hot…
Beanie cellars has an ample supply of coffee today… and, I do believe some chocolate muffins have magically appeared… Happily we have company to help us munch them, as one of our volunteers has popped in out of the rain.
Lets see what she has to share with us today.
We often go walkabout in town, and the number of homeless people we see seems to be more every time we visit. The new ones sit, eyes cast down and obviously scared to make contact. But we have made some friends amongst the 'regulars', although it takes a lot of time and a gentle approach to gain their trust!
Today, we went over to speak with Mike...
Jemima spots us first, she always knows who her friends are.
Tail wagging, an expectant look in her eyes, excitement growing as we draw
nearer.
Our Volunteer continues…
She lies at the feet of Michael, the bond between them both
is strong. Jemima gets the first hello and a huge lot of fuss before I see
Michael’s face.
Michael is young, mid-twenties. He has a cherubic face and
grins readily, displaying his rotted teeth. He’s often hunched over and doesn’t
easily make eye contact until he knows you’re on his side. His face and hands
are weather worn, more suited to an old man than the boy before me. His ripped
and dirty top now familiar and almost a part of him. He sits, as ever, in the
same place, his few small bags beside him and his only comfort, a ripped and
tattered blue sleeping bag.
He’s softly spoken, shy and very polite. He doesn’t like
asking for anything so wants to earn his keep. He borrows a friend’s iPad and
plays Magic Piano in the hopes of a few pence, a sausage roll or a bottle of
water.
He hasn’t done well today. 19p sits in his pot. I hand him a
small carrier bag with a few essentials, ‘presents’. Of course, the most
excited he gets is for the dog food and dog treats, it’s always about Jemima.
He was scared today, very scared. He has no money left, he and Jemima haven’t
eaten and the shops are soon closing, there will be nobody left around to
notice him.
We talk, he’s a good conversationalist. In another life, he’s
be the bloke everyone likes and wants to spend time with.
The last time we met, he’d told me how it had rained so much
lately that he’d not coped well. Today, he spoke more about that problem.
“The rain brings out the hard nosed people, or it makes them
hard nosed. Nobody wants to stop in the rain, they rush past.”
Our rainy summer has brought a lot of hunger for Michael. He
told me of how there was a period of time last year when he and Jemima were
“…starving, so starving”. He managed to get a little food but there wasn’t
enough to share, so he gave it all to Jemima and went without. He tells me this
as he is ripping off bits of his cheeseburger for Jemima, even though she has
dog food and sausages. It’s become a habit, he shares with her without a second
thought.
Rain and hot weather are the times he suffers most. People
assume that he’s ok in the summer, that he needs nothing because it’s not cold.
He’s hungry, he’s lonely, he’s in need of clean clothes and a shower. In many
ways, he copes better in the winter, people are kinder. The cold weather brings
out their compassion. There seems no logical reason for this.
Michael talks a lot about being invisible, about people
simply not seeing him. This seems to be the hardest aspect for most homeless
people. Yet, this invisibility happens whatever the weather and seemingly more
so during the summer. Whenever you stop to talk to Michael, you can bring food,
clothes, toiletries, whatever you do, he always thanks you for simply stopping
to talk. Nobody stops in the rain, nobody glances at him during the summer.
“What would make it easier for you during summer?” I ask. I
asked this same question the last time we spoke, he gave the same answer.
“Hydration.”
He struggles, as we all do with keeping
hydrated in hot weather, but trying to find water can be an impossible task.
Water. A commodity we take so for granted as it drips from our taps and we
spend too long in the shower or, during those summer months, simply splash it
on our faces for some instant relief.
Michael, like all homeless people I’ve met, doesn’t ask for
much. He doesn’t ask for new shoes or a room. He asks for water. He asks for
people to see him.
I look around, bearing in mind the invisibility. I see
people looking and smiling at us spread across the pavement eating and
drinking.
They are smiling at me.
Nobody makes eye contact with Michael, nobody
says hello to him. They don’t see him and I don’t understand how that’s
possible.
“In the summer, I can sit here for 6 hours playing this
before I get a single penny or anything to eat”. He says that has happened too
in the snow, but it’s almost normal during warm weather.
I can see Michael is exhausted, he watches as the streets
empty and the shops close up. It’s time to part ways until next week. A hug and
a request that he looks after himself is responded to with, “I’ll be OK, I’ve
got you.”
I reluctantly leave him, look forward to getting home to a
cup of coffee, a comfy seat and relaxation. And of course, water. All the water
I need, it’s here all year around.
Thank you to our lovely volunteer, and thanks to Michael for sharing.
Life is hard on the streets in summer. People don't think about what its like to sit in the heat all day and worry about getting a drink of water. Or sit in the rain, and see the chance of a few pennies for food become an impossibility.
Here at Beanies we try to raise awareness of the problems faced by our homeless friends. We work with outreach charities, helped by donations through our webpage.
You can find us on Twitter as @beanies_masato, or, if you would like to look at our web page, you can follow this link
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