San Francisco

San Francisco
Obama has had a bad summer. That was the unanimous feeling of democrats and republicans alike during my visit to California last week. This was not my first visit to San Francisco but it was, by far, my most memorable. The effects of the recession were everywhere – from the sales in the stores to the news stories about poverty and 10% rates of unemployment.
But it was to the south of Market Street, the “other side” of the famous tram F Line between the Wharfe and Castro, where the extent of human suffering, depravation, damage and poverty was not only shocking – it was unforgettable.
These mainly black American people seem to have no hope. Seized by the combined effects of poverty, alcohol and/or drugs ( I really wasn’t sure which) the extent of the begging and the visible signs of ill health in shop doorways, street corners and alleyways as a whole sea of human beings suffered, was in stark contrast to the hope and optimism of the America which Obama represents.
Hope? Where is it? Light? In this kind of darkness!? Optimism? Healthcare for all?
Missing limbs, lack of shoes, obvious medical conditions ranging from critical to superficial were on display everywhere. Several young looking human souls simply laid out flat on the concrete sidewalk – totally ignored by the coffee hugging, distracted, slightly restless, better off – rushing by on the other side.
The City remains enchanting if dirty. There is a sense of history and tradition which might, one day, return. There is hope. But the Golden Gate Bridge is hardly a symbol of opulence at the present time: rather a sign of hope that the future might bring less suffering and more confidence to this wonderful, fresh region.