What it means to be homeless
Homeless in Hastings: What it means to be homeless
by Surviving Christmas Treasurer and local Clerygyman, Martin Harper
There is a phrase in the Old Testament 'My father was a wandering Aramaean'.
The Aramaeans were a nomadic people, moving from place to place with their flocks
and camels, pitching their tents adjacent to new pastures. But they were not homeless.
Their tents were their homes, and they lived with their families and kinsmen, surrounded
by their worldly goods.
According to those in authority today, there are no homeless people. Everyone -
and I mean everyone - has access to accommodation, even though that might be in
a hostel, bed and breakfast accommodation, or whatever. Therefore anyone who is
homeless, anyone sleeping rough, is deemed to be doing so by their own choice. Many
charities who have in the past helped the homeless have had their grants cut because
there is not supposed to be any need for them to meet. People providing short-term
help such as soup runs and sandwiches have also been criticised as acting against
the public interest and making it possible for people to survive on the street when
they should be in a hostel or some such accommodation. In a way, people who promote
this idea - of their being no homelessness except by choice do have a point.
However, there are a few who live out on the street - I will come back to this -
and there are many, many more who, whilst they may have a roof over their heads,
are nonetheless in my opinion homeless. There is a world of difference between being
roofless and being homeless. Very few people in this country today are roofless
except by choice. Many however are homeless.
What does home mean to you? I know what it means to me. Home is
where I go when I want to be with family, where I can feel safe and secure. Home
is somewhere where I have a front door and can decide who I do and who I do not
invite in. Home is somewhere where I can be warm, watch TV, read, cook, wash, and
do all the things that make our life complete and which we all so often take for
granted.
If you are living on your own, far from friends and relatives, surviving the best
you can on handouts whether from the state or others, then you are homeless. If
you live in a bed-sit or lodgings where your landlord expects you to be out after
7 or 8 in the morning and not to come back until 7 or 8 in the evening, then you
are homeless. If you live in accommodation where you are not allowed to have your
friends in, or where you cannot stand the people you are forced to live with, then
you are homeless. If you live in damp, unhealthy conditions, unable to pay the bills,
with essential services cut off or with a lack of food and clothing, then the quality
of any home you have is questionable.
Many of the people I will mention tonight might not be roofless, but they are often
homeless, friendless, unloved, un-cared for and in the depths of despair.
Last year we came across two young people in the doorway of a shop in Hastings,
begging for money. They were wary of us at first, because they thought we might
be the police. After we had provided some food, they began to talk. He had recently
been released from prison in Durham; she came from South London. They had been given
a bed-sit in Hastings just before Christmas - it was very nice (we were to see it
later) - it was furnished, had a small kitchenette, had a shared bathroom and had
heating. Unfortunately, this couple had no money - the DSS offices were closed and
the flat was ill equipped: no saucepans or kitchen utensils, none of the things
you need to survive even in a home. So they were begging for food, and money to
buy a hot drink. We were able to gain their trust and they gave us their address.
We returned later that evening with clothing, with pans and utensils, some basic
foodstuffs, and a few luxuries - razor, toothbrushes, soap and make-up. They were
overjoyed - just like a real Christmas she said, as they called in the occupants
of the adjacent rooms, and immediately shared their good fortune. A spirit of generosity
so seldom found amongst other better off people!
Certain
parts of Hastings and St. Leonard's have for many years been areas of great
poverty on a par with some of the worst areas of this country. A decaying seaside
town, Hastings has attracted many people for a variety of reasons. Thought by some
to be a healthy seaside area, Hastings has had attraction to many people running
care homes, whether for the elderly, children, mentally ill, etc. The town is also
at the end of the railway line from London and some people just end up there. And
as holidays in this country have decreased and people have sought holidays in hotter
climes, Hastings has had a surfeit of hotel and boarding house accommodation, much
of it not meeting the sort of standards that most people expect today. Combine this
with high unemployment and property prices far below surrounding areas, and there
is a recipe for need in the community. None of this was helped by the policies of
the eighties and nineties, with many institutions in London and elsewhere closing
in favour of 'community care' - a great idea, but so often meaning a lack
of care, where those who cannot cope are hidden away in substandard accommodation
to fend for themselves with little real support. And many of those people too generated
towards Hastings and St. Leonard's.
All this was very apparent in the eighties in Hastings, and some people began to
take note. But, as so often happens, much of it was just talk and not action. It
was in this climate that a new project was launched - small scale, just a drop in
the ocean, but aimed at a specific need.
It must have been about seventeen or eighteen years ago that a man called
Trevor Wilton met with Sharon, later to be his wife, and a few friends for a Christmas
meal. I believe it was Boxing Day, when this group of friends sat in by the window
in a seafront restaurant in St. Leonard's, to share a festive meal. Trevor and
his friends became acutely aware whilst they sat there, that outside the window,
walking past in the cold and rain, were a number of people who appeared to have
nothing - shabbily dressed, they were not at home, they were alone, and looked cold
and dejected. That experience was to change peoples lives.
I wonder how often we have seen someone in apparent need, and, unable to do anything
at that moment, have put it to the back of our mind? I know I have - the urgency
of the moment has disappeared and I have forgotten all about it. But Trevor and
his friends were different - they were genuinely affected by what they saw, and
set out to find out why these people were out in the cold and wet.
The answer was simple - people had nowhere to go. Over the Christmas period, the
tearooms and shelters they used throughout the year were closed. Yet these people
were homeless - not roofless - but homeless. And at Christmas, amongst the glitz
and glamour of celebrations, whilst most people were gorging themselves on too much
food, celebrating with families and friends, the towns throbbing with noise in the
pubs and clubs, there were a significant number of lonely, unhappy people many of
whom had to resort to walking the streets from morning to evening before they could
return to whatever shelter they had.
At that time there were also a number of homeless people in and around Hastings
as well. I remember discussing this problem at the Deanery Synod - I actually toured
the town on several evenings with Father Clinch - Fr. Click as he is often called
trying to find homeless people, and perhaps take some photographs, to resource our
discussions. We failed to find anyone - not because they do not exist, but because
they are invisible. This was brought home to me some months later when, recounting
the story to John, he offered to show us what we had been looking for. John, a gentle
giant of a man, had himself lived rough - you may nowadays see his frequent letters
to the Observer often about social issues. John tells me he reached rock bottom
when he woke up one morning in the Park with his beard frozen to the ground. Beside
him was the empty hairspray container he had been drinking from hairspray has an
alcohol content - and he knew that he either had to do something about his problems
or die within a relatively short time. Anyway, John took us out and showed us where
people were - which derelict basement was being used, which bush, which rubbish
skip. And then of course there were the caves and the squats. It was an eye opener.
Anyway, back to Trevor! Trevor and his friends did not forget what they had seen
that Christmas, but instead they started planning to do something about it. Trevor
was a member of the congregation at Christ Church, St. Leonard's - a church
which at that time had a great social outreach. A former curate, Fr. Mellor, had
been instrumental in starting the Fellowship of St. Nicholas working with children
in need. There was Our Lady's House, an old people's home, a thriving scout
and guide group, youth club, men's club, mothers union and much else. And a
Church School next to the church, with halls shared between church and school. Trevor
approached the Rector, Fr. Carter, with the proposal that we open the halls for
three days over Christmas, to provide food and warmth and friendship for anyone
who wanted it. And so a new project was born, called at that time Crisis at Christmas,
after the London project already in existence.
Like most ideas, they are fine as ideas but when you come to put them into action
you discover all the problems! Well, Trevor and his friends had little experience
of such a project. An appeal - mainly to the local congregation - elicited help,
but what was needed? And more importantly, who would turn up to use the facilities
provided? That year, there was a very steep learning curve - and people like John
were invaluable! Publicity was by word of mouth and through fly posters left over
the town. One of the two halls was set aside as a dining room as it had the kitchen
next to it. The other hall was transformed with chairs and other furniture to make
it homely, and a tea bar set up. Lots of people were persuaded to come along and
entertain - a pianist, singers, even a magician I think! People came in their dozens
and it was hard to tell who was a helper and who was there because they were lonely
or homeless or whatever. Father Carter spent all his Christmas, when not in church,
in the centre. Ann Moon and co. ran the kitchen - Ann was later to receive an MBE
for her contribution over the years. She welcomed all clergy into the kitchen (they
were expected to roll up their sleeves and help) but anyone else not on her team
was quickly shooed away!
Lots of mistakes were made, mainly through lack of thought and understanding! Imagine
what it must be like if you have not had a proper meal for months, maybe years.
Your stomach would have shrunk, your digestive system might have been ruined by
poor food and maybe alcohol or worse. To be sat down and given a large Christmas
dinner with all the trimmings - well, what would you make of it? Some just sat and
stared. Others picked at food - some tried to eat and were physically sick. People
came in all conditions - often with smelly, dishevelled clothing, and in need of
a good bath and a haircut! That first year we all felt so inadequate - we did our
best, but learnt so much.
Over the next few years the project developed. We ensured a doctor was available.
A clothing store was developed, and we tried particularly to get things like underwear
- Councillor Richard Stevens started his yearly sock appeal. Meals were important
we learnt to give small portions! But we also developed the tea bar, with small
snacks - \biscuits, fruit, sweets. Many couldn't manage a meal. We learnt not
to be social workers! One of the best things helpers could do was talk to people
- or leave them alone if they preferred. We provided a hairdresser and a chiropodist.
We found that cigarettes were important. Some people thought we shouldn't encourage
smoking - but when you are as low as you can get, maybe with problems about drink
and drugs, mental problems, lonely, cold, wet, and more - well the problems of smoking
are far outweighed by your need for a ciggy! Cigarettes were readily handed out
to anyone who needed one. So too were tins of pet food! Not that we encouraged anyone
to eat it of course, but we learnt quickly how important a dog could be to someone
on the streets. It was more than the sympathy vote, a means to get money - for those
on the street a dog provided both protection and warmth.
We also learnt that rules were important. No alcohol was to be taken onto the premises
- many were alcoholics, and a days drinking could lead to arguments and violence.
We had unalterable opening and closing times. We could not address some problems,
but could only offer sympathy and a listening ear.
Who came? All sorts of people! People who lived alone, people from different backgrounds.
There were people with problems - alcoholism was rife, so too were mental illnesses,
family breakdowns, stress, unemployment and much more - and people did not just
have one problem - they had a multitude of problems. There was Jim, who had a steel
plate in his head following a scaffolding accident, lvan who talked a lot to himself
but in the early days was quite presentable. Richard and one or two others who decided
they were helpers and for years have manned the doors, run errands and made themselves
a part of the project. John without whose help many more mistakes would have been
made. There was the gypsy family who arrived on Christmas day from Hollington complete
with pony and cart, the children cold, un-fed and having nothing, soaking wet and
hungry. Then there was the chap with the Alsatian - I'm not good with dogs,
but one year I spent hours at the vets with this flea bitten animal (not to mention
his flea bitten owner!) So many people and so many stories!
But
there were also the helpers - the teenagers that tuned up for three days to help
because here they found the real meaning of Christmas, away from the mountains of
food and the Queens speech and the family arguments. And a core of people who have
helped year after year after year.
And all this has been funded locally, through appeals. Never have we gone short
despite some panics! The project has been run on faith - and God has never let us
down.
Although the first years were in the halls at Christ Church, we later had to move,
first a little up the road to the old Congregational church (that's in itself
is another story) and then to the YMCA were we have been for some years now. The
project was given a more permanent nature - it was registered with the Charity Commission,
and as a result had to change its name to 'Surviving Christmas'. And, with
a committee and an annual meeting and all that goes with an established organisation,
it continued to develop its work.
Some things remain the same. Surviving Christmas still provides a place for people
to go for three days over the Christmas period. It is still funded largely by local
support, although it now needs not the few hundred pounds raised that first year,
but nearly twenty thousand pounds to fund the work now done. The tea bar is still
there, and the clothing store, and the friendship. We still have a hairdresser.
So what is new'?
Well the move to the YMCA itself brought some benefits. More space, better toilet
facilities, shower facilities and even a washing machine! But there were other developments
too, and these included outreach to people who could not get to the centre over
Christmas.
Firstly, there were the hampers. We had early on given goodie bags to guests as
they left us - a few sandwiches, biscuits, etc. But we also found that there were
many people in the town - some single, some elderly and some families - who had
nothing extra over Christmas. In fact, some families had even less food than usual
over Christmas. Parents will often spend all their 'social' on presents
for the kids so they do not miss out, and then go without food over Christmas. So
we started providing hampers containing a few tins, maybe biscuits, sweets, and
whatever else we can just to provide a bit of extra. Family boxes might also contain
the odd toy as well. These boxes are delivered by us over the three-day period of
the project.
Who gets these hampers? Well we get the names from a variety of sources - and the
recipients themselves are unaware of how they come to us. We have built up a good
network over the years, but not one I would divulge! Some people we see year after
year, although not always at the same address. They are usually extremely grateful
for what they get. Recently, as we have delivered parcels, we have also been able
to find out any specific needs, and often we return with anything from clothing
to baby food.
It is a tiring but rewarding task! And you never know what to expect. I think it
was two years ago that we were delivering a parcel to a single man in St. Leonard's.
Vicki went to the door with one of her Venture Scouts - the doorbell was rung, and
through the glass she saw a man approaching. It was early afternoon, and he appeared
not to have a shirt on. Through the door Vicki explained that she had a food parcel
for him - would he like to take it? Yes he would - the door opened - only to reveal
a redheaded man stark naked! The parcel was hastily left as he shouted thank-you!
Vicki assures me the ginger hair was definitely natural!
Another way people are helped is through food vouchers. Names of people come mainly
through social workers and the health team, and several thousands of pounds worth
of Tesco's vouchers are now distributed each year. They can be redeemed for
virtually whatever the person concerned wants, although they cannot be exchanged
for alcohol.
At the back of church is a small display. The photos were taken at last Christmas's
project, and everyone in the photos was happy to have their picture taken. But we
do not usually take photos - nor do we ask people who they are or why they have
come.
The project takes a lot of organisation, and needs a lot of money! But it is only
a small stopgap project, only there three days a year. It is no more than a band-aid
plaster - but it does meet a very real need.
I said I would return to those who live on the streets. The problem of homelessness,
or rooflessness I should say, does seem to have diminished but it is still there.
It always saddens us to find someone living rough especially when the project has
ended and those people did not know about it. This year, as the project drew to
a close, there was a man sleeping rough in the back doorway to Woolworth's in
Hastings. He had a sleeping bag, and we were able to give him some food. Another
man was in the foyer of Hastings railway station. A few days later, late in the
evening, we found a young man sleeping rough in a doorway in Western Road in Bexhill.
It was a freezing cold night, and he was just sitting there in his clothes, boots
off beside him. We think he had probably recently been discharged form prison in
the West Country. We managed to get him a survival bag to sleep in, and supplied
hot soup and some sandwiches.
Is the Surviving Christmas project needed? Yes it most certainly is. Things have
changed over the last few years, but there is, believe me, no evidence to suggest
that the need in this area has lessened.
Is it enough? No, not by a long way. And this brings me to the
last area I want to mention - my dream for the future, a dream I know I share with
many others, including Fr. Robin.
Surviving Christmas has, over recent years, through the co-operation of Hastings
council, been able to find accommodation for some roofless people who have arrived
at the project. But it cannot help those who have been through the system, and are
no longer welcomed by private landlords. Nor can we help those who have an addiction
and need sorting out. Hastings does not have a night shelter, nor does it have a
detox unit. Both are still desperately needed. How can you tell someone who is in
a bad way, with no money, to go to a shelter when the nearest one is Brighton, some
50 miles away? ,
Last Saturday I was privileged to be able to go to Brighton in company with a few
of you here tonight, to go to St. Patrick's to celebrate St. Patrick's day
with the most wonderful Mass and procession and lunch. St. Patrick's was a run-down
church, with a minute congregation, when Father Alan was appointed as their Vicar.
Many of you will remember him coming here to St. Michaels to talk about his work
last year. It started with Joseph and Julie being allowed to stay a night in the
church on a cold winters night, and has developed into a centre which has two night
shelters, temporary flat accommodation built in a four story block within the church
itself, new move on accommodation planned - and a wonderful worship centre where
new life has been breathed into the parish because they have found a purpose. I'm
told Philip and Elizabeth will be visiting next week!
My dream? A night shelter, possibly with a detox unit, here in
this area - Hastings or Bexhill. Where exactly? Well,
talk to Robin or myself after a drink or two and we might tell you our ideas! But
there are some obvious places in the area - large churches, centrally situated,
with small declining congregations and struggling to survive. Surely one of these
places could be put to better use? Not only could we provide a desperately needed
facility - we would breath new life into the worship side of the church as well,
making the church relevant to today's society, working as I believe God intended
through the social gospel, bringing good news to the poor, biding up the wounds,
healing the sick and making the love of Christ a reality.
And they shall say to him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or
thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and make you welcome,
Lacking clothes and clothe you? When did we find you sick or in prison and go to
see you?' And the King will answer, 'in truth I tell you, so far as you
did this to the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me.'
