My heart rattled violently inside of my chest. The door opened easily and Jason and Justin stepped right into the abandoned restaurant. I took one look at the dark alley behind me and decided I'd take my chances with the creepy old restaurant. We stepped over cardboard and jumped into what used to be the arcade area of this pizza place. Our three flashlights suddenly didn't seem so bright. The ceiling seemed very tall.
"Hello? We're not with police. We're conducting surveys and have a $5 gift card to a restaurant," Jason called.
Silence listened.
This is how scary movies begin. The thought crept into my mind and the realization of where we were hit me... like a punch in the stomach. I don't watch scary movies, but I was pretty sure that this is how they began. Three curious, altruistic people climbing through abandoned restaurants... I swallowed, though my mouth felt like cotton and tried to think rationally.
I tried to pretend I was brave, but in reality, I ended up following Jason into every room he entered. I was unwilling to shine my flashlight into corners-- by myself.
I was relieved when Justin and Jason felt satisfied that no one was in the restaurant and headed toward the door. I was only too ready to exit... after all, we had only found evidences, but no people.
Have you ever been in those situations when you know that no one could imagine what you were doing in that moment, even if they tried? Have you tried put together facts and impressions with what was currently happening, and struggled to find coherence? I feel like I get that way too often.
This week I have been volunteering with an NGO in Champaign (C-U at Home. Check their website out here). According to their website, "C-U at Home will be administering a very detailed vulnerability index survey in Champaign County [...] The goal of this survey is very specifically to determine who, among the homeless population, is most at risk of dying if their housing circumstances do not change." They have been (and will be) conducting surveys at various shelters and soup kitchens in the surrounding area, but none of those shifts fit my schedule. One shift, however, fit fine... ish.
I was placed on the "street teams" from 4:00 to 6:00 am on Monday and Tuesday mornings. Our goal? find the homeless in Champaign who were unable/unwilling to sleep in shelters during the night. Apparently, if someone is on the streets between 4:00 and 6:00 am, they are most likely homeless... and so we went, carrying our flashlights, searching for the marginalized.
Monday was pretty unsuccessful as far as numbers were concerned. We had four street teams out, and only one (my team) found any homeless individuals. We asked if we could survey him and he consented. His answers saddened me, knowing that his simple "yes" to hypothermia screamed so much more than a small check on a box. Affirmative answers to alcohol/substance abuse, being the victim of violence and more than 10 years on the street squeezed my heart and made it ache. A final reply to the question about dreams and ambitions made it hard to breathe.
"Death."
And the whole experience of searching for humans in bushes, under bridges, in and around dumpsters and in dark alleys was extremely unnerving. I suppose I knew that the homeless had to find SOMEWHERE to sleep if they weren't in shelters... but actually going through the motions of going to those places really shook me up. Every time I opened a dumpster, my breath caught in my throat, as I imagined opening the lid and finding a human huddled inside. I tried to imagine shining a flashlight under a bush and finding someone curled under the foliage.
This morning we walked over a small hill and found two men inside of sleeping bags. The scene felt unreal. We gently woke one of them up-- he gladly and excitedly agreed to answer some questions in exchange for a food gift card. Homeless by choice, he was on his way back home via hitchhiking. His cardboard sign read, "Pls. EAST." His passion and joy was apparent. He shared amusing anecdotes and told us jokes. He spoke of his children fondly. And he even wanted a group picture with us. My heart swelled.
Later, as we headed back toward our car, I spotted a man crumpled up against a wall. My heart sank. We approached him and saw him shivering. Jason ran back to the car and retrieved some gloves. As I initiated contact, he agreed to be surveyed, but his answers were hard to decipher due to mumbling and extreme quietness. He's one of the most vulnerable, I remember thinking as we walked away.
...One of the ones who is at risk of dying if something doesn't change... soon.
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