|
|
As I walk down East Hastings I can't help but think that I've stumbled into a war zone. People shake their heads at invisible voices, others talk to themselves, trembling from drug effects. Most disturbing are the empty, blank stares. Eyes with no hope- not knowing the possibility of a future.
At this time of year, the air is cold and thick amid the throngs. Casually, a street vendor approaches me, and in a hushed tone asks, "Pipes, pipes for sale?" Another voice cries out, "You stole my pipe!" "I did not", screams another. A scuffle breaks out, as the prized item is fought over. In the midst of the chaos I wonder what callousness has allowed the streets to become like this. Before I can collect my thoughts an ambulance rushes by, its sirens swallowing the street noise. Almost instantly it' gone and the din of the street returns. To most, the passing of the ambulance is hardly noticeable as business continues on. Not much can draw the attention of the street people. A sale means freedom. And that freedom comes from another fix in the near future.
I am sitting in Jacob's well now. Free from the whispers of a darkening world. Jacob's Well is a place that believes in relationship ministry. I listen to Joyce Heron spin her tale of the street tragedies and of East Hastings' history. She talks of prostitutes that have been on these streets since childhood, now hooked on drugs. A pimp holds these prostitutes for ransom, but he is in a more desperate situation. Joyce talks of the rules and laws that govern these streets, that for many have brought an eternity of pain.
While she continues, her eyes light up as she talks about Pauleen, 85, a small, wispy lady known well in the area. "Pauleen stories" abound, but Joyce tells of a late morning when Pauleen purposefully walked into a drug deal. "She walks up to the dealers and puts her hands on top of the transaction". "Jimmy," she said, "didn"t you say your were finished with this dealing?" Instead of quick anger from the drug dealers, there was regret and shame. The drugs bust turned into a confessional.
Joyce continues, Pauleen would take walks in the neighborhood. All of a sudden a shift in the activity occurred and peoples' attention would focus on her. Pauleen, someone would shout, can you pray for my mom? She's sick and diagnosed with cancer. Pauleen would stop and pray for the mom, all part of her daily routine. After a few minutes she would continue her walk.
I have come to Murrayville to meet Pauleen. All five feet four of her invites me in to sit on her couch in front of a warm fire. She asks me how I am doing. Once the pleasantries have past, it is all about business. And that business is talking about her true love, helping people. Pauleen has been walking these streets for more than twenty-four years. She can still remember how street ministry began and what it meant at the time. She remembers how men thought that helping the down and out was exclusively a man's work. And how her friend was the catalyst in opening the doors for women to do street ministry. Pauleen's sparkling blue eyes, charismatic nature and beautiful white hair beguile her age and true ambitions. One would pass her off as a grandma who knits socks, clip coupons and plays bridge, not a lady who succumbs to the challenge of making a difference in one of the lowest income areas in North America. She prayer walks consistently, while at the same time contemplating what the age of eighty-six will bring. She visits the ghetto, to meet people on their level, trying to build relationships with prostitutes, addicts, homeless, drug dealers and pimps. Her grandson confides in me, he thinks she is crazy, she is worried about the doors being locked in Murrayville, but has no problem in going downtown and walking the streets.
As I listen to Pauleen, I think of 'The Fix', a documentary film about Vancouver's growing drug problem. At the open forum following the movie, former Vancouver mayor Phillip Owen spoke on the drug problem in East Vancouver. Owen focuses on the drug dealer and regards him as the evil that has perpetrated the crime. He believes that part of the solution is to decriminalize soft drugs, impose harsher penalties on drug dealers and to introduce safe injection sites for addicts. As I listen to the spin, I'm taken back to my time in New York. My companions and I would stay at the Waldorf and take a limousine downtown to party, discussing the stock market and the things we were going to buy as we anticipated the evening hunt for women. Before entering the bars, we would pop ecstasy to get us in the frame of mind. Inside, thousands of kids were dancing, entranced by the music and drugs. It's their eyes that trigger my memory. The same empty, blank stares that greeted me in the wealthy clubs of New York are the same ones that greet me on East Hastings.
Pauleen loves her work and finds no easier place to talk to people than skid row. This community allows for an openness that is not readily apparent in the real world. People have time for one another to the point of even talking to each other. It is because of this openness that Pauleen is so optimistic. I really feel like God is going to bless the downtown area. I had a vision, where I saw a church involved and a gate involved.
|
Tags
You must be logged in to add tags.
|
Writer Profile
Andrew Lauman
I find writing to be so opposite to whom I am. I did miserably at English as any of my proof readers or profs could tell you. My thoughts of sitting in one place for periods of time do not give me chills of excitement. However, I have found great satisfaction in allowing my thoughts to be found in the release of writing. I have been able to share some of my deeper emotions through my poems and this has been a wonderful creative process for me! Thanks to TIG for the opportunity.
|
Comments
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.
|
|
