I live in the Cook and Pandora neighbourhood, and I owe a debt of gratitude to the folks who frequent Our Place for helping me to overcome my fear of my own neighbourhood.
In particular, a man I will call Henry taught me the most profound lesson about people who choose street life. He has travelled a long, rough road, lost so much, yet has managed to get his life back on track with the help of our city鈥檚 many service providers.
A reformed criminal and a recovering alcoholic, Henry is responsible for designing and maintaining the Edible Garden project at the city鈥檚 Centennial Square. As the fruits and vegetables mature, he鈥檒l harvest the bounty for meals prepared at Our Place. The city donated flower beds for this project to help offset the facility鈥檚 considerable food costs, given that Our Place serves as many as 1,200 meals a day.
With a degree in agriculture from the University of Saskatchewan and a vast understanding of how to make things grow, Henry was a natural lead for the garden project. In fact, this project was part of his case plan that entitled him to one of the 45 transitional housing suites at Our Place.
Staying the course of his plan, prepared in consultation with a mental health clinician (funded through the Vancouver Island Health Authority), means Henry will move into a home of his own this August, courtesy of the Streets-to-Homes initiative developed by Victoria鈥檚 Coalition to End Homelessness.
Our Place works hand-in-hand with these and many other support services across Greater Victoria to help people who are hard to house.
Cautious yet candid, Henry helped me understand how addictions and homelessness can be the most desirable and accessible form of freedom for those shackled by mental illness. Now 13 years sober and determined to stay out of jail, where he spent seven of the past 10 years, Henry is managing his bi-polar disorder, which went undiagnosed for so long. In that time, he lost custody of his four children, too many jobs to count, relationships, money and any chance of sustaining a home of his own.
Homelessness costs the Canadian economy $7 billion per year, according to a recent report by the Canadian Homelessness Research Network and the Canadian Alliance on Homelessness. That $7 billion is our cost for emergency shelters, social services, health care and corrections. While the issue is complex, I highly recommend reading their succinct nine-page summary posted at homelesshub.ca.
The report-writers explain: 鈥淗omelessness is expensive because we cycle people through expensive public systems and increasingly costly and unco-ordinated emergency-services systems.鈥�
I believe the highlight of this report is not about costs or why homelessness happens. To me, it鈥檚 that 鈥渨e cycle people through鈥� silo-styled systems as a matter of dealing with, not resolving, people鈥檚 needs for stable, decent homes.
We know that poverty, high housing costs, a low minimum wage, poor nutrition, mental-health problems, addictions, chronic illness, as well as learned behaviours, contribute to homelessness. And we also know that homelessness and affordable housing remain key concerns for Victoria citizens, according to the Ipsos Reid City of Victoria 2013 citizen survey results, also just released.
Part of the cure is collaboration, which is happening here in spades. I believe the people of Victoria should take pride in the deep knowledge and highly effective network this city has created with its amazing web of supportive and transitional housing, outreach, food, corrections, social services, health-care providers and faith-based organizations.
The other part of the cure, as Henry helped me to better understand, is our ability to express basic human kindness for one another. Finding the courage, for example, to interact with people who live on the street is a major first step.
Just listening is, in itself, a true gift to give someone who is isolated and stigmatized by their situation. Caring may be challenging, unreciprocated, impossible to measure, but it can have a lasting effect for all involved and it only costs a bit of courage.
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Kate Hildebrandt is a writer and a communications professional who has worked in sa国际传媒鈥檚 health-care sector for more than 20听years.
