Five men who lived without homes in our city have died so far this year, easily doubling last year’s January rate and matching that of the first two months of 2010. How is that possible? How can death race through our community, yet again, with such impunity?
Instead we find ourselves talking about benches — $50,000, really? — and how to make life uncomfortable for the homeless. These same unhoused neighbors of ours also face threatened cutbacks in much-needed services elsewhere. Is not the real reason behind the redesigned and strategically moved benches to make the poor invisible? Is it their sight, or is it not their very existence that some find so objectionable? What and who is next to bother us? The color of someone’s skin? A Star of David? A Catholic cross? Those in wheelchairs, or the aged and/or infirmed?
While some let fear replace compassion and act accordingly, I believe that most of the citizens of our community are good people and actually want to do something constructive about this tragedy. A good place to start would be with the anatomy of death for the homeless in our city for the first month of the new year. The following is from my journal.
My first entry: Arriving at the shelter, the first thing I notice is the sheriff’s car. I’m puzzled at first. This is the jurisdiction of the Santa Barbara Police Department. Why the sheriff? But of course I know: The coroner is part of the Sheriff’s Department. I race upstairs only to find “Doug’s” lifeless body being wheeled by me. He had seemed weak and drawn as of late, the color of his skin a deathly pale. The blanket that covers his body seems to overwhelm him — he seems tiny, framed for and by death.
Jan. 12: A man recently released from a facility is found dead at a housing complex downtown. Something is not right to die within 24 hours from such a release. His death is another puzzle.
Jan. 14: A man whose health has been deteriorating makes his way to the hospital after spending time on the streets and in a shelter. His condition continues its downhill spiral till death calmly strolls in and claims yet another victim.
Again, Jan. 14: Death claims a working man whose body is found in his van on the Eastdide. Surely this sad list must have come to an end.
But on Jan. 22, another entry from my journal — and this one hurts deeply for I have known Shakey for a very long time. His body was found behind a trash bin in Pershing Park — his home for the past several years. His health also had been poor as of late. His last years had lived restricted to his wheelchair. His long hair hung loosely to his shoulders, a dark beard shadowing his face. He could be grumpy at times, especially early in the morning when I would wake him up to inquire on his well-being. At other times he was alert and engaging. But the sadness in his eyes was always present, as if he knew he was in a footrace with death. There were many factors in his life that were contraindicated to good health. In the end, it was probably a combination of factors that betrayed his frail body and wounded spirit.
A man dies alone in his van, another on the walkway of a housing complex. Another homeless man falls pry to death in a homeless shelter, and another in the hospital. The final one goes to sleep, never to awake at a park. What else did they have in common? Third World poverty, poor health and the fact that they were old by the standards of the streets — all in their late 40s or 50s. And of course, none of them had a home to call their own. They also carried the baggage of being modern-day lepers — the label of homeless.
While those without homes who sit on the benches in front of the deserted Borders store draw the anger of some, and a proposed cash infusion for a redesign of benches from others, does anyone know the real reason this store that acted as a cultural center at one time for our city went out of business? I heard the rent jumped from about $58,000 to $150,000. Is this rumor true? Does anyone complain of such a horrendous rent increase if it is true? Or are the homeless and poor simply too easy a target? After all, isn’t that the roll that lepers play in society? Easy targets.
There is one other thing they have in common. They were all our neighbors, and they all died decades too early. The number of homeless in our community is now five fewer. I desperately hope and pray their numbers are not cut further, but death seems on a driven mission on our streets.
I also hope that my journals fall quiet for a while. I need to find equilibrium, and the homeless need a respite from all this carnage.
— Ken Williams has been a social worker for the homeless for the past 30 years. He is the author of China White and Shattered Dreams, A Story of the Streets. He has just completed his first nonfiction book, There Must Be Honor.
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