January 25, 2013
That mainstream political debate is ignoring the plight of this most vulnerable group of people is nothing short of shameful
by Giles Fraser
Our guests arrive at 7pm. Tonight we are expecting 23. Eighteen men, five women. For the most part, keeping warm has been the business of the day. Hot tea is the first priority. They take off various layers, seeking out a welcome radiator on which to hang damp clothes. Before dinner, the guests set up their own camp beds and duvets, choosing what part of the church they prefer to sleep in. The Sunday school room is women only. The men sleep around the font, or in front of the pews.
Tonight will be the fourth Saturday night my church has turned itself into a makeshift homeless shelter. Other local churches have taken responsibility for the other evenings of the week. The Robes Project does all the referral stuff for us. They set up in 2006, realising that there was no cold-weather, night-shelter provision between the Thames and Croydon. And back then things weren’t nearly so bad.
From the mid-90s until 2010, following a concerted effort from national government, the numbers of people sleeping rough steadily declined. Much of this effort was focused on getting people off the streets and into hostel accommodation. In 1998, Cardboard City at Waterloo was closed down. Thousands of men and women were helped to find social housing or private rented accommodation, often subsidised by housing benefit.
But from 2010 onwards the effects of the economic downturn has slammed all this progress into a dramatic reverse. In 2011-12, rough sleeping in England rose by 23% and in London by a massive 43%. Over the course of last year, 5,700 people were sleeping on London’s streets. “It is quite clear that things are getting worse and are set to get even worse still,” says Katharine Sacks-Jones, head of policy at Crisis. This week Derby council announced that it is to cut housing-related support by 81%.
Dinner is at 8pm. We have a food rota at the back of church. Last week the menu was chicken stew and pasta bake. Someone cycles in with chocolate brownies in her panniers. I take the candles off the altar and place them on a row of trestle tables. The priest in me thinks of the meal as an authentic form of Eucharist. Round this table there are no divisions between the guests and the congregation. Some wonderful local guys who once appeared on Britain’s Got Talent turn up and do a song and dance routine as entertainment. This is where the church feels to me most like what a church ought to be.
Lights out at 10.30pm, though many of our guests are so tired they have bedded down before then. Many are suffering with colds and the flu. The average age of death of a homeless person is 47. They are 13 times more likely to be the victims of violence than I am. I think of the two Big Issue sellers who were stabbed to death in Birmingham a few weeks ago. Last week, our clapped-out heating system failed at 1am. The cold began gradually to work its way up through the bottom of the camp beds.
The morning comes with breakfast. I make sausage and egg sandwiches. And then it’s time to set up for the Sunday service, with clouds of incense helping to mask the smell of sausages. Our guests then leave for another day of doing battle with the cold – not that it’s always helpful to emphasise the cold. It’s too easy to think of the homelessness problem as less pressing when the temperature warms up. The issue remains, whatever the weather.
Much of the rhetoric of our politicians is focused on how austerity is hitting middle-income families. Of course, it is. But it is the most vulnerable that are feeling the effects most acutely. And it’s pretty shameful that this is not a part of the mainstream political debate.
Source: The Guardian
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