Jimmy Sarasin wants to be as trusted as Rev. Al Tysick was.
When he was struggling with addiction and living on the streets, Sarasin could count on the street pastor to drop by every morning with coffee and a couple of cigarettes.
“No matter where you were, whether you were at Paul’s Motor Inn or down by the bottle depot, at Rock Bay or in front of Our Place, everybody knew: ‘It’s 6 a.m., Al’s going to be by with smokes and coffee.’ ”
Sarasin is trying to bring that same level of trust to his new job. He’s one of two Pandora corridor “caretakers” hired to clean up the chaotic 900 block of the avenue.
The pilot program, run by SOLID Outreach Society in partnership with the City of Victoria, is funded with a $125,000 grant from the Union of sa国际传媒 Municipalities.
As Sarasin and his co-worker, Katherine Francis, gain the trust of those struggling with addiction and in need of a place to live, it’s making a major difference.
“There are fewer tents. The block is cleaner and quieter,” said Fred Cameron, SOLID’s director of programs.
“If you walk down there in the afternoon, there’s a better mood and it’s much less crowded than it was even a few short months ago.”
Grant McKenzie, director of communications for Our Place, has noticed a definite change since the two started in mid-November.
“Their mandate was to clean up Pandora and they are definitely doing that. There are fewer tents and fewer people hanging out by the side of the road. So I think that’s very positive for the visual aspect of people driving down or walking down Pandora. I’m sure it’s also good for the businesses that are on the street,” said McKenzie.
“But it’s a band-aid. It’s not solving homelessness or moving people into housing. They’re doing what they were mandated to do. They’re being successful.”
Both Sarasin and Francis are in recovery. Sarasin has been clean for four years. Francis overcame a long-term addiction and has been on the board of directors of SOLID for three years. They’ve been working on the block since Nov. 15 and are making connections with people.
“The response has been absolutely amazing,” said Cameron. “People know them by name. They come looking for them if they’re off at a meeting. And we’re getting a great response from some of the neighbours as well.”
Sarasin works Monday through Wednesday. Francis works Wednesday through Friday. They start work early, arriving around 7 a.m. to assist in interactions between police and bylaw officers and people camping on the boulevard.
Sarasin, who is instantly recognizable with his black Mohawk and silver hoop earrings, stands between the two groups.
“If they want them to comply with certain things, I’m willing to get down and help them fold their tarps or pack their stuff up, whatever they need. Sometimes, they just need their shoe tied and a cigarette,” said Sarasin. “But our end goal is boots on the ground, making contact, making connections, staying connected and getting them into housing.”
Sarasin and Francis help people pack up their tents and move their belongings to a safe place for the day. They’re also allowed to retrieve possessions that have been impounded by bylaw officers, something they’ve done “frequently,” said Francis.
The bylaw officers have a legitimate process and people who are camping are given fair warning, said Francis.
“They just don’t show up and take your stuff. Some of the bylaw officers are former outreach workers. They are bound by regulations and sometimes that comes across in a negative manner, but I can assure you, they care about these people,” she said.
Sarasin said he has seen some “total fails” with bylaw, but he hopes that as they continue working together, the process will change.
“When they seize people’s tents, they don’t keep it. They turf it right out. They say they can’t store the tent because of mildew issues. That’s the guy’s shelter. They seize his shelter. They seize his stuff. It takes me a day to get his stuff back, which I do. And they don’t want to release this stuff unless it’s to a lawful park. They don’t want it to go back to the block,” said Sarasin.
“Now the guy’s sitting in the park with all of his belongings, a slave to his belongings. He’s got no coverage for them. They’re going to get stolen. So what’s he going to do? So. Bang. He’s back to the block or he’s going to Walmart to steal another tent. That’s a huge fail. The guy’s back on the block.”
When bylaw officers impound a tent, they put yellow caution tape around it, usually after they have approached the person two or three times, said Sarasin. They separate people’s belongings into things they can reclaim and other stuff they deem garbage.
“I try to stay ahead of the yellow tape,” said Sarasin.
On Thursday, he headed downtown to buy a tent for a woman whose tent was seized while she was in the washroom.
“They kept some of her stuff so she can get it back, but it is what it is, right? I’m going to get her a tent out of my own pocket right now so she has shelter.”
How bylaw officers interact with people in the morning sets the tone on the block for the rest of the day, said Sarasin.
“If they’re harsh and people are dishevelled and they’re not ready to go and they get their stuff taken, that’s translated into how the flow of the block is going to be for the rest of the day. People are choked.”
One of Sarasin and Francis’s jobs is to refer people to supervised consumption sites, medical outreach and counselling.
“We sit. We talk. We listen. We learn people’s stories. We share our stories and build a really strong trust with people. We give out as much information as we can about resources. We can assist with referrals and point people in the right direction,” said Francis.
“Every single person we speak with is in a different position and has different needs, so we learn to acknowledge those respectfully and ask if they would like assistance. We do whatever we can.”
Sarasin said they give people a “sense of inclusion and dignity.” “And they know I understand all the sh-t they are going through because I’ve been through it.”
Their recovery gives people hope that they, too, can overcome their addictions, he said.
When extreme weather is in the forecast, Sarasin and Francis let people know about day warming shelters and overnight shelters.
If Sarasin hears there are bad drugs on the street, he’ll ask people for a sample of their drugs, then get it tested and let the community know right away if they need to be vigilant.
“Nobody wants to hurt anybody, but a lot of their sources are contaminated,” he said.
Both have advanced overdose and first-aid training. They are able to respond quickly when someone has an overdose. When someone goes down, they let people know what drug that person was using.
Recently, Sarasin has been training people in church groups how to use Naloxone to reverse an overdose. He also gives refresher courses to people on the streets to make sure they know how to properly administer Naloxone.
The two have also helped Victoria police with four missing-person files.
Sarasin and Francis aren’t working alone. Public works employees come down and clean up first thing in the morning. A street sweeper cleans the roadway. A pressure washer cleans the sidewalks every morning.
A team from SOLID cleans up discarded needles. Another SOLID team picks up garbage every afternoon. Because Our Place closes its doors at 6:30 p.m. and its washrooms are no longer available, Sarasin and Francis are advocating for a public washroom in the area.
Both walk around carrying heavy backpacks filled with harm-reduction supplies, hand warmers, Naloxone kits, cigarettes, crack pipes, condoms and cannabis replacement therapy — a joint and a CBD gummy — to help people with pain and withdrawal.
And they help in ways no one expected. On a chilly afternoon, a senior called Lucy rushed up to Sarasin and gave him a hug.
“He got me this walker. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have this walker,” said the senior, who lives nearby and hangs out on the block. “My walker blew a wheel and Jimmy said: ‘Do you need a new walker?’ and I said: ‘Of course.’ He had me a walker in half an hour.”
Although their mandate is to clean up the 900-block of Pandora, Francis said their number-one goal is to treat people with respect and dignity.
“We both have experience with substance abuse. We’ve both overcome addiction and this is really close to home for us. It’s also what makes us really good at our jobs.”
Sarasin said the job is keeping him accountable to himself, his children and his community.
“I know it sounds clichéd, but I’m trying to be the change I want to see. And this is working. The inclusion and interaction we’re giving people, that’s what is changing things.”
The pilot project continues until July 31.
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