful for the opportunity to cultivate and develop my confidence and passion a little more. I have done the leg work on Karuna's behalf with him, and I must let go of the outcome around whether he will ever get around to giving Karuna any money.