After a fire in a London homeless camp, 'home' is what they hang onto
Some people living in Watson Street Park invited CBC News inside their tents to show how they live
What makes a home? For many people at the homeless camp in London's Watson Street Park, it's a question of what they've held onto in the face of loss.
For John, who lives in a neatly-kept tent on the southwestern fringe of the park located east of Wellington Street near the Thames River, it's a sense of community. Some joke that John is the camp's "mayor" because he so obviously cares about this neighbours.
That sense of care was on full display when a nearby tent exploded into flames earlier this week.
"I heard an explosion," John said of the fire that started Monday. His tent is directly beside what's left of his neighbour's. "I came out and the camp itself was completely in flames."
John said a number of other explosions followed, preventing he and the others from venturing closer, for fear of more explosions.
"Our first concern was that our neighbours were in the tent," he said. "They weren't in there, so thank God."
Firefighters arrived quickly and made short work of the flames. On Wednesday, all that remains of the tent next door to John's are a few charred belongings lying in the dirt below a maple tree that's visibly blackened where the inferno licked at its branches as high as six metres up.
Luxuries most people take for granted
CBC News was invited by some of the approximately 25 people currently living at Watson Street Park to visit the encampment to get a look at daily life. People there are all homeless for different reasons, and many would not identify themselves beyond a first name.
For most, the idea of home is the place where their parents raised them, or the place where they raise their kids. At Watson Street Park, "home" is more of a feeling — something that brings joy, maybe something they can't live without, or something that gives them a quiet sense of dignity and pride.
"They took off and haven't been back," Karla, said of the people who once lived in the incinerated tent next-door.
After the fire, she said, she scrubbed down the tarp that keeps the rain out of her makeshift living room. Despite working hard to get it out, the smell the wood smoke still clings to the air inside.
Karla said she likes her neighbours, but isn't big on socializing. She prefers a broom or a scrub brush. The worst thing about being homeless, she said, is not being able to get things as clean as she'd like to be. It's why she said her boyfriend built her a makeshift shower.
"I cover myself with a blanket. I just shower real quick and I run back in here. I don't really ask for much," she said, thinking aloud about what could make things feel more like home.
Some of the residents of Watson Street Park say they take great pride in where they lay their heads, but they freely admit the space doesn't actually belong to them.
Watson Street Park was the site of the city's homeless outdoor service depots, offering basic needs and washrooms. It ended for the season in January, and when people moved on, homeowners in the area were upset by the garbage left behind along the waterway.
City workers can and, often do, issue evictions. In an instant, they can pile the accumulation of a person's life, prized possession from clothes to keepsakes, can be thrown into the back of a truck, sometimes, with little warning.
-
London city hall is clearing homeless people from this park. Where will they go?
-
In winter, homeless people often face a painful choice: fire or frostbite
"Every effort is made to address safety concerns when they arise, and when a resolution isn't possible, we support individuals to relocate to safer spaces," Andrea Rosebrugh, a city hall spokesperson wrote to CBC News in an email.
"The city and community outreach partners continue to approach encampments with compassion and a desire to support those who are living unsheltered in our city."
Rayanna St. John, another camper in the park, explains that she is homeless again after being evicted. She said she thinks about her children and longs for a safe, clean home, that isn't a tent.
"I want to have a home with my children again," she explained. "[My son], he's like 'mom, not trying to be rude, but I don't want to go there.'"
To fill the void, St. John does good deeds. On Wednesday, she collects lunch delivered for free by volunteers from a social agency. She said she gets joy from making others feel happy.
"I feel selfish sometimes because it's like I feed on other people's happiness. Someone's got to be a strong one, right?"
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
with files from Andrew Brown