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Simon Community volunteers providing food and human contact to homeless people on the streets of Dublin last week
December 5, 2010
VOL 27 NO 49
A blanket that offers no comfort to the city's destitute
The kindness of strangers barely sustains Dublin's homeless on these cold days, writes Michael Clifford. Photographs by Mark Condren
His choice is stark. He could go to a hostel, but that might mean trouble. Maybe he would make the trouble, or maybe it would be foisted on him. The alternative is to brave the elements through the coldest night of the coldest spell in decades. He's going to opt for the latter.
Out here on the streets, where the temperature will drop into the minus double digits, Paul will walk around until 2am, or maybe even 3am in order to keep warm. "I'll walk until I can't walk anymore and then I'll lie down," he says. "I have a spot in Merrion Gardens where I stay. There's people in an office there. When they come in the morning they always give me breakfast."
Paul doesn't want his photograph in the newspaper. Like many of those without a home, he is acutely aware of how his family might feel about being publicly confronted by the spectre of their sibling, offspring or parent living on the streets. He makes no bones about his plight.
"I'm an alcoholic," he says, an opened can of beer visible in the pocket of his jacket, as he sips the soup given him by volunteers from the Simon agency. He's not looking for sympathy, but like many others on the streets, he appears highly appreciative of the human warmth offered by the volunteers, as much as the soup and sandwiches. For a few fleeting moments, people from that other world regard him as more than an extended arm bearing a paper cup.
There is an eerie feeling about the streets. It is 8pm, Thursday, the forecast has it down to be the coldest night yet, and Dublin city centre resembles the aftermath of some kind of war. Pedestrian traffic is sparse. People move in a slow, cautious manner, suggesting weariness. Shutters have come down despite the arrival of the Christmas shopping season. The predominant sound is of feet slushing through the snow and ice. Here and there, snowballs describe arcs through the air as more adventurous souls squeeze fun from the freeze-up. The air temperature is dropping, but at least there is no wind.
The volunteers from the Simon housing agency have panned out across the city centre. Every night of the year, Simon, along with others like Focus Ireland, go out and meet the people who live on the streets. When the elements conspire to deliver inhospitable conditions, the plight of those who have no permanent roof over their heads is thrown into sharp relief.
There are five volunteers on the job tonight. They pack their bags with sandwiches and fruit and chocolate, flasks of tea and soup, and a rare treat, cartons of juice. The juice and extra sandwiches have been donated by schools which have closed down due to the weather.
They split up the runs. Two patrol down the quays, checking all the bridges, a favoured location for what the agencies describe as service users. The others head towards the south city centre, one of the more popular areas for service users.
Stranded foreign nationals
On George's Street, a man sits outside a shuttered shop, wrapped in a blanket. The volunteers ask his name and offer soup and sandwiches. He accepts. His accent is eastern European. At least half of the service users are now foreign nationals, largely immigrants who came in search of work and now are without. He confirms to the volunteers that he has a place in a hostel for the night, and will head there later.
"Some who do stay in hostels stay out late before going there," says Mary Lynch, the lead volunteer on Thursday. "If they have come off drink or drugs and don't want any hassle they wait until they want to go to bed. Some have concerns around security, but it must be said that many of the hostels have greatly improved in recent years."
A man of late middle age is sitting outside the St Stephen's Green Shopping Centre car park. He is protected by a sleeping bag. Like most of his fellows, he holds a paper cup. Jimmy has a place in a hostel in York Street for the night. He has been there for a good few months. He's going to hang on with his cup until around 11pm. "This time of year, I'm trying to get a bit together for a few clothes for the Christmas," he says. "Drugs is what put me on the streets, but I'm off the heroin a long time. It's still a struggle. I spend most of the time on my own." He's looking to move out of the city, long term, but tonight he's just glad that he has somewhere to sleep, in from under the stars.
Over on Grafton Street, John gratefully accepts the offer of sandwiches. He is wrapped in a sleeping bag, sitting beneath an ATM machine. He looks to be in his 20s. He has a place for the night, but he's also looking for a place for his Da. Mary Lynch tries to ring the Simon outreach workers who will organise a bed in a Simon hostel if one is available. A call comes through from the volunteers working the bridges. A couple on O'Connell Bridge also need a place. They're willing to split up for the night if necessary, just to get out of the cold.
If Simon has a place in one of its hostels, the outreach team will arrange it. If not, the volunteers ring the night bus operated by the Homeless agency in Dublin City Council. An arrangement can be made to pick up the service user at a particular location, although logistics dictate that it could be a number of hours later. The bus then delivers to a hostel, including the emergency cold-weather hostel opened in recent weeks.
There was some controversy last week over the restricted advertising of the location of the emergency hostel. Alice Leahy, of the Trust agency, said it was "plain daft" that the hostel wasn't properly advertised. The homeless agency maintains it was to ensure that the facility would be availed of only by people who wouldn't use existing services.
Despite the shared objective of tackling homelessness, politics dogs the sector. Trust is uniquely self-funding, and Leahy has long been a critic of the strategy adopted by Dublin City Council. In a press release issued by the Homeless agency last week, advertising the availability of services in the city as part of its Cold Weather Initiative, there was no mention of Trust's daycare centre.
Back on the streets, there are two more stops along Grafton Street, the second for a non-national man tucked up under the ATM machine outside an AIB branch. He thanks the volunteers and accepts a cup of tea and a sandwich. He has organised a place on the night bus. Apart from the sloshing feet, the air carries a rendition of 'White Christmas' being piped from the nearby Brown Thomas store.
Mary Lynch is surprised at how many people are out on the coldest night of the year. "I'm particularly surprised at how many are still looking for a bed," she said. "It's not the first night of the snow and you would have thought that anybody who wanted a bed would have got one by now."
Across Kildare Street from the gates of Leinster House, Reg is in good form. He is an old dog for the hard road, going on 70 and wedded to the streets. On his good days, he is full of banter and craic, but he has his bad days too. He's going nowhere tonight.
"You're not safe in a hostel," he says. "You go in a good person and come out a bad person," he says, in about as generalised a statement you will get on that side of Kildare Street. As the volunteers leave, Simon's rough sleeper team arrive with extra bedding for Reg, including a foil to insulate him. You don't tell people like Reg that his mortal prospects would be better served by getting in out of the freezing conditions. All you can do is provide some extra comfort, because he retains the dignity to make his own choices.
'I've been in every hostel'
Over on Dawson Street, Paul, whom we met at the top of the piece, is also in good form. The elements won't bother him, and he doesn't expect to be subjected to any hostility from human beings either. "It will be safe enough. There won't be anybody on the streets tonight. I've been in every hostel, but I haven't gone to one for the last five years or so, and I won't be going tonight," he says.
Locating accurate data as to the number actually sleeping out last week was not possible. The first stop of the day for anybody who does sleep out is usually one of the daycare centres. On Friday morning, Trust had to deal with far more than its usual complement of around 30 people. "We're choc a block here at the moment, there's a queue out the door," Alice Leahy said at 9am. "It's very hard to know how many people are actually sleeping out. A lot are in squats, which are often barely a step above sleeping under the stars.
"One man who came in here yesterday walked all the way from Greystones. He's living in a squat where the only source of heat is a one-bar heater. I'd be particularly concerned about people in the outskirts of the city."
At the time of going to print, there were no reports of casualties on the streets of Dublin last week. Whether such a positive result can be maintained throughout the cold spell will probably be down as much to luck as to the hard work of all who work in the sector.
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