He’s homeless.
Dear Shelter,
I’ve lived on this street for nearly 2 years and there is one spot at the very top, right at the mouth of the high street, that you’ll find a regular spot for homeless people.
It’s the back patio of an abandoned office block, a space off the main street. The bannisters provide a frame to prop up bags, cardboard boxes - anything - to make a make shift tent. The floor looks unforgiving. There’s an alarm that constantly beeps the whole day, distant and inside the building.
Last year there was an old bearded guy ‘living’ there and, for a while, he could be seen roughing it in the summer. Nobody really cared. I certainly didn’t. I walked past him thinking he was probably there for his own reasons. The weather was warm… he didn’t look like he wanted to go anywhere.
The seasons changed and he disappeared… I didn’t bother to wonder where he went, although I did notice he was gone.
The season changed again and for that summer we didn’t have a homeless person. Maybe the odd drunk person who couldn’t find their way home the night before, but nobody permanent.
Around 6 weeks ago, the same spot was occupied permanently again; he’d covered himself with cardboard boxes and, to my surprised, I realised it was actually a different person - a much younger man.
I was shocked - I’d literally caught a glimpse of his young face as part of his flimsy tent bent under the strain… it hurt me that it was someone who looked like he should be enjoying the prime of his life but was roughing it on a windy, ice-cold street. He didn’t look all that used to being on the street.
But, like many people, I was passing him on my way to somewhere else and wouldn’t stop. Why didn’t I did approach him? I was afraid that he may attack me - that he might be mad or that he may be foreign and wouldn’t understand me. I was afraid he may be a drunkard and try to hurt me - without meaning to.
But this evening as I was walking home, late after work, I saw him… he was moving his things around and a part of me was relieved; I’d feared he had died in this freezing cold - the morbid thought had started to dawn on me a few days before Christmas as the freezing conditions began to settle in on the city. There was no movement for all those times I passed him in the mornings and afternoons.
Another part of me felt so sad. I don’t like seeing him there… and I found myself asking the question “if I knew how he ended up there, would I still feel sorry for him?”
The answer didn’t matter. I hated seeing him there… I hated walking past him all the time and doing nothing. My conscience had caught up with me. I decided I would try to help him. And this is why I’ve written all of this to you.
How DO you help homeless people? Do you go to the streets and find those who need you? Do you expect people to know to turn to you when they’re in his position?
How can you help the person I have described above? I want to know that he’s out of this horrid, terrible cold and soon.
Please let me know what I can do - who can go to his aid and get him off the street right now.
I don’t believe in charity - I don’t think that giving someone something fixes anything. I’m a firm believer in setting down foundations, in setting someone on the right direction to a better future. If I can take him somewhere he will be warm, fed, cared for - someplace he can start to rebuild his life… then I’ll feel like I’ve done the right thing.
I look forward to your reply.
Regards,
Chorna
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