The Homeless: Conditions

The homeless is a subject that is often treated superficially. Some people who write about it are well meaning, while others uneducated. But all in all, the homeless are a group in our society people would prefer not to acknowledge.

As we hustle about the street with our busy lives, the homeless are objects of annoyance, sometimes pity and generally disdain. Questions flit in our minds like: How can they let themselves come to this? Why don’t they get a job? Why can’t the government just put them somewhere so we don’t see them?

The end result is the homeless become social and political outcasts. Save a few people, no one really cares about them except at Christmas time. And I should know, I was one of them.
The next few blogs, this week, will focus on the topic of the homeless. When I started I didn’t realize how long it would become, so I broke them into themes.

From October 2002 to August 2003, I lived on the streets of Montreal. The only person to blame is myself even though 2 people had major contributions to my decline and will have to answer for their actions. And will be a subject of a blog in a future time.

Suffice it to say that I had a major breakdown in December 2000 which ended up putting me in a serious spiral. To be perfectly blunt, I was a toxic person at that time. The few friends that were there to help me could only do so much. The end result was I ended up on the streets.
One important caveat here. The following are my adventures in Montreal. What I experienced is not the same for different cities in different provinces and states, especially when it comes to the government. But there are some universal elements.

So I found myself at the Old Brewery Mission (OBM), a homeless shelter just across from the main convention centre. I ended up there because that is the only shelter I had knew about. As I found out there are others, like Welcome Hall and the Salvation Army.

The OBM is a non-descript five story building. The ground floor have the offices and the main cafeteria. The second and fifth floor are where the transients stay while the permanent residents are on the third and fourth floor.

The main floor, the second floor, has three dorms and two isolation rooms. The two smaller dorms are meant for the younger men while the large dorm is for the rest and it holds around 45 - 60 men.

The isolation rooms were for those that were sick or causing problems. These two rooms did not have any beds, the people had to sleep on the floor.

In the big dorm, save for a few single beds for the older, regulars, the rest are metal bunk beds. A thin blue mattress on the upper and lower bunk.

The regime is simple. The doors open at 6:30 - 6:45. The line-up starts around 6. They let you in and then you have to ‘sign-in’. There you have to give things like knifes, drugs, food, etc. If you had a bunk the night before, usually it is yours again. But don’t count on it. Then you go into the cafeteria to wait for upstairs to open.

Around 7, a line-up starts for going upstairs. Usually we would go up around 7:30. Into an elevator which holds four and have your name checked on a list. Once upstairs, you had to get in line to take a shower. And again, to have your name checked on a list while you get a towel.
After the shower, it was time to settle in and go to sleep. The lights would go out at 9. To come on at 5:30 to head back downstairs for breakfast. Because of capacity, you had to stand in line to wait to get into the cafeteria and when in, once again stand in line to get breakfast.

After a piece of toast, lumpy oatmeal, usually some sort of eggs and a weak cup of coffee, you were out on the street before 7 to start your day.

To say the beds were uncomfortable would be an understatement. But when you are in a dorm with over 40 men and not used to it, it is difficult to sleep. And then the problems having so many different men in one room.

There was one person who talked to himself incessantly. There were many a time he would be awake at 2 or 3, going on about the Pope, homosexuality, spitting on the wall, etc. Then there was the time when one guy was pissed off at another because of his snoring. He shook the bed violently causing it to collapse. Sending the guy to the hospital with a broken nose.

It is important to note that, generally the place was not violent. But tempers would flare. Even I almost lost my temper and started a fight. And some of the homeless are mentally ill and are not properly treated. A melting pot that can explode at any time.

So yes, many of the homeless have a roof over their head. But the conditions are dehumanizing. All too often it would feel as if we were just cattle being shuttled from one place to another. Always standing in line to get nowhere.

And we are at the mercy of the people working there. I lost my bed a few times because they could not find my name. I had been there the night before but they had no record so I had to wait and hope for an available bed, which was no guarantee.

The homeless are not in control of anything. Be it the kindness of strangers or the staff at the shelter, they depend on others. They have little recourse if they have no room or food. You quickly become resigned to the fact all you can do is exist.