PERSPECTIVE, the place from which we view something – use it or lose it someone once said to me. 

This is a very personal perspective on homelessness. 

No doubt it will challenge some people but just maybe, it’ll give us a different place to stand, an alternative view…

Boxing day at South beach, I’m having coffee with some friends. 

As we are seated I look over towards the new ablution block and there on the concrete is a family with three children; one little boy and two girls, sprawled out on a few blankets. 

People are walking past them. 

I feel compelled to go over and talk to them, find out what their story is.

While I’m talking to their mother one of the girls waves shyly at me. 

I’m told that they’ve been homeless since July when they lost their rental property and couldn’t find another. 

They landed at South Beach looking for a safe place. 

They don’t have a vehicle to sleep in and even if they did they couldn’t all fit.

“The sprinklers came on and soaked our bedding,” says the mother, “so we’re just trying to grab some sleep.” 

I ask if she’ll accept some money, that’s all I have to give.

I went back to try and find them the next evening. 

I couldn’t get them out of my mind and I’d been talking to someone about maybe setting them up in a tent on their block. 

The parents were at the BBQ cooking sausages, the kids were sheltering from the sun under a bush. 

I sat and talked with them, the youngest one, so bright, reminded me of my five-year-old grandson. 

The parents said their main concern was the kids safety. 

These weren’t addicts, just people who had a few bad breaks. 

They were worried someone had called the rangers and they thought that they’d probably be moved on pretty soon.

No phone, so I couldn’t keep in contact with them. 

I said I’d come back the next day and maybe be able to sort something out for them. 

I left them with more money and some sunscreen for the kids. 

Disappeared

The next day they were gone, disappeared into the urban wilderness…. they haunt me still.

Whose role is it to try and help them? 

The ‘authorities’ are really good at talking but don’t really do much acting.

The services that exist are doing their best but are overwhelmed (shout out to St Pats, please donate if you can!).

This is, after all, our community, these people belong to us. 

What is it that stops you?

What is it that motivates you?

For me it’s a stand against the helplessness and overwhelm, a decision not to turn away, to become involved. 

We are all aware of the homeless situation in inner Fremantle. 

Those with addiction and mental health problems do create a difficult and sometimes unsafe environment to be around, but we also know that’s not the full story. 

Who ‘deserves’ to be homeless and when they are homeless doesn’t that just create even more problems?

The guy who sits outside our local supermarket is a fixture. 

People give him food and money, he’s been homeless for a long time, no one knows where he sleeps, a harmless soul.

I enjoy talking to him, I know his name, I know some of his story, he’s real to me.

Should being homeless exclude people from our society? 

If they don’t belong here where do they belong? 

Moving people along doesn’t solve any problems, it just shifts them out of view.

If people are homeless then they should be visible, so that we can’t pretend that this isn’t our problem. 

I lived for a long time in the small community of Denmark. 

They now have a homelessness problem too – mostly people who can no longer afford or find accommodation but who have families and jobs in the town. 

They’ve set up a community-led Homelessness Response group, which renovates caravans and sheds and finds places for these people so that they can remain part of that community. 

There’s now also a project to build housing for essential workers in the town.

I like to say I live in a community not an economy.

My friend tells me about an elderly woman she used to see on the bus, who obviously lived nearby. 

Then one day she didn’t see her anymore. 

Sometime later she saw the woman dragging a trolley in which were her possessions. 

She looked bedraggled, and was obviously homeless. 

Was she a casualty of a landlord who thought it was OK to raise the rent beyond what someone on a pension could afford? 

The triumph of economy over community?

Anonymity

Perhaps it’s anonymity that is the worst price of homelessness; they become faceless, excluded. 

So how can we, as a community, as individuals, respond?   

Could we let kinship be our strategy? 

Can we acknowledge their humanity and dignity? 

Decide not to walk past them, say “hi”, ask their names, give them something if we have something to give?

Let them know that they’re seen; include them.

I go into Fremantle with my friend to get sushi for lunch. 

She’s got a line on everyone: “What can I get you? Do you need anything? Have you eaten?”

She doesn’t ask any questions, she just responds to what’s in front of her. 

She’s from South Africa, a place that puts your humanity, your ability to respond, on the line every day.

Responsibility, our ability to respond, use it or lose it! 

The simple truth is that we lose touch with our humanity the moment we stop seeing them, the moment we walk past.

by GILLIAN SAUNDERS