I don’t know. You try and do something good and then you wonder why you bothered. Let me explain.
As part of my holiday John and I went to Spain to stay with our friends Deborah and Mike. Last week Deborah messaged me about a friend of hers in India…
I’ve just been talking to our Indian friends in Kerala. They have lost everything and they had so little to start with. We are sending a bank transfer to our friend tomorrow so he can buy food and bedding for local families. It’s a tragic situation. We know this man and his family, who we have met on 3 visits to India. He lives in 2 rooms with his twin brother, youngest brother and parents. They have a stand pipe which they share with 5 neighbours and bed rolls which they all sleep on, in the same room. This is the extent of their belongings, and that of all the locals around them. They are spotlessly clean, kind and very well educated. We trust him and his brothers to help families who have lost everything. This we feel is direct and immediate aid.
As you may know, there have been severe floods in that area of India, with thousands of families losing everything, including their homes. Unimaginable for most of us.
I decided to follow Deborah’s lead and send this man some money to spend on supplies for his friends and neighbours. Any friend of Deborah’s etc, etc.
This was a week ago. Scroll forward to Friday last week. I get a text message from Lloyds Bank asking me to ring them about the transaction. My first reaction was to wonder, given I am their customer, why I had to ring them, rather than them ringing me.
The Indian bank I transferred the money to wanted to know why I had transferred the money. I explained as patiently as I could that it was effectively a charitable donation.
Today I got another text from Lloyds asking me to ring them again. Sigh. Who’s the customer in this relationship, I thought? Anyway, I rang them and the Indian bank had been on again to say I had to answer more questions, one of which was this. Is the man I transferred the money to registered under the MHO. The MHO it turned out stood for Ministry of Home Affairs. Well, how the hell should I know?! Given he’s an ordinary individual trying to help his fellow citizens out, I suspected he’s not. The man from Lloyds said I had to give an answer so I said ‘no’. I suspect that means the money will be returned.
Apparently Indian banks are always highly suspicious of foreign bank transfers to individuals and work on the assumption that it’s probably all about money laundering. I did explain to Lloyds that if I were about to launder any money it would probably be for more than £100. The humourless jobsworth at the other end of phone couldn’t even muster a chuckle.
So I fully expect to get yet another text from Lloyds in the next couple of days telling me that the Indian bank has sent back my £100, oh, and by the way we’ve deducted £20 of charges for asking you to call us.
I have long heard about the stultifying effect of bureaucracy in the Indian economy. I’m sure the bank employees at the Canara Bank are only doing what they’re employed to do, but seriously, someone needs to understand that there’s nothing criminal in sending an individual a small amount of money. And yet that’s exactly what I’ve been made to feel like - a criminal. I just hope there are no repercussions for Deborah’s friend.
But rest assured, Deborah’s friend is going to get my money if it’s the last thing I do.