Homeless Part 3 IP

10am and then it was out of the shelter for the day. While I was at the Men’s Home I was almost glad that I had to be out. At least I left very early, ie the majority of us stood outside for a while, drinking morning beers and smoking and talking about this and that.

Even though it is called the Men’s Home it is also for women. You don’t get a bed for the night though. The place is one enormous room with 4 or 5 cribs alongside one wall. The crib is a mattress in a wooden frame with a small roof on it for privacy- there isn’t much privacy and you have to be destitute to get a crib.
The rest of us would sit on chairs and sleep on and off as there was a lot of disturbance in the room.

The night I was there I came in late, about midnight and street life was still going strong. A woman in one of the cribs was not asleep and very unrestful. I was sure she was dying so I went over to her and held her hand while I moistened her lips with water. Eventually she fell into asleep and I relaxed a bit. In another crib an alcoholic was fast asleep after a days boozing I suppose. I put one of my knitted sweaters under the woman’s head and my poncho on top as a makeshift blanket. In the morning my sweater was gone but I managed to retrieve my poncho- thank god otherwise I wouldn’t have had an outer garment to wear now it was autumn and getting colder and colder.

During the night I sat next to a man who was obviously a foreigner- you never knew if they were here legally or illegally. I was sure that he was an undercover agent- again I was a little psychotic- so I watched every word he said and what I replied. In the morning one of the other blokes told him not to heed what I said because, as he stated, I was nuts, crazy, batty, off my rocker and I think I was a bit. However I was a bit confused, to say the least.

Very early in the morning a young girl came in- she was Spanish- she placed herself on one of the mattresses and began to try to take a fix. She couldn’t find her vein and sat stabbing her leg and ankle viciously- she was desperate. I told her that if she was to have an addiction to heroin couldn’t she smoke it instead. I had heard that was a much better way to tackle your addiction and less dangerous. She succeeded with her fix finally and then I was told not to address her as she was very touchy and could get really mad so I left her alone. I managed to wangle a cup of coffee from the staffmemeber- he was very kind and served me coffee in a plastic cup. Pedro came along and sat on my lap. A little man who kept telling me that we should go to his place but I had other plans for the day.

I certainly wasn’t coming back to the Men’s Home if I could avoid it so I set out to find the Maria Home for women. Oh I noticed that the woman I had nursed the night before had staggered out of her cot and hurried to the store to buy a strong beer. I was happy that she was okay but a bit disappointed that she turned out to be an alcoholic as well.. I should have known better but I was very naïve about living on the streets.

The Men’s Home was so desolate and there was no emotion attached to it- alcoholics, drug addicts and crazy people like myself.

The Maria Home for women was a completely different scenario. A small apartment in the middle of the city- a discrete place with beds for the night and a free breakfast of coffee, tea and bread with cheese or salami. You could also take a shower if you wanted to and that was most welcome after the grime of the streets. You had to get up at 7 and be out of the place by 8 and couldn’t come back until 9 in the evening and then your space wasn’t secure as it all depended how many showed up. But I was lucky while staying there. Even though I wasn’t one of the most steady clientele I was lucky to get a bed each time I showed up at the Shelter.

After a day on the streets a bed to sleep in was pure heaven, clean sheets, soft mattress and a warm duvet and then a shower in the morning with tea and bread and jam for breakfast- t’was a luxury. I was lucky. All these shelters are run by charity organisations and supported by the local council and the government. I never had to actually sleep in a sleeping bag on the street or under a newspaper. I chose not to and it worked out very fortunately.