July 31- Aug 3, 2008
My thanks for support and editing goes to my beautiful wife,
Mitra Remy Jordan
“The power of being out on the streets is that once you are out there for a few days, even though you still think you belong to that world you perceive around you (the middle class world of people who wear clothes like you, have a wallet or a purse, credits cars and a car),
you pretty quickly pick up that world is no longer mirroring affirmation back to you. If anything, you become invisible. It is a powerful experience which people of color, poor people, women in the work place and prisoners have been experiencing for a long time… Your references points about who you are and where you fit in the world dissolve very quickly.”
-Sensei Fleet Maull
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=Zu_phWPK-1E
CONTENTS
Introduction
Why Do A Street Retreat in Victoria?
Prior to the Retreat
Thursday -- Retreat Day 1
Friday -- Retreat Day 2
Saturday -- Retreat Day 3
Sunday -- Retreat Day 4
Sunday -- After The Retreat
Postscript: Wednesday -- Three Days After the Retreat
Vancouver Downtown Eastside Street Retreat 2007 & Victoria Street Retreat 2008
Introduction
On Thursday, July 31st, 11 people met to participate in a Buddhist retreat on the streets of Victoria. The group was led by Grover Genro Gauntt 
from the Zen Peacemakers Order based in New York. Genro has led over 25 street retreats in cities all over the world; of these, Victoria is the smallest city. The retreat participants were a diverse group: an equal number of men and women, they varied in age from a high school student to folks in their mid-fifties. Some had meditation experience and some did not. One participant was a full time monk living at a dharma centre. One person was wheelchair bound. Four of us had participated in last year’s street retreat in Vancouver’s downtown eastside
We lived on the street of Victoria for 4 days and 3 nights. We were only allowed to take a few items: the clothes we wore, comfortable, closed shoes (we did lots of walking), 1 piece of photo ID, bus fare home, a small backpack, a rain poncho, a water bottle, glasses (if needed), a blanket and small plastic sheet to sleep on. We left behind all the items that are inherent to our usual identity: clean clothes, watches, jewelry, money, credit cards, contact lenses (no clean place to change them on the streets), and cell phones.
The retreat had a few rules:
Sleep outside and not in shelters
No drugs or alcohol
Stay together as a group or with at least one other person
Always tell the truth -- if asked, talk about being on a street retreat
Each person will have paid a minimum of $400 to attend the retreat. This money has to be raised by asking friends and family to donate to support your participation. Two-thirds of the money raised goes to agencies working with people on the street. In this way the group compensates the shelters and other street services the group used during the retreat. One-third of the funds are provided to Genro’s group to support their activities in New York.
My description of the retreat reflects only my experience and memories. It is a powerful experience for each person on the retreat. I have avoided getting into details about the experience of others.
Why Do A Street Retreat In Victoria?
Last year I had the opportunity to participate in a street retreat in Vancouver’s downtown eastside. I went on this retreat because I was sexually abused as a child. Many of the people living on the streets have suffered childhood abuse. Attending this retreat was a way for me to explore and better understand a path which my life could have taken.
The retreat in Vancouver was very powerful for me. I knew I wanted to try the experience in Victoria, because Victoria is my home. I was born here and have lived here my whole life. I attended South Park Elementary, Cedar Hill Junior High, Esquimalt High and then UVic to get my BFA (painting). I co-founded PureEdge here and sold it to IBM here. My wife, Mitra, and I were married at the Victoria Art Gallery just over 11 years ago. Our three children were all born here and attend various schools. Now, two of my kids are attending the same elementary school which I attended as a child. My sister and father still live here and my mother died here 9 years ago.
My history is etched into Victoria. However, I have never been homeless in Victoria.
At each point in my life, I have seen the city differently. But, I have never had the chance to see the city through the eyes of those living on the streets. What does that city look like? How does my home treat people living on the streets? How can I better connect to people living on the streets of my home?
I struggle to connect with people that I see on the street. I am filled with feelings of shame, discomfort and fear. I wanted to explore these feelings and see where they took me.
Prior to the Retreat
My experience preparing for the retreat this year was similar and different from last year. Like the previous year, I had to raise my donation in order to attend the retreat. I was honored to receive support from many people. People often said, “I believe what you are doing is important. I don’t think I could do it, but I am happy to support you in doing it.”
This year, I also organized the retreat. Much of my activity in this role was similar to organizing any other event. However, something that I found very different about organizing a street retreat was how potential participants would engage. I had several people who talked to me saying that they were really very interested in joining us on the retreat. We would talk and I would send them the follow-up forms and information. Then I wouldn’t hear from them again. In the capacity of organizer, I talked to many people about the retreat and I started to believe that as a society, we struggle with our own feelings around issues of homelessness and poverty. As a result, we are rarely balanced in our responses -- we are either overly positive or overly negative. I have often noticed this kind of over-reaction in my own responses to issues that I struggle with (including this issue) and here it seemed to me that I was witnessing society’s same struggle.
I made a mala again (Buddhist prayer beads). I wrote the name of each person who had donated to my street retreat participation and put them on a string. I had 61 beads, plus one bead for Darius, Alizeh, Kiran, Mitra and other family. Darius was quite upset that I wouldn’t have my cell phone. He felt very cut off and worried. I made him a small mala as well. When I got back from the retreat, he told me that he had hardly ever taken off his mala and had even slept with it own. He had kept me close to his heart.
Five days prior to the retreat, we stopped washing our hair and shaving.
Genro arrived in town two days before the retreat started. That evening, he joined the Victoria Zen Centre meditation group at UVic. There were about 35 people in attendance. We followed the usual order of events -- three 15 minutes sessions of meditation followed by a discussion with Genro about street retreats.
Genro described how the street retreats came about. He explained how teachers have always tried to find new ways to teach students to drop their preconceptions and be fully present in the world. Street retreats are one more way of teaching. The first street retreat was conducting by a Christian minister in Chicago. He was teaching a group of students to become ministers and work in some difficult areas of Chicago. They were just about to finish when he said to them, “I have one last assignment for you. Leave all of your belongings here in the church. We will lock them up and I want you to survive on the street for the next few days.” The students left all of the things that help to define their identity and went out into the streets. The first thing they did was go knock on the doors of other churches and explain that they were ministers and ask for food and a warm place to sleep. These churches locked their doors and the ministers learned their first lesson from their street retreat. One of the people influenced by this teaching was Bernie Glassman. Bernie is a Zen monk and was inspired to use this approach to teach his students, including Genro.
The day before the retreat, Genro and I reviewed the materials that I had assembled for the group (consisting of some Buddhist chants, a map, a list of places to eat and a list of religious services). After looking over our possibilities for food, I sent a note to the group suggesting folks to arrive with full stomachs because we didn’t know if we would get dinner on the first night.
Thursday -- Retreat Day 1
We met at 3 pm at South Park School. I had chosen this location because it was easy to find, close to downtown and surrounded by nice parks where we could sit for our initial meditation, discussions and orientation. I had these ideal visions in my head of sitting in one of the near-by parks with the group meditating as we begun the retreat. However, this was not to be the case! After many weeks of nice weather, it started to get progressively wetter on the days leading up to the retreat. On Thursday morning, I woke up to an overcast day. By the time we met at 3 pm, a steady rain was falling. My hopes for how the retreat would start were quickly dashed. We gathered the group and looked for a dry to place to start and a wheelchair accessible bathroom.
We walked to the Royal BC Museum. We used the washrooms and found a sheltered place on the side of the museum. Once gathered, we did an initial 30 minute meditation and then Genro provided an orientation about the retreat. Genro gave us some helpful tips like remembering to be mindful of what is around us. In a Buddhist context, there is much discussion of being mindful as a path to living a more awakened life. However, on a street retreat mindfulness is a way to remain safe. Genro advised people to ask homeless about the best places to eat and sleep. They are the experts. Also, he reminded us to tell the truth and say we are on a street retreat.
Around 7 pm, we walked into town in a light rain. We first went to the Pandora Centre as our list of food services indicated that they served coffee, food and muffins from 7-9pm. However, they were closed and the doors were locked. We asked a few folks who looked like they might have some suggestions. They did not think there was any place open which would serve us a meal. They were also not optimistic about finding a dry place to sleep where we would not be disturbed by the police.
We walked up to Our Place, hoping for a meal. However, we were greeted by two night watchmen who let us know that Our Place closed at 5pm. We were asked to leave. A few retreat participants didn’t have blankets, but the staff at Our Place didn’t have any to share. We saw a lot of clean and dry cardboard next to a bakery. Last year, I had learned how effective cardboard is for keeping you warm and I wanted to make sure that I had cardboard for all of my nights on the street.
After collecting our cardboard, we walked down to Streetlink. By this time, it was starting to rain more heavily and we checked out a few parkades as potential places to sleep. I had never realized how much security there is around the parkades in Victoria! Not only did we have to find a place for 11 people to sleep out of the rain, but we also had to be out of sight and the spot had to be wheelchair accessible.
We arrived at Streetlink and once again, they had no food. A slightly older woman came up to the counter. She had a thick Australian accent which seemed out of place to me. She said that the food services were all shut at this time of night. She thought we were brave to be doing this a holiday weekend because there are fewer services on weekends and holidays. This was the first time that I realized the resources for the homeless and poor in Victoria varied depending on the day of the week and holidays. This is in stark contrast to Vancouver’s DTES. Last year we did the same retreat over the same holiday long weekend and didn’t notice any difference in the amount of available services.
She also said that it would be difficult to find a place to sleep where the police would not bother us. “It is crazy in Victoria. If people don’t find a place to sleep in a shelter, then they end up getting moved from one place to another all night by the police. It is hard to find a place to sleep outside where you do not get awoken by the police.” After she shared her advice, she found us a few blankets. We promised to return the blankets after the retreat.
Genro then asked me where I suggested that we sleep. It was getting late and the rain was coming down. I thought we could either walk over to the industrial area by Rock Bay to try to find a place to sleep, or walk back towards South Park. I didn’t know the Rock Bay area well and did know that behind South Park School there is a covered bike rack which might work for us. Faced with uncertainty in one direction and a place that would hopefully fit our needs in the other directions, we started walking towards South Park.
We stopped in at the Bay Centre to use the washroom again and some members of the group went to ask various food stalls for some food. I joined one person in the Starbucks. The counter person said she couldn’t give us anything twice before starting to take us seriously. We told her what we were doing and she started asking questions. Once we had talked for a while she said that she would bend the rules for us. Apparently, every night they throw out all of the left over sandwiches. She said if we come back at 10:10pm, she would give us all of the sandwiches that they had.
We arrived at South Park and went behind the school to the bike racks. The space was big enough, even though half of it had flooded. The water had run underneath the roof. Luckily, there was enough room for everyone to cram in on the other side. I looked around the school and there was someone else sleeping under the stairs at the side of the school. We tried not to disturb him.
A few of us went back to Starbucks. They opened the door and passed us two big bags filled with sandwiches, wraps and salads. It was a lot of food. One of the participants asked if she could use the wheelchair accessible washroom, but it became clear we had overstayed our welcome. We offered our heartfelt thanks and left.
We rejoined the group and together we shared the food. Normally, I am a vegetarian. However, I had learned last year to gratefully accept whatever food I was offered during this retreat experience. After eating, we all settled down to sleep. The rain was now really coming down and making quite the sound on the roof above us. It was freezing. I had a blanket and I had cardboard, but I was still really cold. I was sleeping towards the outer-edge and I could feel the occasional drip hitting my face. I slept off and on and woke up feeling very chilled.
Friday -- Retreat Day 2
The next morning, we cleaned up our cardboard and put it out of the way, hoping it would be there when we came back to sleep that night. We walked into town to try our luck at breakfast at the 9-10 Club which serves food from 8-10am. It is located by the side of St. Andrews Church on View Street. The 9-10 Club is located down some narrow stairs in a basement of the church with no wheelchair access. Our companion with the wheelchair had to wait outside while we brought her some food and drink. A few of us kept her company while the rest when in to get some food.
I had a muffin and it was just awful. I sat next to a native woman who looked like she was about my age. She leaned over to me and started sharing her thoughts about everyone in the room.
“That person over there -- him -- yeah, he is my brother.”
I just kind of looked at her. I wasn’t sure if she was making fun of me or not.
“Yeah. He is one of my brothers. Those people over there at that table -- that is the gay table. Yeah, they are all gay. Can’t you just tell?”
They actually seemed like they were regulars at the 9-10 Club. They seemed to be having a good time at that table with a real sense of community. I wished I was sitting over there.
“That guy over there. He says he wants a party and I say that I can give him a party, but he will only need 15 seconds. He is so gay. I can party.”
Pause.
“See that guy over there. He is my dad. Only he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want anyone to know. You know how it is. And that guy over there. He is my brother too. I have five brothers. They are always around me. They may not want people to know that I am their sister, but they are there to protect me. And my dad over there. He married his aunt, but he didn’t know it, so he is my grandfather too. But he didn’t know it. He is there to protect me, but doesn’t want me to say. He didn’t know about his sister. It was an accident and he didn’t know.”
Another pause.
“You know, I was too good to marry him. After all of those years studying to be a doctor, I was too good to marry him. I am fine and better off without him. I am a sensei too. Did you know how I became a sensei?”
Of course I had no idea and I just muttered something non-committal. I was really wishing I had something to eat other than this awful muffin. Why couldn’t I get some juice? I felt really uncomfortable.
“I became a sensei unconsciously. It just happened. I studied and trained unconsciously and now I am a sensei and a doctor. You see how it is.”
I didn’t see at all, but didn’t say anything. I had no idea how to connect with her. I felt like an impostor. She then just got up and left.
After breakfast, we walked back to the Bay Centre to use the washrooms. I preferred to sit outside along Government Street and so I sat on a small cardboard square while wearing my bright yellow poncho. I thought about how on the last street retreat had tried to give away love while panhandling, instead of asking for money. I decided to sit there and give away smiles. Most people ignored me, but about 10% would return my smile.
A man walked up to me. In a very gruff voice with a New York accent he asked, “Are you homeless?”
I was startled and still tired from the previous night. I didn’t reply right away.
“Are you homeless?” he asked again in an irritated voice.
After a second I responded, “No. I am on a street retreat. We live on the streets for 4 days and 3 nights as part of a spiritual retreat.”
“Well, do you need any money? Do you?”
“Yes.” I responded. I took off my hat and he dropped in two quarters. It was odd that he gave me the money, given he seemed quite gruff and impatient with me.
Last year, I had panhandled twice and I had received a total of 1 used root beer can. Here in Victoria, I had already gotten $.50 and I hadn’t even asked.
A little while later, I saw someone that I knew from my time as a student at UVic. We were never very close friends, but we would always smile at each other. He saw me sitting on the pavement and smiled at me, as he always had. Then he realized what I was doing and a look of shock and horror crossed his face. He quickly looked away and walked rapidly past me.
Finally, we went to Our Place. As I walked off the street into the courtyard, I felt myself tense up. I had heard so much about Our Place, but have never been there. I walked in and it felt like I was back in the downtown eastside. It struck me that this was a culture that I was entering. It was a defined culture with its own dress code, language and code of behavior. I had never thought of it as a culture. I had thought of it as a symptom of other problems in our society. For the first time, I realized that it was a culture which had a right to exist. Who was I to try and “fix” this culture? How would I know how to fix this culture? This was a culture of people living in a way that they both choose and don’t choose, much in the same way that I live in my culture -- both consciously and unconsciously.
I sat in the courtyard at Our Place and talked to one of the volunteers. We talked and I don’t think she believed that I was part of a group on a street retreat. She thought I was living in a fictional world with my wife and three kids waiting for me to come home. I am not used to people thinking I am crazy. Normally people believe me when I talk, but not any more.
Soon, lunch was served. We went up stairs to the dining area. It was a very well laid out place. As you come up the stairs, there is a place to wash and dry your hands (very smart -- something I have not seen anywhere else in Victoria or Vancouver). There was a line for food. The person in front of me was completely inebriated. He was so pleased that he had just bought these $400 leather cowboy boots. He had lost some boots before and he was never going to take these off. As we got our food handed to us (chicken soup and a salmon sandwich with one sad piece of lettuce), he asked for another sandwich. He stood there at a forty-five degree angle asking for another sandwich while his soup ran out all over his plate and soaked his first sandwich. But they would not give him another sandwich.
I sat at a table across from a clean-cut man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. He told me about how he had found an apartment. He was living at Streetlink, but his 30 days was almost up. He was really happy to have found a place to live. Now he wanted to get a job and join a church. He said he had been in Vancouver in the DTES, but that he had been with the wrong crowd. He moved to Victoria because he needed to change his life. We talked about how change really comes from making a decision to change. I enjoyed his company. Once he was done, he wished me well and we smiled at each other the few other times I saw him during the retreat.
Next, the group went to Beacon Hill Park to take a nap. Everyone was feeling pretty tired from the lack of sleep the night before. The sun was out and it was a nice day. We found a quiet and relatively private area. I lay down and went right to sleep. It seemed like only a moment when someone touched my foot and I jumped up in surprise. I was quite startled! It was time for dinner.
We went back to Our Place, because it would be closed on the weekend. We thought that we could visit Streetlink and Salvation Army over the weekend (little did we know!). We arrived at in time for dinner. I got a plate of rice with a meat sauce and lots of cooked peas. I sat down and thought of something one of the other participants had said. He had talked about coming to terms with his inner street person. Who would I be on the street?
After this, we separated into two groups. One group went to find a candle. Our group tried pan-handling. We spread out, one person per block along Government Street. I ended up at the corner of Government and Yates. I have often seen people pan-handle there, so I thought it might be a good spot. I sat down and once again tried giving away smiles. I didn’t ask anyone for money. A woman came up to me and recognized the mala I was wearing around my wrist.
“Is that a mala? I made 500 of those and gave them away to people on the street last Christmas.”
She had greeting cards for sale and wanted to sell me one. I explained that I was on a street retreat and didn’t have much money.
“Well, you just have to have one, my dear. I am off to India and you don’t have a chance to get another one”
I put my hand into my pocket and took out all the money I had -- about $2.37 -- and held it up to her. “This is all I have.”
She leaned in and took $1. Briefly, I felt quite angry because this was almost half of my money! The feeling soon passed and I chose a card. Her cards were made using Japanese brush work. She complimented me on my meditation posture as she left. It was quite surreal.
A short time later, a man slowed down as he walked by. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to ask for money. I just smiled at him. I think I looked like an idiot, just sitting there smiling. Still walking, he reached into his pocket and threw a $2 coin at me. He almost hit me in the head! I was startled and surprised. I thanked him as he sped away.
After this the full group gathered at Streetlink. We waited there until a group called CART came. They are a Christian group (I can’t recall what the acronym stands for) who have a cart that they move around on Friday nights, giving away stuff. They had underwear, socks, candy and a little food. I got an extra pair of socks and a fortune cookie.
When we got back to South Park, we discovered that someone had taken all of our cardboard. At first, we were worried, but we easily found the cardboard in a large recycling container beside the bike racks. It was pretty easy to open the container enough to reclaim our cardboard. It was cold, but not raining. I had brought some free Gay Pride newspaper from the corner store. I crumpled the newspaper up and filled my clothes with it. It felt odd, but definitely warmer. There was one part on my butt that got really cold. I just couldn’t get really comfortable, lying on cardboard on pavement, with my blanket and using my Acetech backpack as a pillow. I tossed and turned.
In the middle of the night, I heard a woman screaming. At first I thought it was a good scream, but then I heard an edge in the scream. I sat up. One of the others sat up too. We went over to Genro, who was wide awake as well. The three of us went to investigate. We came out to the street and saw a police car, a police van and an ambulance. We couldn’t see what had happened and didn’t want to get to close. The screams had stopped and the cars were getting ready to drive off.
Saturday -- Retreat Day 3
That morning, we went into town to have breakfast at Kirk Hall. Breakfast was run by St. Andrews Church this week. We went right in and sat down in the large hall. Breakfast was french toast, ham, a banana and a small square of cheddar cheese. The cheese looked oddly out of place but it was good and I was hungry.
I sat there enjoying my breakfast when someone sat down at the piano. They started playing beautifully. It was one of the other folks who had come for breakfast. They had finished and now played wonderful music for everyone. I commented on it to the person next to me. He mentioned that there were a few folks who were good at the piano. He pointed out another fellow who later came up and started playing. He was even better than the first guy. The music got me talking to the person next to me, an older person who had been coming to this church’s breakfast for a long time.
“One of the richest churches in the world and they can’t serve us seconds.”
He pointed to a well dressed woman in black, sitting a few tables over surrounded by homeless.
“See her over there? She is one of the wealthiest people in Victoria. She came to Victoria as an immigrant with nothing and now she is wealth. Made it all herself. She is a member of this church and never misses a breakfast. She is really nice.”
One of the volunteers spoke with me as I was getting a cup of tea. She asked how I was doing and where I had slept. I told her I was cold, having slept outside and that I was looking forward to returning to my bed in Oak Bay with my wife and kids. As we talked, I could see her wondering if I was delusional. I talked about the street retreat and after a little bit, she seem to decide that I wasn’t crazy. She took me over and introduced me to the Reverend of the Church. We had a great conversation. He had heard of street retreats before and was interested in potentially participating in one with us sometime.
After breakfast and meditation in the church cemetery next to Island Blue Print on Fort Street, we attended a service at the synagogue downtown. One of the participants was a member of the community. I have never been in a synagogue before and was glad to share the experience.
After service, we decided that instead of getting lunch at 11:30am (Streetlink) or noon (Salvation Army), we would eat the early dinner (3:30 pm.) at Streetlink and the check out the Hot Dog Night at the Mustard Seed Church (at 7:30pm). We arrived at Streetlink at about 3:20pm and all the tickets for the 3:30pm dinner were gone. We also learned that Mustard Seed was not having a Hot Dog Night because of the long weekend - it was looking like no lunch and no dinner for us!
Genro suggested that we try going to the market in Bastion Square to see if we could get any fresh produce. The market was closing, but it was nearby. We hurried over and the folks selling the produce were just finishing up for the day. The person I was with explained our situation and right away they said yes. There wasn’t any hesitation. As they gave us 3 big flats of vegetables, one of the owners started to recognize me. I thanked her for the food and explained that Mitra and I had eaten there many times. It was nice to make the connection after they had already made their decision to be so generous.
After this, the group split up into a few smaller groups to go see if we could get some more food to go with our vegetables. I went off with another group member. She had a very good feeling about a nearby restaurant, but they said that they couldn’t give us any food. They explained that it would break health code regulations and it wasn’t their fault, but they just couldn’t help us. I resisted the temptation to argue.
The next restaurant said no. Our third restaurant was very interested in giving us some food, but the manager was not there. Instead, we got some toothpicks for the group. Toothpicks are a great find when you haven’t brushed your teeth in a few days.
The fourth restaurant that we passed did not look promising. Regardless, we asked and the owner just stopped us in the midst of our pitch and said yes. He brought out some wonderful fresh curry and rice. It was a lovely surprise.
As we made our way back to the main group, we saw someone collecting bottles. He had a shopping cart with an old dog in it. I offered him our bottles. He explained that he was trying to earn enough to sleep in a hostel. He has a friend from high school who owned one of the hostels and she let him shower and sleep there, if he had enough money. I thought there would be lots of bottles in the Bay Centre, but he told me that he couldn’t go in there, looking like he did and with his dog. I told him we would collect bottles for him. He showed me a hiding spot he had in Bastion Square. He asked us to collect the bottles and then hide them there for him.
Two of us went into the Bay Centre with an empty black garbage bag to collect bottles. We started on the ground floor, looking in each trash can. This time, I was sticking my hands into the trash can to collect the bottles and cans. It was really hard to do. I am so programmed to not put my hand into a trash can that I had to remind myself, “these hands have touched worse while changing diapers.”
When we had just about finished the bottom floor, one of the sales clerks came over to us with two empty water bottles. He handed them to us, warning us to be careful not to get caught by security. They were nasty today, he said.
While watching for security, we searched through the trash on the remaining levels. We saw two security guards and followed them from a distance. We could keep them in our view and continue our collecting. By the time we were done, we had a garbage bag full of cans and bottles. We dropped them off in the hideaway and hoped our new friend would get them. Another aside: I saw this same person a few days after the retreat. He said that he had safely found the bottles and he thanked us.
After the group came back together, we headed down to the park by the whale wall to have dinner. This is an area that I have stayed away from because it is not safe. We sat down in the park and were just getting ready to eat when one of our group suggested that we offer our food to folks around us. There was a young man up on the street that we saw looking in an old pizza box for food. We called him down and he joined us.
In total, 6 people joined us. One of them had a guitar and played great music. Some of the tunes were originals and some were from Pearl Jam and Nirvana. A woman in a cowboy hat sat next to him and sang. The one song that really stuck with me was her version of “Polly” by Nirvana. The song is about a woman being held captive and tortured. What makes it really chilling is that the song is from the perspective of the person who has captured her. She changed the lyrics, using her own name instead of Polly. Listening to her great voice sing this haunting song about her torture was really creepy. At the end of this write-up, I have included the lyrics to the song, for those who do not know them.
After I had eaten enough to take the edge off, I went to join the young “pizza box” man. He was sitting a little out of the circle and seemed disconnected. I brought some tomatoes and water to share with him. We started chatting. He was in his early 30s. He had been up at UVic studying Economics and Political Science. Based on how he talked, I didn’t doubt him. He was clearly a smart guy who was quite articulate. He said that he decided living on the street might be a way to learn more than being in university. He had thought he might make a video or write a book about the experience. Now that dream seemed a long way off. He had been on the street for two years. For the first while, he had resisted the constant offering of drugs. He had good times and bad times. However, when one of his bad times got much worse, he discovered crack and had been hooked ever since.
When we arrived back at South Park, our cardboard was where we had left it. Five of us walked back into the city to share a large hot chocolate at McDonalds. That night four of us stuffed our clothes with Gay Pride newspaper. We looked like cartoon superheroes with all of the stuffing. I slept okay that night, but not great.
Sunday -- Retreat Day 4
I woke up early the next morning. I was looking at some painted rocks that my daughter’s kindergarten class had done when someone pulled up to the front of the parking lot, got out of their car, unlocked the gate across the lot, pulled into the lot and finally, got out of his car. I walked up to him and said, “Hi there. It is cold out, eh? Do you work at South Park? My daughter goes to school here.”
In a very guarded voice, he said, “I am with district.”
“I am on a street retreat. We live on the street for 4 days and 3 nights to better understand homelessness. There are 10 more of us sleeping behind the school by the bike racks. I am pretty happy because later today I get to go home to my wife and three kids.”
In a low, deep voice he said, “Well, I am a retired Navy Seal. I have slept on the streets of every god-damn shit-hole on this planet and it is no fun. I hope you have learned that.”
Then he went on to add, “You should know that there is going to be a meeting here this morning. It is a big meeting in about half an hour with lots of principals and teachers. They are not going to like seeing you and your friends. You may be on a street retreat, but they are going to call the police. They’ll get scared so you need to leave now. This is not a threat, it is a warning.”
So I woke Genro, telling him it was time to leave. But once I realized what time and day it was (6:30am on Sunday morning on a holiday long weekend), it seemed unlikely that there was to be any meeting. In any event, we cleaned up our make-shift camp and left the bike rack area cleaner than when we had arrived. When we were about a block away, I saw two police cars drive past us. I really wanted to go back and see if the police had gone to South Park, but everyone was cold, hungry and in search of coffee. We walked through town and there wasn’t much open.
We were standing in front of McDonalds downtown, when a woman walked by. She was in her mid-teens. Her eyes were smeared. She was dressed like a 6 year old in a purple, frilly dress. She had a “My Little Pony” backpack on and was clutching a stuffed “My Little Pony” to her chest. She looked like she was in rough shape and wondering around in a daze. She walked past us a couple of times. One of the women on the retreat approached her to see if we could help, but she said she was fine and just walked on.
We walked over to Centennial Square to use the bathrooms. It was odd watching the security guards and the drug dealers each doing their jobs. I had three different people come up to me to sell me drugs. Genro asked me to look at the list of church services to find one for us to attend and we found First Metropolitan United Church on Balmoral Road. They had an early service (9 am) and their listing said, “All welcome.” We figured that we could put that to the test.
The service had already started when we walked in. They were happy that we were joining them and compared us travelers to the three wise men. We didn’t have time to explain that we were on a spiritual journey. I didn’t know how bad I smelled. In spite of this, the church community welcomed us with open arms. I found the service to be particularly moving. I have only been to a few church services before and I had never enjoyed them. I didn’t want to like them. Having found a door into spirituality through Buddhism, I found a way from that spiritual place to connect to the church like never before. It was a very powerful service that brought tears to my eyes. As I sung the various songs from the hymn books, they resonated so powerfully with my experiences over the past few days. The service reached out to all groups, regardless of race, religion or location. I was very touched.
During the service, there was an older woman sitting next to me. She was dressed in her Sunday best and she reminded me of a younger version of my grandmother. I realized how much I missed my grandmother and how I hadn’t connected with since I had started publicly talking about my sexual abuse. The abuse has divided my family. I have found it so difficult, that I have intentional cut myself off, instead of continually dealing with the division. I was filled with a deep sense of loss sitting in the church. I vowed that I would reconnect with my grandmother, whatever the outcome.Sunday -- After The Retreat
Once the retreat was over, we returned to our homes and cleaned-up. People then came over to my house for a final get together. Mitra set out lots of great food. There was a BBQ and we all had a chance to connect one last time before people left. It was nice to meet the other people in the life of those on the retreat (partners, kids, parents, etc).
Last year, I had showered before coming home. This year I walked straight home. I must have smelled so bad. The kids could barely get close to me and Mitra would only give me a small kiss until I had cleaned up. Darius put on a filter mask before hugging me.
I noticed how much I enjoyed have a choice of food. On the street, I ate what I was given with little choice. In the shelters, you got a plate of food and that is what you ate. It was so nice to have choices again about what I wanted to eat. I found myself having a little bit of lots of different foods. I wasn’t really that hungry; I just so enjoyed having a choice!
Postscript: Wednesday -- Three Days After the Retreat
Since the retreat, I have been downtown a few times. I have seen folks that I met in the food shelters and on the streets. I have enjoyed chatting with each of them. I have felt so much more connected to a part of my home which I previously felt cut-off from.
One experience really struck me. I was on my bike on lower Fisgard Street (just up from Streetlink). I heard a woman sobbing. She was clearly in a lot of pain. I turned around and rode my bike down to her. She was walking past people sitting outside having their coffee and tea who seemed oblivious to her. I stopped to talk with her.
She said, “I just wish people wouldn’t be so mean to me.” She asked for some spare change and I gave her $20. She started crying again and I held her. She sunk into my arms and I held her there on the street, while I felt the eyes of those sitting nearby. Her face was bloody, she was dirty and I held her as she sunk into my arms. When she had stopped crying, she stood back. She thanked me and told me that normally she looked much more beautiful. I smiled at her as she walked off.
I would not have held her before I had participated in a street retreat. I acted differently after the retreat. For me, this is the most important thing. The reason that I attend the street retreats is not to learn or to think differently. The reason that I attend is to deeply look into my emotions and to act differently.
"The essential difference between emotion and reason is that emotion leads to action while reason leads to conclusions."
Vancouver Downtown Eastside Street Retreat 2007 & Victoria Street Retreat 2008
Last year I had the opportunity to participate in a 4 day and 3 night street retreat in the DTES. This year I organized a street retreat for 4 days and 3 nights in Victoria.
Amount of Resources and Availability of Resources
When comparing the downtown eastside (DTES ) in Vancouver with Victoria, there are clearly more resources in the DTES. Obviously, there are far more people to serve in the DTES. To compare, in Victoria the listing of places to eat is 1 page long. In the DTES, the listing is 5 pages long. One of the impacts of this is that there are fewer opportunities to find a place to eat in Victoria and it you miss your chance, you are much less likely to find another place to eat. In Vancouver, if you miss a place, you can just move on to the next food shelter. In Victoria, if you miss a place, then you will probably not get to eat.
In Victoria the resources close much earlier. For example, dinner for non-residents at Streetlink is at 3:30pm. Dinner at 3:30pm in the afternoon? By 5 pm pretty much all of the resources are closed. On the weekends and holidays there are even fewer resources in Victoria. In Vancouver, we held the retreat over the August long weekend and there wasn’t any noticeable difference as a result of the weekend in terms of the availability of food. In Victoria, there was definitely less food.
An interesting comparison is the number of opportunities that we had for meals on the two retreats. Assuming that we had a normal 3 meals a day, there was an opportunity for 8 meals over the course of the 4 days on each retreat (given that we started at 3 pm on the first day and ended at noon on the last day). In the DTES, we were able to eat 8 meals at food shelters. In Victoria, we were only able to eat 4 meals in food shelters.
Blankets
This is another interesting comparison between the DTES and Victoria. In the DTES, we asked at one place for blankets and they gave us 10 blankets. In Victoria, we asked at several places and we only able to collect 6 blankets in total (a few from Our Place and a few from Streetlink).
Sleeping Outside
In the DTES, people sleep outside. It is more accepted and you are not hassled by the police. In Victoria, people should not sleep outside. You are hassled by the police.
Religious Services
In the DTES, all of the places that we ate at provided sermons before our meals. In Victoria, all four of the places that gave us food were churches, but none of them made us sit through a sermon.
