Understanding Homelessness, Humanity, and the meaning of "Woy-Aye"

Tom and Richard Hanging out in Front of Waterstone's

Growing up in Upper/Middle class suburbia as I have, I've noticed that a lot of us can't really comprehend homeless people as human beings. I can remember spending summers in Ashland and talking to a lot of these nomadic hippie-types. Some of them were very deep, very cool to talk to, and very open about how they saw themselves in the world, what their stories were, etc.. I remember one cool Ashlander who showed me his own 'private' cannibus farm hidden back behind some weeds next to a stream. He picked me off a leaf, which I still have hanging on my wall (not in honor of the cannibus, but in honor of what I take to be the implicit trust and the humanity of the moment). Perhaps before then, perhaps more since then, I've been a lot more aware of the homeless people around me. I'll talk to them if I have a moment, I'll wave. My sister definitely keeps tabs on this whole aspect of my being- I'd imagine if I ever said something negative about the homeless, she'd riddle me with guilt :-P

Perhaps unsurprisingly, because LSE is located in central London, there are homeless fellows on campus after a certain time of day. The homeless are never supposed to be allowed to sleep on campus, but there is one spot where they can- an overhang right in front of the Waterstone's bookshop (just facing the LSE elephant-- see earlier posting: Just What Kind of a Place is LSE Anyways?). They can stay in this location because it's not technically on campus! The space is a comfortable overhang that easily fits two, and because it's technically SURROUNDED by the campus, there are no cars that go by, which is a very important thing if you're a rough sleeper, as they call themselves.

Walking by this spot one evening, I met and greeted Tom and Richard, two really chill blokes who struck up a conversation with me, and before we knew it we were talking current homeless policy in the UK, and why it's so tough to be out on the streets, why it's difficult to get back on your feet, and why there are some people who spend their entire lives homeless.

The rough part is that once you're out on the street, for whatever reason, getting back on your feet is a process of making the first month's deposit on a place (this can take about 3 weeks of continuous labor with nowhere comfortable to sleep and few places to take a shower). This process is about as easy as quitting smoking- not many can go through with it, for whatever reason. While I recognize that a lot of homeless people are probably not quite right in the head, or hopelessly addicted to some substance (well, there's never not home, but that depends on the person, not on me), there are a number who are just depressed, or extremely down on their luck, and the latter seemed to define Tom and Richard perfectly. Richard's a brickayer by trade, but apparently lost all of his tools when he was evicted from his apartment at the fault of a roommate. He's been struggling to get back on his feet, so to speak, ever since. Tom had a story somewhat similar.

I've hung out with Tom and Richard a couple of times now, and because of them ended up signing up to volunteer with Simon Services, a Central London social service group that gives out food (and perhaps a friendly ear) to homeless chaps, but is really cool (Tom and Richard spoke very highly of this) in that the organization doesn't preach anything to the people it helps. Apparently this is a very desirable characteristic for any outreach organization in Simon Service's position: respect the HUMANITY of the people you're trying to help.

Every time I talked to Tom and Richard, we always ended up getting into discussions of how other people perceive homelessness. Perched in front of a doorway with students continuously walking by and often ignoring us, we were in an apt position to discuss what it feels like being ignored, and how important it is, ESPECIALLY for the rough sleeper, to be treated with some dignity. I feel for these guys, and something about joining an organization where I can offer to their fellow rough sleeprs the same sort of friendship that they offered me appeals to me.

Apparently a lot of social services (at least in the UK but I assume in many other places as well) don't treat the homeless very well. Police will wake sleepers up at 3 AM for 'headcounts' and tell them to move from where they're sleeping, and some cities (Westminster in particular) will engage in 'hot washing' which is a practice where they soak the place the sleeper has just been in so that (s)he cannot possibly go back to sleep there. Imagine trying to find a relatively quiet place to drift into an uneasy sleep (always have to watch your stuff on the street) and being woken up at 3 AM. Often when you move to another place, you get woken up again an hour later and told to move on. This sort of hostility is apparently justified because the city has hostels for the homeless, and always suggests that they can stay in the hostels, out of cite, neatly tucked away. The problem is that most rough sleepers are afraid of or uncomfortable in the hostels, for one because the administration forces paternalistic policies on the people in these buildings (too many rules, forced injections (though these probably aren't a terrible idea), forms and surveys to fill out), or because the homeless are afraid of other homeless people, and being cramped up in a room with 20-50 of them isn't really a suitable way to get a good night's rest. Belongings disappear.

Last Wednesday it was that I was heading back from the LSE gym and Tom and Richard called me over with good news: Richard had found a place to stay for the next 6 months, providing him ample opportunity to get back on his feet, and Tom was moving on with an opportunity of his own (a job I believe; I'll have to ask him). Richard say me down and forced a few glasses of beer at me and all of a sudden the three of us were having a party there on the side of the street, laughing, joshing at the people walking by, and talking about how complex of a language is Scottish. Other than my recent trip to Cumberland Lodge (more on this next time) I haven't had so much fun talking to two people in recent memory. Neither have I laughed so much.

Two points:

Homeless people are humans with the same liberal rights that we have. Most of them are as sane as any of us landed gents, and deserve to be treated similarly. They don't want much.. just a wave or a smile is enough.

Secondly:

If you're ever in the Northern regions, greet your fellow man with a "Areet" meaning "How's it gooing", then whenever he asks if you'd like another pint, or if you're cool with the local team (Newcastle is apparently the one to root for), tell 'em "Woy-Aye, man". It's cool, brother. Woy-Aye. Stay warm, sleep well, treat your fellow men with respect, laugh a lot, and always, always remember to say Woy-Aye.

Cheers Bros :) Best of luck in the future to ya Tom and Richard.

When you leave, "Tara" means goodbye.