I made a new friend last night.

Merryn and I had spent a leisurely evening in Sydney’s China Town, and were walking up George Street towards the city centre. Merryn stopped in at a McDonalds to use the toilet and I waited outside on the sidewalk. Parked in front of the McDonalds was a homeless guy. He was sitting on a mat, his legs folded under him and his long grey hair dangling around his face. He wore the typical street persons’ attire of clothes that hadn’t seen a washing machine for years, and he stared into the crowd without much expression. Around him sat cans of shoe polish and neatly arranged brushes—the tools of a shoe-shining service he was offering. Despite the multitudes walking past him, business wasn’t looking that good.

Further down George Street a long line of people waited outside a theatre and, curious, I walked down to see who was performing. It was no one I knew. I wondered back to McDonalds, leant against the wall and watched the shoe-shiner for a while. I wondered what his story was, how he’d ended up here, and why I felt so insecure about going and asking him.

A shopping cart held his possessions, and perched on it was a cardboard sign that advertised his business. ‘It takes just 5 minutes to have happy feet’, the sign read. I smiled, looked at his cans of black polish and then at the pair of white joggers on my feet. I walked over to him, knelt down and explained that with advertising that good I wanted to give him some business but wasn’t sure my shoes would benefit.

‘I’ve got some dubbin—that would waterproof them,’ he replied with a smile.

I declined the offer but asked if I could support his work with a donation. He accepted my gift and we got chatting.

His name is Brian. He’s been on the streets since his breakdown. He sleeps in a doorway at night and does his shoe-shine business by day. He has a route that he follows each week—Martin Place during weekday peak hours, Pitt Street Mall on the weekends, outside McDonalds Saturday nights. He’d rather work for money than beg for it.

I asked Brian whether he’d made use of any of the shelters around the city. ‘Yeah, I’ve stayed in a few,’ he said. ‘The people running them are good, but the shelters attract bad people.’ Brian told me that during one shelter stay he was stabbed in the chest—all for the $4 in his pocket.

I looked back at Brian’s sign. Under his slogan, ‘It takes only 5 minutes to have happy feet’, was another phrase—‘Jesus loves you and me’.

‘You’re a man of faith,’ I said, pointing to the sign.

‘Yeah,’ Brian said. ‘The story goes like this. I went to a church-run boy’s school as a kid but never thought much about religion afterwards. Then a year ago my brother died. I was in a really bad way; just didn’t know what to do. I prayed to God, asked Jesus for help. And that’s when I got the idea for this shoe-shine business. God helped me.’ Brian pulled out his Bible—a copy of the New International Version in a nice cover (obviously donated as someone had written ‘From Joanne to Darrell’ on the inside title page). Brian told me his favourite book of the Bible was the Gospel of John.

Merryn came out of McDonalds and after a few more minutes chatting it was time to go. Brian thanked me for the conversation. ‘Not many people stop and talk to the homeless,’ he said. I already knew that. I haven’t stopped that many times myself. After speaking to Brian I realised this was my loss. He was friendly and intelligent. We could’ve talked for some time.

I saw Brian again this morning in the Pitt Street Mall—his Sunday morning market place. He told me that business was slow and that he’d given the money I gave him last night to another homeless guy needing shoes. ‘My heart just went out to him,’ Brian said.

Who knows if Brian was telling me the truth. I hope to get to know him better to find out. And to do that, I may just wear my black shoes to the city next week—and get them polished.

© 2007 Sheridan Voysey is a writer, speaker, broadcaster and author of Unseen Footprints: Encountering the divine along the journey of life (Scripture Union, 2005). www.thethoughtfactory.net