So I finished my second, and last, shift at the Crisis Open Christmas
centre early on the morning of the 30th. We were not allowed to take
cameras into the centre (for obvious reasons) but I want to get a
record of my initial reactions to my time there. I’m trying to work
out how I feel about the whole thing, lots of different emotions about
it all.
One of the things I feel about it all is a selfish
thankfulness. A thankfulness that I am not homeless, that I can come
back to my own place and go to sleep in comfort, make some food, turn
the heating on if I get cold. Watch a movie I was bought for Christmas,
read a book, listen to some music. All in my own place, without a
worry that it’s going to be taken away from me. I can plan things to
do, flick through Time Out and see what takes my fancy, see friends.
Think about going on holiday in the new year, and weighing up whether I
should go skiing or save the money as I’m looking to buy my own place.
All
this I take for granted. Without a second thought. The guests at the
centre I have met over the last two nights have been some of the most
intelligent, thoughtful and compassionate people I have ever met.
Somewhere along the line they made a mistake, some driven by personal
tragedy or a loss they were unable to cope with, others just very, very
unlucky. United now by their absence of anywhere to call home. And in
the case of the centre I was working at, united by a dependence on
substances of some sort.
So I’m thankful for my own position. I
look around and appreciate what I have a little bit more than I did
before I worked these shifts.
I’m also humbled by the work of
the other volunteers I met. People who are truly amazing in their
outlook, many of whom have been homeless and dependents themselves.
Gary, larger than life, who lived on the streets for seven years and
was addicted to heroin and crack for most of that time, has now been
clean for 3 years and has a place to call his own. He has worked for 7
nights, from the 23rd all the way through to last night and he has
loved being able to give back. It’s been hard on him, as it brings
back all the memories of what it was like to be homeless, but it has
found the whole experience amazing.
Jack, who drove down from
York and stayed with some friends in London so he could work for the
past week, 10pm until 8.30am, giving up his Christmas so other people
less fortunate than himself could have a few things we take for
granted, if only for a short while.
Chris, a recovering
alcoholic and volunteer, met two alcoholics who are desperate to give
up but just don’t know where to start. He’s been there and knows what
it takes and has talked to them. He’s taking them to his AA meetings
to get some help.
Dave, a guest who had been sleeping rough in
central London, had managed to get some temporary accommodation sorted
out during his time at the centre. It isn’t a proper home but it’s
indoors, warm and with his own room. If he can stay there for nine
months then the council will probably be able to get him a permanent
flat somewhere. For him, it was the perfect possible start to the new
year.
Last night a few of the guests got the microphone from the
karaoke in the main room and said thank you to the volunteers for
helping out. They knew what the volunteers had given up, and they were
amazed, touched, thankful – one a young man said that he had never been
to a Crisis centre before but he was so glad he came. It had made his
Christmas. The things that made his Christmas? Somewhere warm and dry
to stay, a bed, a blanket, hot food and drinks, people to talk to, a
shower, and some facilities to help him get on his feet. It’s not
much, but for him, it made his Christmas.
That’s the other thing
that struck me about my time at the centre. For many of the guests
there, this was the one time of the year they felt a sense of belonging
with other people. Kindred spirits to talk to, share stories, meet up
with old friends from long ago. Offer support to each other over hot
meals. Somewhere they can recoup, get a shower, see a doctor, get some
clothes, and seek some help, whether it be with some accommodation or
in there quest to get off drink and drugs.
There were some sad
people this morning, as they knew the week was coming to an end. Some
said that they had managed to forget their “real” life, if only for a
few days. For a lot of them, they will now be looking for somewhere
relatively dry and warm to sleep on London’s streets.
Another
thing I felt from my time here is more of an understanding of what
homeless people actually go through. Gary told me how when he was
living rough he had his nose broken twice while he was asleep in his
sleeping bag, from being kicked in the face by passers by. Then there
was the story of two city workers who set a homeless person on fire
while he was in his sleeping bag. He burnt to death. Alan, another
guest, was telling me how someone had stabbed him in the eye many years
ago, splitting it in two and blinding him on one side. I also noticed
he’d had part of his ear bitten off. They are, for the most part, a
forgotten people, and when they are remembered by society they are
derided, spat on, insulted and abused.
So lots of different
emotions, and as the days pass I’m sure they will settle and become
slightly clearer. But hopefully I will not forget, or take for granted
what I have. A sense of awe at the work of the volunteers, a sense of
joy that there are people around who give a shit and do their utmost to
help those less fortunate than themselves, conscious that it could be,
or has been, them in that situation. A sense of sorrow that there are
large groups of people for the most part forgotten or derided by
mainstream society. There may not be many cardboard cities left in
London, but a temporary hostel is not a home. The term “hidden
homeless” is an apt, accurate one. A sense of thanks for the guests
(and volunteers) who have inspired me, educated me, touched me in ways
that I cannot yet express, or comprehend.
The morning after, Elephant and Castle.
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