stella41b
Posts: 4258
Joined: 10/16/2007
From: SW London (UK)
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I'm just impressed by the woman's inventiveness. I would never have thought of it. I've been homeless myself and this thread brought back memories of tsome of the places I slept in, usually undetected. In London it was easy, some apartment blocks have huge rooms where they keep huge steel dustbins, but the space behind them was enough to have a mattress and even a chair and table. Some even had electric lighting.
I think the worst was the 21 days I spent street homeless in Warsaw.. November 2005, snow, subzero temperatures. I tried the main railway stations but you can't sleep there due to the other homeless, the police and the criminals, not to mention the passengers and constant station announcements, motion of the trains, and so on. Night buses weren't always that safe either. I've slept in a railway tunnel twice. The best places were the railway carriages of the trains which arrived from the former Soviet republics. Twice a week a train would arrive from Kazachstan (4 days by train) and arrive about 11pm. What I would do is ride the train out to the nearest station nearest the sidings, walk along the tracks between the carriages to avoid the SOK - Railway Police and find this train hoping that nobody had locked the doors to the carriages.
Usually not. These carriages were all individually heated and quite hot when you entered them. The water was still hot so you could get cleaned up, you usually could find a nice clean bunk in a sleeper compartment, close the curtains, get a good night's sleep. You'd wake up in the morning before the train cleaners arrived to clean the carriages. Usually this gave you time to clean yourself up, find some lukewarm tea from the old Russian samovar in proper china teacups, perhaps a bit of food, and get ready for another day of trudging through snow and wandering around.
I think the most unusual place was my biggest mistake· One night I arrived to find the carriage doors locked, and only cold frozen railway carriages. It was a bitterly cold night, minus 18 or so, just after midnight, and I staggered to a bus stop and took the first night bus.. I fell asleep. The bus driver woke me up at the terminus, told me to bugger off and drove off into the distance. All I could see were houses. Almost all of them had dogs. The problem is if you set one dog off all the dogs start barking. I cut through a wooded area, found a perimeter fence, and what I thought was a factory. Security guard at the entrance. Hell. I see a sort of large bit of the factory with lights and open doors. I search through the snow, find a rock. In the distance I see this sheet metal bicycle shed. I'm freezing cold, but I take aim, and throw this small rock at the bicycle shed. It clatters off the top. I duck as the security guards come out of their little house, they go off to investigate, I leg it into this factory.
It stinks of shit, but I'm there. It's warm. I find a concealed corner near the wall put my bag down and lie down. I don't care, I'm so tired. If I get woken up I get woken up. But at least I'll be woken up and alive, and not literally frozen to death. I drift off.
For some reason I'm dreaming of bulls. I'm awoken to the sound of mooing. I open my eyes, the smell of shit is worse, even worse, I see legs of cows, I hear voices. Cows are looking at me. I realise I'm in a bloody abbatoir! Oh my God, all these cows. I hear the sound of running engines outside. I think I'm still dreaming. I reach out, feel the wall, no this is really an abbatoir. I make my way gingerly but carefully among the cows, bulls and back out of the building. One lorry driver turns, sees me yells out and runs away. God knows what he thought.
I somehow get out of the building, back through the small forest, back to the bus stop. I can't sleep any more.
This was a few days before Kali, my former Mistress returns to Warsaw. She calls me on my cell, asking me where I am. I tell her I'm on the streets. She tells me to get to her. She gives me a space on the floor in her tiny apartment. I get to her place. We sit, chat. She gives me a bit of money to go to a local Internet cafe to e-mail my family, charges up my cellphone, my family wire money through the next day for me to return to the UK. Not a lot, enough to buy a ticket. I collect the money, I'm going home after 13 years in Poland. The fares have gone up for Christmas. I decide to take the train to Germany and hitchhike home. I want to stay, but can't. That last evening I buy currency and a train ticket. Everything is packed.
Mistress gets up at 5am. Sits up in bed, lights a cigarette. Those eyes as black as coal, that same composed expression, she tells me to get ready, use the bathroom while she gets coffee. I obey. She tells me not to worry, to go through it, to stay strong. I get myself ready, hear her in the kitchen. I come back out. She's prepared coffee and breakfast. We sit in silence, eat. It's just before 6am. The train leaves at 6.45am. Four tram stops to the station. I clean up and wahs up everything. I come back. That same expression, only this time there's a difference. In succession tears are dropping from the right eye. I want to die,. No. Not now. She gets up, I get up, we hug each other. She tells me to go, sees me to the door. Explains she cannot see me to the station. She just wants to see me to the door, let me walk down the corridor as normal, as I always did, and be left alone with her feelings. She wants to come to terms with the loss, her loss. Inside I want to die. She doesn't want to hear from me until I'm safe, I am to concentrate on my own survival and to follow her instructions and advice. I kiss her gently on the forehead and leave.
It was hard sitting on that train, speeding westwards, but such is the nature of life sometimes. I left Warsaw December 5 2005, arrived in London December 9, remained street homeless until December 23. It was better in London, warmer. More places to sleep, I received the help I needed, people were kind. I got my apartment November 13 2006. I finally managed to reach my former Mistress Kali New Year's Eve 2006 and gave her the news.
The homeless have become part of my life. This Friday I have to come up with my first project with the theatre and charity I'm developing and schedule a performance and workshops in the hostels for the homeless. Today I discovered I've been appointed as a member of a committee for the LGBT homeless. The first project is in three of these hostels, one of which is a 'wet' hostel - crack and heroin addicts, people with substance issues, another is the hostel where I spent ten months in Hackney in East London as the only transgendered female resident. It's going to be strange walking into this hostel, working with the staff who once harrassed and abused me under the tyranny of a hostel manager who no longer works there.
Reading the thread brought back many memories, good and bad, as there were good times as well. One of the good things about being homeless is that invariably there's this bond among the homeless, most other people you meet end up as friends or acquaintances, and it's amazing what you end up talking about just to pass the time.
Another thing is... and I've just realized it, we're putting on two plays in this performance for the homeless, and one of the plays is about BDSM. So far nobody has questioned this or commented on it. Me being myself I'm keeping quiet, not saying anything, God knows what the reaction is going to be like. Will this lead to a special 'kinky' area in the hostel? Will the communal hall area be renamed the play room? Will this lead to the first dungeon or munch for the homeless?
Either way, I will keep you all posted.
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