'My name is David and I am homeless.'

national | miscellaneous | news report Thursday May 15, 2003 22:40 by David Homeless

One homeless person's account of life on the streets of dublin.

One night I was woken up by a Garda, by him booting me in the ribs, because, he said, “I can’t be arsed bending down and I don’t like touching shit with my hands!”

My name is David and I am homeless. I was asked to write a piece on the reason for my situation and my experiences of being homeless. This is it. I am sorry if it comes across as a sob story, it isn’t meant to and I am not looking for sympathy or for people to feel sorry for me. As it is things are looking up for me at last but it probably does come across that way because after a long time spent thinking about it, there aren’t many good things that I can say about it.

Contrary to popular belief homeless people haven’t brought the situation on themselves and do not choose to live that way, as is the case with me. After my mother passed on, I decided that I wanted to get away from Liverpool and go back to my home country of Ireland, (having left when I was six or seven because my Mum and Dad split up, my Mum being from Liverpool she took me back to be with her parents.) as I had no family left there, being born an only child and late on in my parents life (my Father had passed on two years earlier and I had no family in Ireland either.) I had nothing to keep me there and I felt I needed a change.

So when a regular customer at the wood yard where I was employed asked if I would be interested in helping him in his factory outlet shop in Clonakilty, Cork, I couldn’t believe my luck and jumped at the chance. Even better, the position was live-in. I could have the flat with rent taken directly out of my wages.

So three weeks later after working off my notice and moving across, there I was helping to run this shop, selling all sorts of stuff bought from the auctions and car boots in England to the public at discount prices. Looking back I suppose I should have seen it coming but I didn’t. The owner, as it turned out, was involved in dodgy deals galore; ripping people off and spending too much money on luxuries for himself that should have gone back into the business.

Four months later the place folded. I lost my job and my place to live in 48 hours, as no contracts had been signed (my own stupid fault). I had no comeback whatsoever. So that was it, there I was homeless. After discovering there was no help for homeless people in Cork (none at all, believe me I looked) I took the advice of a priest and headed up to Dublin with promises of hostels and welfare payments and help to get me back on my feet ringing in my ears.

These promises as it turns out were empty. I arrived in Dublin and with my last few quid booked myself into a hostel. One of the few times I was able to just walk in and do that. I was shown to my sixteen-man room and I just wanted to sleep. I was tired and to be honest scared about the future. So, being naïve, I put my belongings – all I had in the world – under my bunk and went to sleep. In the morning I found, to my horror, that all my valuables had gone, even worse, all my IDs with it. The hostel staff wasn’t at all helpful and when I went to the Garda they cared even less. In fact I was told, “What do you expect if you are going to sleep in places like that”.

This of course led to the problem of claiming benefits that I am only now six months later sorting out. No ID and no address equal no dole. So I was left to do the best I could. The hostels are not easy to get into. There are huge waiting lists for the permanent ones and the emergency ones are on a first come first serve basis. So if you manage to get through to the telephone line before all the beds are taken you get in. If not, tough luck, try again tomorrow. And you have to pay between €4 and €13 a night. Not much, but it is when you haven’t got it. Sometimes when you get in you wonder if you would have been better not bothering.

One hostel I was in charged €23 a week, money which I had to beg be given to the one member of staff who looked after us. The place was filthy and consisted of 15 mattresses and dirty sheets on the floor. The toilet was in the cooking area and had a habit of backing up and spilling sewerage all over the kitchen floor. The shower didn’t work and there was no heating, so it was as cold if not colder than outside. The thing that made up my mind to leave was when we all discovered that the cost of the hostel was actually €15 a week and the member of staff was actually overcharging us by €8 each a week and pocketing the rest. That night he came to work pissed and threatened everyone with a telescopic baton to keep quiet. I left the next day and now only use the hostels when I need to.

Whilst sleeping rough I’ve been robbed, beaten up, pissed on, had my shoes stolen and all other sorts of stuff. The list of names I’ve been called is endless and all of this just for being down on my luck. Not many people stop to help when this sort of thing goes on. Even the Garda get in on the act. One night I was woken up by a Garda, by him booting me in the ribs because, he said, “I can’t be arsed bending down and I don’t like touching shit with my hands!”

All in all my time being homeless has been horrible. I have been lonely, abused and given help by very few people. There are homeless people like me who aren’t drug addicts or alcoholics and do want to get on in life. It is just hard to get started back up the ladder. I will say that I have met a few people who do help and am eternally grateful to them because they alone have helped me through this time of trial. Just ordinary people. Like I said things are looking up for me now and in a few weeks I will have a roof and be back at work. All I can say is someone needs to take a long hard look at homelessness because the way things are at the moment things are never going to get better.

David