sleepin' in the park

after threats of threats from katelyn, im back. before i move on, i'd like to tell some stories about our 48 hour trip in the street, as promised.

At around 4:30 on April 25th, the 5 of us (Jon, Merrin (Victoria LQers), Christy, Susana and I) set out for a two day plunge into the heart of one of Canada's roughest downtow cores with no money, no food, and no clothes except the ones on our backs. We brought along sleeping bags, and a couple of cell phones and ID hidden away in socks. But for the most part we were at the mercy of the city, like hundreds of others in Vancouver's downtown east side.

Here are a few exerpts from my journal about the experience:

Reaching Main St. I tried to look "somber" and fit in. We asked two men for a good cheap place to eat. I couldn't stop staring at his yellowing teeth and bleeding lip. We asked about a free meal. They seemed friendly and helpful, but not surprised, as I had anticipated.
...
(Free dinner at a mission)
The sermon was condescending, and incoherent. The smartly dressed preacher and his matchng wife were selling a way to salvation by talking about Zerubabel, and about a "friend" who he'd helped overcome alcoholism. 'Your resources are not enough' he told us. 'You need help.' I reacted strongly. He didn't speak with an ounce of humility or genuine compassion. The only real emotion he was emitting was fear... We felt like cattle.
...
We sit inside at a table by ourselves though people are all around us. I am feeling quite desperate to fit in. I want to make conversation and interact with people. I try to look more scared than I actually am because I feel like that will make me appear like a newcomer to the scene, a traveller perhaps. One man asks if we are new around here. I ask him how he can tell. "You don't look like addicts" he says. We are both silent. He gets up to leave.
...
Walking down Carrall St I had a thought to stop and talk to the woman on the corner at the old Woodwards building. We had seen her there before and I was curious to find out why she was sitting there and thought she was a prime person to get some interaction with.

Behind her was a red flag with a black cross on it. She was wearing a big floppy straw hat with a wide rippled brim that came down low and covered her face. She had a box set up as a table in front of her with a basket and a small can for change, but it was pretty obvious that she wasn't panhandling. Beside her was a wheeled shopping basket. She was reading the Bible. 1 Corinthians.

I asked her what she was doing sitting there. I felt a bit awkward starting up the conversation. She looked at me. "Praise de Lord, my chile!" Her face lit up as her eyes met mine. It was almost like she already knew me. She was strange looking. Hers wasn't the face I was expecting to find under the patched brim of floppy straw. She was neither soft nor gentle. Her eyes were large and they were opened wide. Her stare was piercing, but her eyes were hazy, almost milky with what I assume to be cataracts. But I knew she could see me.

In a strong Jamaican accent she began to speak to us. "I be here to tell the people to repent." She spoke loudly and with much strength in her voice. I felt vulnerable when she looked at me. "The people -- there be sin all aroun' dis place. And de people need Jesus." I was excited, as I get when I hear people who speak Jesus' name, and of knowing God. Feelings of sympathy, agreement and love struggled against the fear and vulnerability which I felt when she looked at me. She went on. I felt slightly embarassed at the spectacle we were making. But these people make nothing of spectacles. It is part of the normalcy here.

Other people passed by. A transvestite stopped for a brief, patronizing conversation. A man shouted a warning that she practiced voodoo, calling her a witch. Another man came up and put some change in her basket. He had a patch on his eye and was wearing all black. He listened intently. I was curious to see what the man wanted from her, but Jon rightly said that we had to go get lunch. The sun was getting hot. I still wonder what they talked about.


I could proably go on forever, but will stop here for now. I can only apologize so many times for my long-winded-ness. But, if there is demand, I'll publish some more.