LilMtnCbn
08-27-2004, 06:31 AM
http://www.canoe.ca/NewsStand/Columnists/Ottawa/Susan_Sherring/2004/08/27/
603824.html
Homeless left out in cold again
By SUSAN SHERRING -- For the Ottawa Sun
Tattoos cover much of her upper body -- stars, skulls, bones. Her pretty face
has been pierced many times, a nose ring, lip ring, studs in several other
places.
And she carries her Bic lighter in between her ample cleavage, decorated with
yet another tattoo.
But once she speaks, any first impressions her physical appearance might have
prompted are quickly dispelled.
Joni Reed talks intelligently about life on the streets, about having to "couch
surf" during the winter months, about finding somewhere to sleep outside during
the summer.
At 18, she's seen a side of life few of us will ever glimpse. One of those
camped out at Ottawa City Hall, she says she's not sure where she'll go if
they're forced to leave.
She has no home to go to, no address at which to receive welfare, getting
little more than $100 a month for what's described as a street allowance.
She says she's trying to get her act together but life hasn't given her many
breaks. Put up for adoption at six months, she and her sister were in foster
homes for much of their lives. She hasn't seen her mother in years and doesn't
get along with her father.
Reed comes across as a bright, if troubled, young woman but she admits her
problems run deep. She has an eating disorder, does drugs, drinks and often
feels depressed and suicidal.
"I've been in and out of psych wards, hospitals. But I'm trying to get it
together. I've got a good head on my shoulders," she says.
Between the tattoos on her arms are deep scars, the result of self-inflicted
cigarette and lighter burns during times of sadness, depression, sometimes even
extreme happiness.
But her story, while gut-wrenching, doesn't stand out among this group of
homeless people. And while their protest has lasted for almost two months, this
group doesn't whine about their lot in life.
A fortysomething woman opens up about her past, though she asks that her name
not be used because she doesn't want her fellow campers to know all about her
life.
She wears her heart on her sleeve, this pretty, plump woman with warm, dark
eyes.
Abused by her mother as a child, then by one of her two husbands, her eyes well
up as she admits to being afraid.
"I'm afraid of what might happen if the police come," she admits. "I've had a
lot of pain in my life, I don't want any more."
Her mother's beatings, she suggests, left their mark. So fearful is she of the
possibility of violence if the police physically force them to leave, she plans
to return to a rooming house she shares with several other women, a place she
says smells so horribly of urine she can hardly stay there.
While she isn't homeless, her boyfriend is and she wants to be by his side
during this protest -- one she believes in.
As she speaks about her past, about getting pregnant in Grade 9, about her
three children being in the care of the Children's Aid Society, a deal is being
cut which will affect her future. But it's a deal she and most of the other
homeless protesters appear to know little or nothing about.
One of those involved is Khalid Lasfar, who is desperate to be considered the
official spokesman for the protesters. They're not buying into it.
An overbearing, rude man, he intimidates several of the protesters, and
unsuccessfully attempts to do the same thing with reporters. Lasfar was one of
those in on a meeting with Ottawa Mayor Bob Chiarelli, set up at the mayor's
request by Sean McKenny, president of the Ottawa Labour Council.
While McKenny might have the desired mediation skills, the group of protesters
with their incredible hard-luck stories haven't been consulted. Some of them
say they'll chain themselves to the Human Rights Mmonument if anyone tries to
evict them.
McKenny says he's just trying to strike a deal, but like Lasfar, he appears
more than a little controlling, complaining that councillors like Osgoode Coun.
Doug Thompson and Innes Coun. Rainer Bloess could get in the way of a deal.
It seems somehow ironic, and more than a little sad, that a marginalized group
of society are once again caught in the middle of something so out of their
control.
On his way back into City Hall, McKenny can't help but offer his services to
the Sun, saying while efforts to unionize the paper in the past have failed,
his group is there for us.
"If you want, give us a call."
-------------------------
A good friend will come and bail you out of jail . . . but, a true friend will
be sitting next to you saying, "Damn . . . that was fun!"
-----Unknown
603824.html
Homeless left out in cold again
By SUSAN SHERRING -- For the Ottawa Sun
Tattoos cover much of her upper body -- stars, skulls, bones. Her pretty face
has been pierced many times, a nose ring, lip ring, studs in several other
places.
And she carries her Bic lighter in between her ample cleavage, decorated with
yet another tattoo.
But once she speaks, any first impressions her physical appearance might have
prompted are quickly dispelled.
Joni Reed talks intelligently about life on the streets, about having to "couch
surf" during the winter months, about finding somewhere to sleep outside during
the summer.
At 18, she's seen a side of life few of us will ever glimpse. One of those
camped out at Ottawa City Hall, she says she's not sure where she'll go if
they're forced to leave.
She has no home to go to, no address at which to receive welfare, getting
little more than $100 a month for what's described as a street allowance.
She says she's trying to get her act together but life hasn't given her many
breaks. Put up for adoption at six months, she and her sister were in foster
homes for much of their lives. She hasn't seen her mother in years and doesn't
get along with her father.
Reed comes across as a bright, if troubled, young woman but she admits her
problems run deep. She has an eating disorder, does drugs, drinks and often
feels depressed and suicidal.
"I've been in and out of psych wards, hospitals. But I'm trying to get it
together. I've got a good head on my shoulders," she says.
Between the tattoos on her arms are deep scars, the result of self-inflicted
cigarette and lighter burns during times of sadness, depression, sometimes even
extreme happiness.
But her story, while gut-wrenching, doesn't stand out among this group of
homeless people. And while their protest has lasted for almost two months, this
group doesn't whine about their lot in life.
A fortysomething woman opens up about her past, though she asks that her name
not be used because she doesn't want her fellow campers to know all about her
life.
She wears her heart on her sleeve, this pretty, plump woman with warm, dark
eyes.
Abused by her mother as a child, then by one of her two husbands, her eyes well
up as she admits to being afraid.
"I'm afraid of what might happen if the police come," she admits. "I've had a
lot of pain in my life, I don't want any more."
Her mother's beatings, she suggests, left their mark. So fearful is she of the
possibility of violence if the police physically force them to leave, she plans
to return to a rooming house she shares with several other women, a place she
says smells so horribly of urine she can hardly stay there.
While she isn't homeless, her boyfriend is and she wants to be by his side
during this protest -- one she believes in.
As she speaks about her past, about getting pregnant in Grade 9, about her
three children being in the care of the Children's Aid Society, a deal is being
cut which will affect her future. But it's a deal she and most of the other
homeless protesters appear to know little or nothing about.
One of those involved is Khalid Lasfar, who is desperate to be considered the
official spokesman for the protesters. They're not buying into it.
An overbearing, rude man, he intimidates several of the protesters, and
unsuccessfully attempts to do the same thing with reporters. Lasfar was one of
those in on a meeting with Ottawa Mayor Bob Chiarelli, set up at the mayor's
request by Sean McKenny, president of the Ottawa Labour Council.
While McKenny might have the desired mediation skills, the group of protesters
with their incredible hard-luck stories haven't been consulted. Some of them
say they'll chain themselves to the Human Rights Mmonument if anyone tries to
evict them.
McKenny says he's just trying to strike a deal, but like Lasfar, he appears
more than a little controlling, complaining that councillors like Osgoode Coun.
Doug Thompson and Innes Coun. Rainer Bloess could get in the way of a deal.
It seems somehow ironic, and more than a little sad, that a marginalized group
of society are once again caught in the middle of something so out of their
control.
On his way back into City Hall, McKenny can't help but offer his services to
the Sun, saying while efforts to unionize the paper in the past have failed,
his group is there for us.
"If you want, give us a call."
-------------------------
A good friend will come and bail you out of jail . . . but, a true friend will
be sitting next to you saying, "Damn . . . that was fun!"
-----Unknown
