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Philanthropy

Susie Gharib

    He pretended that it was hard to communicate although it was only a matter of purchasing a cone of ice cream and thus sought the help of a young woman dressed in the yellow of daffodils, who stood waiting for her turn to consume her usual vanilla cone as she was heading to her nearby home. He commended her English and wondered at such skills, being a non-native speaker of the language, and introduced himself as an artist who worked for a big charity organization, SHO: Global Charity at Work, that sponsored talent all over the world. He pressed his card into her hand and urged her to call, for he was eager to introduce her to his boss, a famous pianist whose concerts were attended by prominent politicians and other figures of importance. She fell into their benevolent trap and started paying visits to their house. The conflict began when the boss explained that she would have to live on their property if they were to adopt her talent.
    “I do not feel comfortable with the idea of residing in a cottage that is part of an aristocratic lady’s mansion. What if I want to choose my own dwelling?” she asserted.
    “You are in no position to have a choice,” answered the senior pianist in a surly voice.
    “I have not gone to their country yet and he is treating me as a slave,” she said to herself.
    “I am afraid that this contract does not suit me and I would like to be excused,” she said and stood ready to head home.
    She slowly waded through their frowns and made it to the front door, then heaved a big sigh when she found herself on the road. Numerous letters, abusive, insulting and threatening in tone, bombarded her door, to which she never responded at all. One letter asked her to dump her degree in a pile of dung since she declined to have her thesis published by them. The thesis was still in their possession, so she reported them to their embassy, who claimed that they were not aware of any celebrities or artists recruiting or touring in the country. They must be frauds.
    The thesis was returned months later, long after their departure, but she desperately wanted to know whether they were real or fakes and why such animosity was displayed. Twenty-five years passed when as she was sorting old letters and photos out, she found the pile of copies of their letters because the original ones did not return from the embassy. She rushed to the internet and googled their names. They were real people and still in business, but fighting through lawsuits for sexual harassment and other types of abuse.

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