By Badrolhisham Bidin

In Malaysia, you are always hounded by beggars or people selling all kinds of things just when you are about to indulge in your favourite food or in a discussion with friends at restaurants and stalls.

They know when to approach but it is also the time when your hands are wet in curry and cannot take out your wallet or loose change from the pocket.
Normally a smile and a little head shake would be understood but there are persistent people insisting that you give them money or buy their products (normally tissue papers and pens) or they would stand by the table, staring at you.

I seldom say no to these people. Tissue papers come in handy at food outlets where they usually run out of this product, or pens, which I buy. It used to be five for RM10 but I noticed it has since been revised to RM10 for three. Usually, the tips are smooth and I share them with friends.

But there are times when you are in a discussion or worse, your right hand is mixing the rice and left is holding a spoon for the curry. Malaysians are generally friendly and would give a few Ringgit to these unfortunate people. No questions asked.

But several social experiments we did when I was with The Malay Mail and later New Straits Times showed the dark side of these “so-called” poor people.

For instance, when I staked out a foreign woman begging in the heart of the city many years ago.

The woman could have easily received more than RM200 from where I was watching her. Some of the office workers who passed by her at an overhead bridge gave her RM10, plus loose change from others.

After two hours, just sitting with a box in front of her, there was a lull and there she was, counting her money. It was over RM200. Looking left and right, she then stood up and walked away. I followed her from a safe distance, wanting to know her next action.

Along the way, she would stop and hold out an empty box. More money pouring in. Her next stop – that was when her true self was revealed.

She walked into a 4-D outlet and stood in the queue. I was in the line next to her. Guess what? She spent about RM100 buying numbers. All the earlier imagination of her buying food for her hungry children at home, was erased immediately.

Now, I wanted to see where she lived. By then, she realised she was being followed. She walked fast, with me hot on her heels. She went to Lebuh Ampang and boarded a bus, I jumped in. She was clearly annoyed by my presence, glaring at me.

It was a long bus ride, it was Ramadan and I was really tired by then. But curiosity got the better of me.

The bus was going towards Ampang. It passed by Taman Kosas and was going towards Bukit Belachan when I saw her pressing the red button. She got down, I got down too.

But then, I saw some kids waiting by the roadside, next to a squatter area, dwelled by foreigners.

The kids were holding stones and threatened to throw them at me, I backed out.

The village was raided by the authorities soon after and many of them were deported. But these people are always lurking around.

Then, when I was at the New Sunday Times desk, I told the bosses I wanted to try out as a beggar for a day, no, just for an hour to see how much I could earn.

So, one day, after I parked my car at the Pertama Complex, I changed into an old t-shirt, messed up my hair a bit and walked to the Masjid India area. Looking around, I noticed there were several beggars already sitting on the five-foot way.

There was an empty spot so I quickly walked there. Just as I was about to sit, the man beside me hurled a warning.

“This is my territory, if you don’t move, you will be in trouble,” he hissed at me. Sensing danger, I moved a few feet away, he glared at me.

A photographer was waiting at a coffee shop across the road. Not even five minutes later, a man walked by and placed RM1 on the piece of cloth.

Badrolhisham Bidin begging by the roadside in Jalan Masjid India

Soon after, another person dropped a RM1 note. And another. A woman with two kids asked the children to give me RM5. I said thank you profusely, the kids waved at me as they walked away.

Then I realised it was time to go as the offices around the area was about to close. Didn’t want anyone to recognise me, so I slowly put the money in the pocket and packed up. The hostile beggar looked angry, the money that went to me could have been his. His business was affected. But I ignored him, and walked fast to my car.

When I got into the car, I counted the money and it was definitely more than RM100, easy money for a less than an hour job.

The money collected was donated to the NST fund for the needy. The next day I went to the same spot and saw the same beggars sitting and waiting. If I could collect RM100 in an hour, do your maths.

We read on social media how an old man was seen waiting at petrol stations with a story that he needed to go home but he ran out of petrol. Sympathisers would help fill in the tank and give him pocket money. But then, his ruse was exposed as he couldn’t be running out of gas daily, can he?

Or teenagers selling calendars, nuts and drinks at petrol stations when they should be at a madrasah learning the Quran.

Husnuzon is a favourite word among the Malays. You should have positive thoughts for those you help but then think of what they do with the money.

A blind beggar whom I had shadowed, was seen walking into a bank after a “hard” day’s job. A bank staff whom I had befriended later revealed he had more than RM1 million in the account. Apparently, he was from outstation and stayed in a three-star hotel.

Is it better to channel your donation to the state-run Pusat Pungutan Zakat or legitimate non-governmental organisations? It is all up to you.