Christmas post

Happy Christmas to all!

Back home for a week or so over the Xmas period. Plan on posting a bit more in the New Year (let's call it one of my resolutions!). Did encounter a few homeless people while I was running around getting a few last minute Christmas presents but didn't get to have a long chat with any of them. One guy was Hungarian and didn't seem to speak much English....once we'd established where he was from, conversation proved virtually impossible. Threw him a few coins and went on my way.

Then I came across a youngish girl openly stopping passersby on Nassau street and she made no secret of why she was homeless. Told me she'd been in care and then went on the streets. Also told me that she'd been raped while on the streets and had a child and that was why she was begging- to get some money together for them. Looking back on our meeting,she told me all this in such a nonchalant, blasé sort of way that I wasn't sure whether to believe her and didn't really process the significance of the statement. In retrospect, assuming it was true (and from my limited knowledge of life on the streets) it could very easily be, it's a fairly shocking and traumatic thing to happen but just underlines the vulnerability of those who are homeless.

On an optimistic note, it's nice to see that so many people in Ireland really care about the issue of homelessness and are trying to do something about it. Was chatting to a couple of the organisers of a group of students from Belvedere College who were staging a sleep-out on O'Connell Street in Dublin in order to fundraise for Focus Ireland and the Fr. Peter McVerry Trust. Great way to foster civic responsibility and an awareness of social justice issues. Really nice, friendly bunch of guys too.Asked how much of the money raised went directly to the charities and they told me 100% which was reassuring to hear. Also restores your faith in humanity in general when you see people being proactive in this way. May be something I look at myself in 2012...spending a night on the streets.... After all, there's not much use writing/blogging about it if I've never experienced it myself, is there? Anyway, just a thought for now......Might see if I can join the Belvedere boys next year....

Down but not out

Yesterday evening I went out with the express intention of talking to another homeless person in order to update the blog as I haven't had a chance to post in a while.... I've been realising a couple of things as I go along with this project.....small things mainly and no doubt I'll learn a lot along the way too but a few major elements that have emerged already for me are a) the importance of that initial 'vibe' or feeling you get within minutes of talking to someone and b) what to say to someone to gain their trust and  c) the importance of personal safety, principally my own in this case since I'm working on my own on this.

I didn't have to lok very hard or for a long time and within minutes of getting into town, I met Jimmy  (*not his real name) on the Ha'penny Bridge beside the entrance to Temple Bar along the Quays. It's one of those spots that you are guaranteed to find someone tapping despite it being one of the most exposed (to the elements) bridges in Dublin and it seems like sheer madness at times for anyone to pick this spot to beg. However, I guess there's some logic to it as there's certainly plenty of footfall along it although you'd wonder how many people that cross it would actually stop to talk to or toss a few coins to the people begging/tapping on the bridge.

Anyway, I spotted Jimmy, who was sitting with his back against the bridge, immediately and asked him if he'd like to go to the Centra shop across the road which I'd scoped out earlier for a cup of tea/hot chocolate. I gave him what by now is becoming my 'spiel' ie. that I wanted to ask him a couple of questions, that I wasn't a member of the Garda Síochána or a journalist and that I simply wanted to talk to him and learn about his experience of homelessness for my blog.
Anyway, Jimmy clearly didn't have much else to do and must have figured that he'd nothing to lose by talking to me and agreed to come for a cup of tea with me pretty willingly although he did tell me he had to try and get into a hostel before 8 p.m. (seems this is roughly around the time they stop admitting people) and he'd have a 20 minute walk to get to the hostel so he'd have to go around twenty to 8. This suited me fine as I had a dance class at 8 anyway and was just killing time in a productive way, in a manner of speaking.

My first impressions of Jimmy were that he was young (by no means the youngest person I've ever seen tapping but young nonetheless), that he seemed fairly bright and together and that he was pretty forthcoming. I told him that I would not write about anything he didn't want me to mention and he assured me saying, "Don't worry, I'll let you know if any of the questions are too intrusive".  As we walked into the Centra cafe together  (me slightly nervous admittedly as it was the first time I'd ever gone for coffee with a homeless person), he spotted someone he knew at the coffee machine. As  we were pouring our tea, the person he knew (an older guy) greeted him and I though I heard him ask Jimmy " Are you looking?" As it turned out, I had heard correctly and Jimmy referred to it later on during our conversation when I asked him what the toughest aspect of being homeless was . He replied, "staying clean" and said "You heard what that guy asked me".

So Jimmy it seemed, was a former heroin addict. He told me he'd been clean a year and was on methadone and attending a clinic in Castle Street. He was from Swords and had been on heroin since he was 14 and was kicked out of home by his Ma as a result. He had been living with his on-off girlfriend (though it was now very definitely off) in Naas but had no friends in Dublin he could stay with. When I asked him about this, he said,"There are no friends on the streets, only acquaintances". From this I inferred that he'd more or less cut all ties with previous 'friends' whom may also have been addicts, which must be a difficult thing to do in some ways. When I told him that he seemed like a bright enough guy and asked him if he had ever worked or had a trade, he told me he spent 2 years training as a chef but didn't finish the training (he didn't elaborate on the reasons for this and I didn't ask but presumably  it was related to his heroin addiction). He would love to get a job now he said but it wasn't that easy. When I enquired as to whether he was able to claim any sort of welfare benefits, he told me that there was a homeless payment of some sort which he could claim. When I asked him what his worst experience of being homeless was, he told me about a night when he was attacked and beaten up by 3 guys who spotted him tapping outside of the pub they had been in. I was fairly shocked by this but guess it's kind of an 'occupational hazard' particularly here in Dublin. I enquired as to whether the men were staff working in the pub but he told me that they were just a couple of guys who'd been drinking in the pub....At this point in the conversation, Jimmy was making moves to go and reminded me that he had to try get into a hostel that night. I asked him what he did if he couldn't get in anywhere. He replied that he just walked around the streets all night as the streets were too dangerous to sleep on.....

Chance meetings

Yesterday was a day of torrential downpours. The rain wasn't too bad in the morning but grew heavier in the late afternoon and combined with the gale force winds made for miserable conditions later on that evening. You'd have really felt sorry for anyone who had to be out in that weather or was homeless and as myself and a friend walked towards Temple Bar on our way to a swing dance class and past the group camped outside the Central Bank (an off shoot of the Occupy Wall Street movement), I couldn't help but be impressed by the fact that they were still there (several weeks later) and  feel sorry for them in their makeshift camp with tents that looked  pretty unsuited to the conditions.

Later on that evening, emerging from the class into the gloomy evening and the driving rain, I ducked into a doorway near my bus stop where I found myself standing next to a man, who judging by his appearance, which resembled that of a tramp-dirty, smelly, unshaven etc.- and the strong odour  of drink coming from him, was an alcoholic and /or homeless. I didn't want to ask him outright but in the ensuing conversation, he mentioned that he'd been homeless for six or seven years. He was remarkably lucid, good humoured and chatty and said he was looking forward to getting out of the rain and "having a can" when he got home.When I enquired as to where "home"was, he mentioned that he was staying in a sheltered housing unit for men in the Summerhill area of the city. Though he spoke with a strong Dublin accent, he told me that originally he was from Westmeath but that in Dublin, people thought he sounded like he was from the country and when he was in Westmeath, they thought that he sounded like a real Dub!

I didn't want to pry but I was interested to hear about his experience of being homeless and asked him what his experience of the homeless hostels he'd stayed in had been like. He mentioned that often there were 4-6 people in a room so there was very little privacy and that the general practice was to try to fill up the rooms as much as possible. Often, he said, people chose to stay on the streets because they didn't want to go into the hostels. When I enquired as to why, he told me that generally it was because of the problems that arose with so little privacy and the frustrations that arose from the situation-tensions leading to fights breaking out, stealing, drug problems and snoring of course! Some nights he told me the Night Bus (a bus which brings homeless service users to hostels/shelters when beds are available) would come along and pick him up and bring him to a hostel. Other  nights, there might not be any beds available and the Night Bus would simply turn up, supply him with a sleeping bag and drive off......

As we were talking, I wondered how old he was. I suspected he was in his mid 50s but he could just as easily have been in his late 40s. It was hard to know. Life on the streets and alcoholism had clearly taken their toll on his health and physical appearance as he was quite thin and his face was pretty lined. His teeth were in appalling condition and were black and rotten looking. We continued our conversation on the bus home (it turned out he was taking the 123, as was I) and chatted generally about things. He seemed sweet. When it came to his stop, he turned to me and asked my name and said maybe he'd see me again. I wondered if he was lonely. As he was getting off the bus, he looked over his shoulder and gave me a timid sort of wave. I wonder if I will see him again....