LIfe on the Streets 3: Panhandling

We see people panhandling for loose change all the time in our cities.  It’s commonplace.  We have come to adopt certain attitudes towards panhandlers and developed our own patterns of giving (or not).

We make assumptions about those who would ask us for a handout, and we have prejudices about the different approaches people take when asking for money.  However we respond, we walk away and the next person on the sidewalk is hit for a donation.

Generally, those who ask, ask unashamedly, without reservation, boldly, maybe even arrogantly.  Some have learned to hit the right buttons and tell one (maybe of several) stories that have brought them success in the past. It looks so easy, like anyone could do it.

That’s what it appears to be right now, but it wasn’t always like this.

What about the first times?

What would it be like to have no other choice but to ask others for help?  When you have exhausted all of your options?  You ask people for money: not your family or friends (that ended long ago), but complete strangers (who generally are opposed to what you are doing). 

All of your resources are gone and you have hit the wall.  You have no other options, so you do what you have to do to survive.  Pride is long gone and the memory tapes of ‘loser’,’ useless piece of ____ ‘, useless bum’ –  that were ingrained into your thinking from childhood come to the resurface, are reinforced and become your reality.

The first few times it would be hard – maybe the first few thousand – but it becomes a part of who you are.   Blame, shame and desperation have become your daily portion.  

There’s  no way out.  It’s your life now, and you get used to it.  You get better at it.  You harden yourself to the shame, and do your ‘work’. You know where to go, what to avoid, work the angles, develop the stories, and push yourself farther and farther away from who you once were.

Panhandling, it’s pretty simple.  Easy.  Straightforward.  Right?

 “Hey mister, any spare change?”

Life on the Streets 2: Invisibility

I can become invisible in three seconds.

In the time it takes for me to move to a standing position on the sidewalk to sit on the curb beside someone who is experiencing homelessness, I am invisible. 

No one sees me (or the person I am now sitting beside); people look at their watches or their pda’s as soon as they catch a glimpse of us;  attention is diverted quickly to anything that is in a different direction.

You can try it sometime if you want to risk it, and it will be nerve wracking to say the least, but don’t worry,  you’ll be OK as soon as you stand up and continue on your way.

But what if you couldn’t stand up?  What if you just didn’t have the wherewithal to sluff off the years or abuse and mental torment?  What if you could not muster the stuff to rise from that place of invisibility and anonymity and no-one-ness? What if you had to stay there? What would that be like?

I know some high level leadership training courses that have a segment where the student has to either sleep in a shelter or panhandle until she ‘earns’ ten dollars.  At OIM, we have provided opportunities for people to attend ‘One Homeless Night’ where a participant spends the evening on the streets (8 pm to 12 midnight) with only $1.50 and then sleep in a church basement as part of an ‘out of the cold’ shelter experience.  Other programs like these have been run with varying degrees of severity, and in some measure, participants can experience a certain degree of ‘homelessness’.

The common denominator in all these examples, is that at the end of a certain period of discomfort, hunger or embarrassment, you just go back home to the suburbs where a caring family, nice warm home and bed await.  (Notwithstanding the stop at the first fast food joint for a period of ‘catching up’ on some serious eating).

What if there was no choice?  What would it be like to find a place to stay when the shelters are full? Who can you trust? Where can you go?  Where will you use the bathroom (after you are identified as homeless)? Where is safe?

Give this five minutes of your consideration, then give us some feedback.

Bedbugs or Brutality?

I walked past Jim sleeping outside the convenience store on my way to the bank.  He was OK, probably tired from a late night.  The doorway of the building he was laying across was vacant, and he was ‘out of the way’ at least, from pedestrians and cars.  No danger.  No alarm.

This is Jim’s ‘area’, I guess you could say.  He would pan outside the supermarket, play his guitar for donations (or not), and generally was easy to get along with.  He knew how to do his ‘work’ and got by – as best a person could get by, homeless style.

I have wakened Jim on occasion to see if he was OK, or needed something, or if I had something for him.  Today everything looked good, so I let him sleep.

He comes to the office regularly, and we have gone out of the way to help him with recording some of his songs, created CD’s for him to market and so on.  He appreciates the help, but he is pretty entrenched in his lifestyle for any radical change – at least for now.  So, we do what we can, and wait for the day when he wants to make a change.

Back to the street.

On the way back from the bank, one of Ottawa’s finest has pulled the black and white over the curb just in front of Jim’s spot.  A young constable, mid twenties, has the task of ‘moving Jim “along”.  ( I have yet to discover where ‘along’ is.  For sure it’s not here and not now).

It doesn’t look pretty.  Jim is shaken up from his peaceful sleep, rushing to gather his things to the tune of “Hurry up.  You need to move – NOW!” and other such pleasantries.  Jim slips his foot out of his oversized running shoe and shows the peace officer his feet – black and blue and cut.  “I can’t move fast – look at my feet”, Jim shouts at the policeman, who by now is donning his black leather gloves. 

I stay and watch as a witness, in case something goes awry, but it gets cleared up.  “Cleared up”.  Sounds good, clean, and neat, but it’s far from anything even remotely connected with clean or clear.  It’s messy.

I am grieved whenever I see this happen, and it happens all the time. Some business owner, or not – maybe it’s just time for a ‘sweep’ of our streets from city hall – whatever… it’s dehumanizing, degrading, condescending and sometimes brutal.  It’s about the wielding of power and the power of injustice.

Jim has tried to get housing, but it’s not an easy option for him.  He had to leave his last place because of the bedbugs.  Lots of them – hungry too! 

At the very least, there aren’t any bedbugs on the streets – just the police.

What’s worse?

Getting a Place of Your Own

Harry has been desperately searching for shelter since he was released from jail three months ago.  He has been squeaky clean – no drugs or alcohol since his discharge.  He is pleasant, kind and often helps others with their troubles.  (Oh yes, he’s still a bit rough around the edges, but we are proud and happy to see how he is managing things at this time).  The one major glitch in his life right now is finding a place of his own. 

I spoke with him at some length and he gave me the ‘Housing 101’ summary.  I took note of his thoughts and feelings about what it is like to have your own place.  Three phases: On the streets; Looking for Housing; Finding a place.

ON THE STREETS

You are nothing.  Nobody wants to know you, know who you are. You’re the bottom of the shoe.  You feel like a ‘low life’, limbo, and you are always wondering the ‘what if’s’: what if this, what if that.  You feel like an empty shell, like you are just spinning your wheels.  You feel depressed, deprived, miserable, and angry – angry at yourself.  You get depressed, real depressed.

LOOKING FOR HOUSING

Agencies, housing help, your worker… it’s all the same story.  It’s one long headache.  Living in a bad area is worse than homelessness – people always knocking on your door, buy this/that… there’s no stopping it.  So ANGRY!

Me: ‘How hard is it? One to ten?’

TEN!  It’s not about money. If you’re starting over, you need money, references, someone to vouch for you.  Twenty years ago, if you had the money, you were ‘in’.  Not today!  Used to be:  “Oh, on ODSP (Ontario Disability Service Plan)?  OK, just fill out this form.”  Not now.  It’s fill out this form, that form, get references, who will vouch for you? When something comes up, we’ll call you.’

It doesn’t happen.  Not any more.  Getting housing is like winning the lottery – about the same chances.

WHEN YOU FINALLY GET HOUSING

It’s about 100,000 pounds off your chest.  Your mind is at ease, all the pressures are gone, complete turnaround.   If you got no place, and then you get a place, you lose the anger, you can relax.

It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s yours.  You go to the door. You have the key.  You open the door and shut the world out behind you.  Maybe you have a TV here, a bed there, a little table – it’s your place, your domain…

When you finally get your own place, you can begin to think about what to do next.  You have more patience, you can start to plan.  You’re not on the edge, not jumpy.

You get a place, you see things different; you answer different – there’s no more anger in your voice.

You can put your feet up and say, “I’m home and this is mine.”

Getting a place can make the difference between success in reintegration and re-offending. We’re doing what we can to make Harry’s search successful.

Word from the Drop In

Speaking with Brent at the drop in last week, I discoverd he had an aptitude and interest in writing.  I asked him to write about our Wednesday drop in and describe from the front lines, what it was like.  Without editing, here is his report:

One of the best kept secrets amounge people of limited income, who live in Ottawa, is the Ottawa Innercity Mission’s (OIM’s) Wednesday Drop-in. I have been a semi-regular at these drop-in’s since before they took up residence at their present location. I will try to explain here most of the reasons for my attendance at this particular function..

 The drop-in is held every Wednesday year round at their new location on Gladstone Ave. between Bank and Kent streets.in the Salvation Army Church building and easily accessible by several OC Transpo bus routes. It is free and open to everyone who cares to attend. I like to attend because of the relaxed atmosphere which is well organized, clean, well maintained and usually quite quiet and very well run. Although OIM is a Christian based organization, there is no lectures, chapel services or religious readings at these drop-ins. The people who attend maintain an atmosphere which is quite controlled, friendly and easy going. Staff members and volunteers mix freely with the patrons. There are several aspects to the program throughout the day which I will explain here.

 The door is open at at 10:00 am and the entire building is utilized. The first 25 people through the door are offered food bank tickets, which I will come to in a moment. On the lower level coffee, tea, milk and juice are available all day. At opening time there is a selection of breads, muffins, cookies and the like (breakfast) available. People gather in groups to talk, play cards or other games, read or just generally socialize. It is a great place to meet old friends or make new ones. At noon a hot meal is served at the tables and there is always enough food that seconds are regularly offered The volunteers serve up the food and everyone is encouraged to eat their fill. After lunch is served the volunteers and staff usually circulate throughout the room offering a selection of sandwiches and some type of desert. Promptly at 1:00pm one of the staff members begins to call numbers for the food bank offerings and groceries are distributed in an orderly fashion. Many people stay on to chat, socialize and play cards until 3:00 in the afternoon.

 On the second level there is a barber who, on a first come first served basis, will cut your hair for free. Rudy usually does between 12 and 15 haircuts throughout the day but he does take the summer months off. There is also a foot care clinic there where you can get your feet cleaned and once dried you will receive a new pair of socks. A chiropractic doctor is available afternoon for those who need his services.

 The third level of the building has a room which offers a selection of used clothing and footwear. This is quite popular first thing in the morning as that is when selection is best. If you can’t find what you want, come back again next week as there are always new offerings available.

 All in all OIM runs a great, fun, safe and much appreciated program. I would encourage everyone of limited means to come out and participate in a great weekly event. It is well worth the price of admission. 

 Hope this meets your needs.  I will get the other article bout the good samaritan written this afternoon or evening.  I am making preperations to get away for the weekend so am very busy.  Cheers.

Brent

 If you would like to read Brent’s article about the good samaritan, let me know by responding to this blog.  Cheers!

100% Success Rate at OIM!!

 ‘So what kind of success rate do you have with people?’  I looked at this person while a whirlwind of thoughts raced around in my head, almost like the dog chasing his tail.

My friend was thinking there might be a 3%, or maybe 5% success rate – where a person who lives in abject poverty, on the streets, ‘recovers’ and breaks the cycle of poverty, gets a job, an apartment, a family and all the other trappings that accompany the ‘Canadian dream’.

My mind flashed to people that I knew on the streets: people that had been sexually abused for many years as children and who had articulated these abuses only after living with them in silence for over 20 years;  I thought of others who were trapped in the dark cycle of drug and alcohol addiction which started as self-medication to deal with the beatings received from father, mother, step-parent or whoever; then of the teenage girl who brought her new born baby to the drop in for help, looking for someone – anyone who might show her real love, because in her experience people had only used her as if she were a piece of meat, a commodity that could be sold, rented or used.

All this raced through my mind in just a few seconds, with my friend waiting for an answer to his probing question.

‘One hundred percent,’ I replied, ‘We have a 100% success rate.’

His mouth dropped open in disbelief.  ‘What??  How??’

‘Each time we hand out a sandwich, or sleeping bag, or pair of socks, we build relationship with people who have never had relationship before.  It brings someone a step closer to a time when a light will come on and they will make better decisions and life choices.’

Some agencies count their ‘success’ by the number of plates served at a shelter or drop in (not withstanding that many folks will have five helpings!), or the number of people who attend a chapel service in order to receive a meal ticket, or the number of youth who will participate in a ‘project’ so as to make them eligible to receive services.

We count the number of positive interactions we have with our street friends at our drop in services or on the street through outreach.  It’s all about relationship (and 100% success).

One of our Kids – at the art show

The first time I met Kaylin she was on street outreach two years ago. I noticed her sitting on the sidewalk on Bank Street with a torn up hat placed in front of her and holding a sign that said “Anything would help, even a smile”.

I noticed that Kaylin was crying. When I asked her what was wrong she said that I group of tourists came up and took out their camera to take a picture of her. She asked them not to take the picture, but they ignored her and snapped the shot anyway. Then, without a word, the tourists just turned and walked away.

Kaylin felt humiliated, as if she was not a real person, “…just part of the scenery”as she says.

 Since that day our relationship with Kaylin has grown much closer and last year she joined our youth art program. She really didn’t want to paint because in her words, “I stink at painting”. She decided to make jewelery instead. At our first youth art show people were astounded at her beautiful creations. Encouraged by these compliments Kaylin showed up for art group the next week and said “I think I want to try painting now.”

It’s been  5 months now, and Kaylin shows up faithfully every week and pours out her heart on the canvas.  In fact, she has painted more pictures than anyone else in the group.

She arrived early to help set up the tables and the paintings for our second youth art show just last week. As we were setting up one of our staff asked Kaylin if she was excited about the putting her art work in the show. She said that she was happy but also very nervous because she did not think that anyone would be interested in coming to see her work.

“It will probably only be my mom who comes and that’s it”.

When we opened the doors at six o clock there was already a group of about 15 people waiting to come in. Within the first 30 minutes the room was filled with people who were amazed at the creativity displayed by the youth in the program. 

I looked at Kaylin and she had a big smile on her face, “I guess it’s more than just my mom” she laughed. 

By the end of the night we had over one hundred people who attended. The highlight of the night for me was walking out to the garden area we had displayed some of the art work.

Kaylin was standing next to one of her paintings and she was surrounded by visitors. When I moved closer to hear what Kaylin was saying I realized that she was telling them her life story. She was telling them about how she had struggled with drugs, but that she was doing better now. She was sharing her thoughts about what was needed in order to help homeless youth.

 

As she explained the meaning behind her favourite painting, I looked at the faces of everyone standing around her. They were hanging on her every word, totally locked in and listening to everything she had to say. 

In that moment, I thought back to the first time that I met her. Just a piece of the scenery?

Not anymore.  Kaylin was the star of the show.

Jason Pino, Youth Outreach Worker

A Changed Life

Sam was always going to go to detox in Thunder Bay  – some day.  His mother would send money and Sam would spend it on booze.  His mother would send more money for a bus ticket, but the temptation was too great.  Once he even made it to the bus station, but ran.

 He failed to follow through – we don’t know how many times. Many years worth, at least.  He’d tell his ‘failure’ story over and over again.  He wanted to change, but couldn’t.

We would see him on a weekly basis, often several times a week.  One favourite haunt was the coin laundry downstairs.  He would come with Stacey and Milo, hang around for a while and off to the next stop.  Our words of encouragement seemed to fall on deaf ears.  It was disheartening and discouraging.

Then last fall he disappeared completely.  Gone.

When someone disappears it might mean several things: death, jail or the hospital are the ‘big three’.  No  one had heard from him – not even Stacey and Milo.

Three months later he shows up, clean and sober.  His mother sent him some money, he finally made a decision, and followed through.

Remarkable!

Ten months of sobriety now, and counting – his life has changed.

If you’re interested in another perspective on this story, check out http://bit.ly/cSmznf

It takes a community to change a life, and for whatever part we had to play in this story, we are grateful and thankful.

It’s a pretty good reminder: You never know when something you say, or some random gift of kindness, or prayer for help will make the difference in someone’s life. 

It’s also a good lesson on life: Never give up.  Never.