Homelessness In Australia
Without Prejudice
" There's heaps of them ", she said.
" Heaps and heaps of them "
The grey haired lady with the cheery flower pinned to her lapel, told me. A Salvation Army Officer.from my local area.
I had asked her the question,
" How many people are there like that, homeless ?"
Earlier I had watched a youngish man come into the Salvos office. The lady Officer had asked him one question as he approached,
" Shower " ?
He nodded and she handed him a key.
She then helped me to my car, bags of fruit and groceries in her and my hands, for the needy.
I handed her some handbags from the boot, ones that I had gleaned from my collecting.
I returned with her to the office. As we did I asked her,
" Are they all on drugs " ?
" Oh, no" she replied with some vigour.
" Where do they sleep " I asked.
" Under bridges, parks, vacant houses "
I glanced up at the lowering sky and shivered.
The young man was back in the office already, he was so quick I stared hard at his hair to make sure it was wet, it was. In his hands he clutched new socks, a tee shirt, underwear. The new labels visible to me across the room. He proudly displayed them to the ladies present.
I climbed into my car, bemused and confused. She had said " heaps " of them. Heaps and heaps. In this day and age, in this country of ours, Australia. A seemingly wealthy country. To the rest of the world, anyway.
As I drove home I couldn't stop thinking about the young man and the Lady Officer. She had been so kind and optimistic to the man, so very non judgemental. Whereas I was sure my lip had curled in not disgust, but more a mixture of pity and hopelessness and curiosity. I felt sad.
That morning I had bemoaned my fate of being in a one bedroom unit perched like an eyrie behind my daughters solid brick house. I thought it was getting too small. One bedroom, an entry hall, a front porch with steps leading up, a big decent kitchen, a huge en suite. Mine for life.
I had a vista, a garden, maintenance free for life and as they are provided by the Government, beautifully, safely built, with all safety features and everything new, kitchen, bathroom, carpet and wired in smoke alarms and trip safety switch in case of a faulty fuse.
I walked slowly in and looked at my unit with new eyes. I examined everything. The solid door hardware, the strong safe doors, the blinds on every window, my terracotta pots aged with painted on yoghurt that ages like verdigris. And I thought of that man.
How much he would love it. My little slice of Paradise. How my nephew Chris had exclaimed at it when he came to visit.
" Wow," he had said.
" Wow, wow, double wow" he had said, with a smile from ear to ear.
My brother in law who lives in a mansion loved it. Said everything in it said " Janette"
I thought of that young man walking in to it. How pleased he would be to have even a roof over his head and I felt ashamed of myself.
It is fixed rent, a quarter of my income while I am on a Widows Allowance and peaking at 30 dollars a week more even if I earn $100,000 a year. And I do want now to go back to work now that Cruz has started school. My grandson.
My daughter in the " Big House" has eight kids, seven boys and one little girl. Not all live at home any more. Some of the older boys have moved out. Are working and have moved on. She had split up with her partner when I first came here, almost six years ago now. He soon returned but I knew it wouldn't last.
Just knew, and it didn't.
So it's been my job to help manage the family along with her and build a garden that the kids are proud of and a house they want to bring their friends home to. The older boys often remark jokingly that we had to wait for them to leave before things were done.
I did it myself. The plantings, the heavy work, the fertilising and watering and killing of weeds. The disposal of rubbish. Oh, the rubbish. The first hard rubbish covered the entire nature strip and stood eight foot high. The council took the lot, six years ago. Now a hard rubbish a measly 3M X 3 M and that is not a lot for two households.
But I digress.
I kept thinking about all those homeless people residing somewhere in this area. Maybe some like to be homeless. Maybe some are on drugs. But I watched a show years ago about the Salvos in Sydney who took some homeless men off the street and gave them a dwelling. A flat each.
And they kept a strict eye on them and all of the men looked after their home and themselves. It was amazing and surprising. Every human deserves a home. It's about self dignity and self respect.
Winter is coming, just imagine for a moment what that is like for the disaffected, and there will always be the disaffected, outcasts, unemployed, drug addicts, alcoholics. A society is best known for its non judgement of its frail. Elderly, mentally ill, the fringe dwellers. If only we had more affordable housing.
If I had a big pile of money, ( after looking after me and my family)
I would buy up a whole heap of units like mine and give to the homeless. I would make it strict, keep an eye on them and charge them minimal rent. They would be expected to keep it clean, tidy and safe. Nothing would please me more. I am grateful for mine.
None of the men in my life could house me. No matter how hard I worked nor how fair I was to them. Married 20 years, lost a child, my youngest. Engaged for ten years and lived with someone for five. No house for me.
I don't feel sorry for myself nor do I expect things for nothing. But to have my own place, that is mine, mine, mine is the best thing that ever happened to me and from today forward I will be Blessing each and every tiny thing I have. I cried the day they handed me the keys. Cried like a baby. I hope that homeless young man is one day similarly Blessed.
" There's heaps of them ", she said.
" Heaps and heaps of them "
The grey haired lady with the cheery flower pinned to her lapel, told me. A Salvation Army Officer.from my local area.
I had asked her the question,
" How many people are there like that, homeless ?"
Earlier I had watched a youngish man come into the Salvos office. The lady Officer had asked him one question as he approached,
" Shower " ?
He nodded and she handed him a key.
She then helped me to my car, bags of fruit and groceries in her and my hands, for the needy.
I handed her some handbags from the boot, ones that I had gleaned from my collecting.
I returned with her to the office. As we did I asked her,
" Are they all on drugs " ?
" Oh, no" she replied with some vigour.
" Where do they sleep " I asked.
" Under bridges, parks, vacant houses "
I glanced up at the lowering sky and shivered.
The young man was back in the office already, he was so quick I stared hard at his hair to make sure it was wet, it was. In his hands he clutched new socks, a tee shirt, underwear. The new labels visible to me across the room. He proudly displayed them to the ladies present.
I climbed into my car, bemused and confused. She had said " heaps " of them. Heaps and heaps. In this day and age, in this country of ours, Australia. A seemingly wealthy country. To the rest of the world, anyway.
As I drove home I couldn't stop thinking about the young man and the Lady Officer. She had been so kind and optimistic to the man, so very non judgemental. Whereas I was sure my lip had curled in not disgust, but more a mixture of pity and hopelessness and curiosity. I felt sad.
That morning I had bemoaned my fate of being in a one bedroom unit perched like an eyrie behind my daughters solid brick house. I thought it was getting too small. One bedroom, an entry hall, a front porch with steps leading up, a big decent kitchen, a huge en suite. Mine for life.
I had a vista, a garden, maintenance free for life and as they are provided by the Government, beautifully, safely built, with all safety features and everything new, kitchen, bathroom, carpet and wired in smoke alarms and trip safety switch in case of a faulty fuse.
I walked slowly in and looked at my unit with new eyes. I examined everything. The solid door hardware, the strong safe doors, the blinds on every window, my terracotta pots aged with painted on yoghurt that ages like verdigris. And I thought of that man.
How much he would love it. My little slice of Paradise. How my nephew Chris had exclaimed at it when he came to visit.
" Wow," he had said.
" Wow, wow, double wow" he had said, with a smile from ear to ear.
My brother in law who lives in a mansion loved it. Said everything in it said " Janette"
I thought of that young man walking in to it. How pleased he would be to have even a roof over his head and I felt ashamed of myself.
It is fixed rent, a quarter of my income while I am on a Widows Allowance and peaking at 30 dollars a week more even if I earn $100,000 a year. And I do want now to go back to work now that Cruz has started school. My grandson.
My daughter in the " Big House" has eight kids, seven boys and one little girl. Not all live at home any more. Some of the older boys have moved out. Are working and have moved on. She had split up with her partner when I first came here, almost six years ago now. He soon returned but I knew it wouldn't last.
Just knew, and it didn't.
So it's been my job to help manage the family along with her and build a garden that the kids are proud of and a house they want to bring their friends home to. The older boys often remark jokingly that we had to wait for them to leave before things were done.
I did it myself. The plantings, the heavy work, the fertilising and watering and killing of weeds. The disposal of rubbish. Oh, the rubbish. The first hard rubbish covered the entire nature strip and stood eight foot high. The council took the lot, six years ago. Now a hard rubbish a measly 3M X 3 M and that is not a lot for two households.
But I digress.
I kept thinking about all those homeless people residing somewhere in this area. Maybe some like to be homeless. Maybe some are on drugs. But I watched a show years ago about the Salvos in Sydney who took some homeless men off the street and gave them a dwelling. A flat each.
And they kept a strict eye on them and all of the men looked after their home and themselves. It was amazing and surprising. Every human deserves a home. It's about self dignity and self respect.
Winter is coming, just imagine for a moment what that is like for the disaffected, and there will always be the disaffected, outcasts, unemployed, drug addicts, alcoholics. A society is best known for its non judgement of its frail. Elderly, mentally ill, the fringe dwellers. If only we had more affordable housing.
If I had a big pile of money, ( after looking after me and my family)
I would buy up a whole heap of units like mine and give to the homeless. I would make it strict, keep an eye on them and charge them minimal rent. They would be expected to keep it clean, tidy and safe. Nothing would please me more. I am grateful for mine.
None of the men in my life could house me. No matter how hard I worked nor how fair I was to them. Married 20 years, lost a child, my youngest. Engaged for ten years and lived with someone for five. No house for me.
I don't feel sorry for myself nor do I expect things for nothing. But to have my own place, that is mine, mine, mine is the best thing that ever happened to me and from today forward I will be Blessing each and every tiny thing I have. I cried the day they handed me the keys. Cried like a baby. I hope that homeless young man is one day similarly Blessed.
