Becky Blanton: The year I was homeless

The speaker, Becky Blanton, worked as an editor, before she quit her job. For personal reasons, she took a year off to live in a van with her cat and dog. She was one of the working poor in America and invisible to society. A trip to the homeless clinic helped her turn her life around again.

Breakfast for a Homeless Japanese

Yesterday’s mail delivered two reminders about the old stigma that there is no poverty in Japan. One was the article  Japan tries to face up to growing poverty problem in the International Herald Tribune, the other came by e-mail from a friend in California who also mentioned my fondness for bums. Yes, that’s right. Bums, not buns.

While living in Kitakyushu/Japan, I found a new friend in the bum who used to live in the tunnel between Kokura station and the former Kitakyushu International Association (KIA).

Every Wednesday, on my way from the station to my volunteer job at KIA, I would first stop at the bakery to get some breakfast to go. Not for me, but for my friend who had been living in the tunnel for I-don’t-know how many years. I am pretty sure it must have been years as Japan offered almost no assistance, neither granted by the state nor its society, in support for sore sights such as the homeless.

Granted, many people rather turn a blind eye, but I found the Japanese to be even willfully blinder than the rest of us. In the early 90s, seeing a bum did not sit  well in their self-projected image of an affluent society.

My friend, whose name I will never know, must have been in his late 80s. I only saw him squatting down, a bony torso, lower limbs missing, and head always posed in shame.

I always greeted him and said a few words in Japanese, while putting down his breakfast. For the longest time, he never looked up, but he audibly came to know me as the strange person, speaking accented Japanese, who would bring breakfast on Wednesdays. Once, towards the end of our relationship, he looked up and I noticed his blank stare. Of all the things in the world, he was blind, too.

One Wednesday in late winter, he went missing. I took his breakfast with me to KIA and mentioned to my Californian friend  that the bum had not been there this morning. Strangely enough, she thought I had referred to my husband, which took a couple of minutes to clear up this misunderstanding.

I never saw him again and was unable to find out what happened. I can only guess that his lights had gone out. That same year, when he went to his creator, another little boy found his way into and under my heart. Our son Thomas was born the following winter.

Why do I like bums, you might ask. Whether they are homeless by choice or free will, they are people like you and me. And I would like to think that if any one of my children ever ended up living on the road, as a parent I would be happy to know that someone would be kind enough to share some food. Wouldn’t you?

The city of Frankfurt is home to 1800 homeless.

Streets of New York and Breakfast with a Homeless

When I went to New York City a couple of years ago, I had taken gloves, mittens, scarves, and a lot of good will to meet up with the poor of New York. Being my first trip to New York, I was not aware that there aren’t many beggars in Manhattan.

But I got lucky the very first morning, standing at the roadside in front of our hotel at 5:30 in the morning. The pick-up trucks had made their noise, the sirens kept going, lights kept flashing and throwing shadows in the room, and then jet lag did the rest to get me out of bed. On the steps of the hotel outside, I watched the dumpster guys pick up the trash, saw flashy young New Yorkers returning from their night out, took in the air, and stood there, bracing myself against this November cold.

So, on that morning, as I took in the New York City air, smell, sounds, and lights, this guy approached me. He only asked for a cigarette, but I actually was looking for a place to get a cup of coffee that early. So I ended up inviting him to breakfast and he had to lead the way. His name was Charly. While we had breakfast at a little place around the corner, I felt the staff eying us.

Charly told me he never travels without surgical gloves as there are so many diseases about. He took his apple juice with a slice of chewing gum which served as a non-existent tooth brush and paste combined.

He showed me his mobile phone and told me most of his kind do carry one as life on the roads is too dangerous without one. He then asked me for my mobile phone number and I couldn’t give him one, because I don’t have a mobile phone. He probably found this hard to believe. Then I asked him if I could take his photo and he declined. Nevertheless, our conversation was very engaging and lively and he struck me as someone you and I would meet anywhere while having a cup of coffee.

On the way out, I asked him if he wanted anything else and he chose a couple more low-cost things from the menu. I learned a lot from him in those 30 minutes. He had dignity, he took care of himself in his own way, he knew when to say no, and he was gentle. I do not know if living on the streets was his choice. He was too young to be a Vietnam veteran, he was too old to be a hippie of some kind.

[youtube Ctb-SrwL884]

I have always liked this song by Ralph McTell.

So whether you are in New York City, London, or Frankfurt, you might find an interesting street person to talk to. Just give them and yourself the chance – they are usually grateful for any interest you show in their life. Wouldn’t you be?

Diese Webseite verwendet Cookies. Wenn Sie auf der Seite weitersurfen, stimmen Sie der Cookie-Nutzung zu. Mehr Informationen

Diese Webseite verwendet so genannte Cookies. Sie dienen dazu, unser Angebot nutzerfreundlicher, effektiver und sicherer zu machen. Cookies sind kleine Textdateien, die auf Ihrem Rechner abgelegt werden und die Ihr Browser speichert. Die meisten der von uns verwendeten Cookies sind so genannte "Session-Cookies". Sie werden nach Ende Ihres Besuchs automatisch gelöscht. Cookies richten auf Ihrem Rechner keinen Schaden an und enthalten keine Viren. Weitere Informationen finden Sie auf der Seite “Datenschutzerklärung”.

Close