Trolley speaker man

Almost every week, sometimes even twice, someone with a trolley speaker arrives in my neighbourhood, asking for donations to help a kidney or cancer patient—or similarly devastating illness. At first, I felt genuine sympathy for them. I’d donate whatever little I could, moved by their stories. But now, their visits have become so frequent that I find myself ignoring them.

Despite the loud voice and the emotional background music, I’ve learned to block it out. The sympathy I once felt has gradually turned into irritation.

I want to empathize, but I just can’t anymore. I hate myself for it.

What strikes me as odd is how similar all these appeals sound. The recordings always have the same solemn tone, introducing the patient by name, along with their district, municipality and ward number, and emphasizing their financial struggles. The style of narration and mournful background music never change—it feels like they’re following a template.

I can’t help but wonder: where do these families go to have these recordings made? Is there an agency that handles this? Or is it something hospitals suggest? The repetitive style of these pleas has made me sceptical.

It’s tough to tell if these appeals are legitimate. They could be heartfelt cries for help from families struggling to save their loved ones—or they could be scams preying on people’s compassion. If it’s the latter, authorities must step in and put a stop to this manipulation.

But if they are real, another unsettling question comes to mind: Why are there so many young kidney patients? It’s alarming to hear about such critical organ failure in young people. Is it something in our food, water, air, or lifestyle? If kidney disease is becoming this common, why aren’t health authorities addressing the issue more proactively?

This hits particularly close to home for me, as kidney disease has already taken the life of a loved one. It’s a topic I can’t help but notice, and it worries me deeply.

In Nepal, quality healthcare is prohibitively expensive. For most families, a serious illness spells financial disaster. It’s heartbreaking to see so many people forced to depend on public donations for basic treatment. This raises some difficult questions: Why is healthcare so unaffordable? Why isn’t there more support for life-threatening illnesses?

As for the man with the trolley speaker—I want to feel for the person he is representing, but I just can’t anymore. The guilt eats at me, but so does the doubt.