Holding Hands

Chapter 34

"Pull in and park here." Brother Mika'il instructed. Hakeem did as he was told and parked his car in a parking garage beneath a high rise building in downtown Atlanta. He had never seen this part of town before. As they walked down the wide sidewalk, Hakeem made sure to take a mental picture of his surroundings. One thing he noticed was that they were passing by lots of homeless men down on their luck, camping out with their life's belongings on the sidewalk.

Their situation tugged at Hakeem's heart strings and he thought about reaching into his wallet to try and assist a few of them. But there were just too many. Hakeem's little money might help them for an hour or two. A few of the men might be able to buy a hot meal or add the money to some they already had and have enough to rent a hotel room for the night. But then what about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that?

The wide, two-story building Brother Mika'il entered was in the midst of all this wealth. Huge buildings worth millions of dollars on each side and probably some people inside worth millions too. But just outside of these shiny doors were people who had seen better days. People who probably didn't have a dollar to their name. Hakeem took a moment to ask God never to allow him to fall into poverty. "Authubilla min thalik. God, save me from such a fate." He whispered under his breath.

A long line of rectangular tables were set up in a huge room. Brother Mika'il walked over to a few of the men behind the table and greeted them warmly by name. He shook hands with some and fist bumped others who were wearing serving gloves. Placed about the room were other round tables with chairs surrounding them. A few were occupied by scruffy looking men.

"Looks like you brought us some extra hands," one of the men observed, eyeing Hakeem with a friendly smile. He reached his hand out and Hakeem shook it firmly, introducing himself.

"Hakeem." He said briefly.

"Shuaib. Nice to meet you." The man Hakeem shook hands with had a huge full beard, mostly black with a few white hairs sprinkled in. "This is the crew." Shuaib gestured to the men behind the table with his open hand, palm turned upwards. "You're gonna like them." Shuaib smiled again and Hakeem did too. It was infectious.

The hour he stayed helping to serve these men was eye opening. He listened to the stories of men who had come back from serving their country. Men who had PTSD. There were men who had been professionals, but couldn't find work no matter how hard they'd tried. There were alcoholics and men addicted to drugs. Some men suffered from severe dementia and mental illnesses.

As the men behind the table served, they gave these homeless men more than just food. They gave them words of encouragement. They gave an attentive ear. They gave advice. And they gave the men temporary work.

"I have a request for 3 handymen." A man announced over a loudspeaker. He was seated at a table with two other men screening applicants for jobs. Hakeem really had to perk up his ears to catch a few words of what the men at that table were saying to the lines of applicants who wanted to do the work. "You'll come here to the facility first. Doors open at 5 AM. You can shower and change into one of the clean work uniforms we have stored here in 'Captains Closet'." The man was saying. "If you need to shave, the barber will be here for three hours every Monday and Wednesday from 6-9. Priority is given to the men with work assignments for the day."

The seated man made another announcement. "I have a request for a plumber and two bricklayers." A few men seated at the round tables stood and formed a line where they were instructed to stand. A volunteer walked over to where those men stood and began explaining again what the men should expect. "You can pick up a round trip MARTA fare card right here on the day of your assignment so you can get to and from your worksite. Bag lunches are also provided to those who want them. You will be paid in cash at the end of the work day."

Hakeem understood that this was more than just a place to feed someone a meal for the day. It was a place to give someone down on their luck a leg up to get back on their feet. This place helped men feel whole again. Like they could do something about their situation. It wasn't a hand out. It was a hand up. Hakeem added his name to the regular volunteer registry and made a commitment to serve every two weeks. He would bring his brothers and father here to help.

Brother Mika'il kept a watchful eye on Hakeem as he served the men breakfast. Hakeem was interacting with the men standing in front of him and the older men lined up beside him behind the table. He looked to be quite at ease with everyone. Gone was the awkward shyness he'd displayed at the dinner meeting.