Federal housing advocate Marie-Josée Houle has called the proliferation of homeless encampments in Canada’s cities a human rights crisis.
“People living in camps face some of the most vulnerable conditions of any member of Canadian society. . . They have a history of human rights abuses and are at increased risk of additional violations,” he wrote in an interim report released on the camps. this month.
Alexandra Flynn, an associate professor of law at the University of British Columbia who studies housing issues, says it’s hard to know how many people have nowhere to live in Canada and how many of them have to shelter in tents or sleep outside.
But, based on reports from those on the front lines, homelessness is spreading across the country, he said in a recent interview, as is the number of encampments.
“It’s a huge deal,” Flynn said. What’s also new is the extent to which small and medium-sized municipalities are experiencing a dramatic increase in homelessness. And a lot of them don’t have the resources to solve the challenge: they haven’t been in a scenario where they’ve had to. “
The Canadian press sent reporters to camps across the country to find out who lives there and why. Here’s what they found:
‘Suffering Brings Us Here’: Unavoidable Personal Injuries on the Streets of British Columbia’s Capital
Rose Dove takes all your belongings with you wherever you go. His belongings, clothes, sleeping bag, tent and the piece of wood he uses to cover himself are attached to a giant skateboard that he pulls like a rickety caravan.
Dove recently said she’s been sleeping outside for 3 weeks, pitching her tent at night in parks where she feels safest and going out in the morning.
“I don’t have a fixed address,” says Dove, 37, who moved from coast to coast for more than five years before returning to Victoria from Quebec last month.
“At heart, I’m from British Columbia,” he says.
Dove looks down at Pandora Avenue, a main thoroughfare leading into downtown Victoria, and expresses sorrow for the others who have pitched tents along the grassy median known as Harris Green.
The Our Place Society shelter, which provides meals, systems and some housing services, is on one side of Pandora and an overdose prevention site on the other.
“It’s suffering that brings us here,” Dove says. “That’s why you end up in a tent. “
He says he suffers from substance abuse, intellectual illness, and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. She has two children but no longer has custody of them.
“I’m addicted to crack,” Dove says.
She says the other people she meets in Harris Green, who are homeless and sleep in tents, suffer deep personal wounds that they look at but can’t escape.
A Victorian law allows temporary shelter-in-place in nine designated municipal parks from 7 p. m. at 7 a. m. for other homeless people. The city has been embroiled in several legal battles started by homeless advocates who say Victoria doesn’t offer enough shelter spots.
‘It’s a crisis’: Bringing homelessness to the doorstep of Newfoundland politicians
Robert Osmond was one of the first to pitch a tent this month on a vast mountainous terrain directly across from the Newfoundland and Labrador Legislative Assembly building.
The 41-year-old is experiencing homelessness for the first time in his life after the landlord evicted him and his roommate just six months ago. Osmond says the landlord told them the space needed renovations and then put the assets back on the market, without making any adjustments and at double the previous rent.
Since then, Osmond, who has run out of paintings, has slept anywhere he can: on couches, in cars, and finally in his tent along a busy four-lane highway in front of the provincial government building. Ten days after setting up camp, his tent was surrounded by more than two dozen others.
The camp has become the center of a growing protest against the housing situation in the province, where occupants do not enjoy comfortable and solid housing instead of a bed in a shelter.
Newfoundland and Labrador spent more than $5 million in the last fiscal year to space out other people in privately owned shelters. Residents of the camp say the shelters are unsafe, unsanitary and unclean and that it’s better to live in a tent, even if it means braving the city’s infamous winds and autumn rains.
Osmond says he’s glad so many other people have found a place to stay at the encampment, but he was dismayed to see how many other people like him are experiencing homelessness.
“It sucks,” he said. But it shows what the situation of the homeless is here. It’s a crisis. “
‘We’re stuck’: Quebec housing shortage pushes encampments to suburbs
Tents have become commonplace on Bourassa Street in Montreal’s Longueuil suburb, as the shelter in an old church around the corner attracts more people than it can accommodate.
Nestled between tennis courts, a library, and rows of usually single-family homes, La Halte du Coin was created as an emergency resource at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic.
The transition centre does not have showers or individual toilets. “There are questions of dignity,” says the center’s director, Pierre Rousseau. “In emergency mode. . . It used to be acceptable. Now, that’s no longer the case.
Still, demand has only increased in recent months, he says, as the local housing crisis has intensified and other homeless people in other cities (including Montreal, across the St. Lawrence River) have turned to suburban shelters.
The Halte du Coin accepts another 20 people each night to sleep on cots in the nave of the church. Lately, 10 to 12 more people are turned away every day. Rousseau says the shelter plans to increase its capacity for 35 more people, but only moving to new construction will improve the situation.
Dani Pap, who has lived in Longueuil for five years, is among those who have started to pitch tents outside the church.
Pap, who became homeless due to what he calls a series of bad luck with landlords, says he’s stuck in a vicious cycle and can’t find long-term housing.
“We are stuck,” Pap said, imploring governments to “act temporarily as more and more people come” to the camp.
He describes a nighttime stampede in front of La Halte du Coin, with some sleeping under picnic tables and others huddled in front of tents in the warmth of strangers.
Not everyone is welcome.
“They make noise. There are vandals. They’re flying,” Pap says. “A lot of things that are unsightly and save us from moving forward. “
He hopes to eventually see more investment for supportive housing, but suggests that in the meantime, the Canadian military may be the one finding itself homeless by offering tents, mattresses and other supplies.
‘What we need most now is warmth’: Halifax’s historic square fills with tents
During the Grand Parade in downtown Halifax, the front of City Hall and a cenotaph’s house are filled with tents.
Ric Young has been living in the makeshift camp for about three months and says as many of the other 20 people who live there are, like him, only occasionally.
“When the public says they hate to see the park like this, I just have to say, ‘Accept it as true, we hate being in this park,'” Young said. “Most of the other people in this park are just other people. “who can’t locate a place. “
It is one of more than 30 homeless encampments spread across the Halifax Regional Municipality, where, according to the city’s most recent records, another 1,014 people are experiencing homelessness and looking for solid housing.
Young says he’s seen as many as 30 tents crammed into the plaza’s limited green space, and it helps keep an extra tent ready for others who arrive with nowhere to sleep.
“You don’t realize how many other people are one step away from homelessness,” she said. “People live in their cars, surf on couches, and don’t count them in any statistics,” he says.
The 47-year-old Newfoundland man worked in a restaurant kitchen and lived in an apartment in downtown Halifax until June, when he says his landlord terminated the lease to renew it. With high rents and few spare rooms, he had trouble locating an apartment and ended up staying in a tent. He says he had to quit his job.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s impossible,” he says of his work in a restaurant while sleeping rough.
Young, who apologized for the mess scattered around the place, says staying in a tent becomes increasingly complicated as the temperature drops. The only way to rest is to fall asleep early before it gets too cold, but that’s not simple with Halifax’s raucous bar. scene.
He concentrates on finding a position and does what he can to stay warm.
“The biggest desire right now is warmth, just warmth. It is one of the essential goods of life that each and every human being deserves. . . I don’t think we’re asking for too much. “
‘It Can Happen to You’: Edmonton’s Plea for Camp Tolerance
Joshua Bell had a home, a family, and two dogs in Waterloo, Ontario. After landing in Edmonton two years ago, he became homeless.
He lives with a cousin who kicked him out after an argument over a dumpling box.
“It can happen to you,” he said. With the push of a button, you might be left with nothing. “
Bell, 41, lives in a four-tent encampment, a homeless center in downtown Edmonton near police headquarters. He fills his tent with his new dog.
He stayed in eight other camps in the city. He says he needs to find a place to live and a podcast host to focus on homelessness and other things.
Bell says he doesn’t drink or use drugs and tries not to associate with others who do. To get food or anything warm for the winter, go to network centers and food soup kitchens.
Bell says he’s not begging. The first winter he spent in Edmonton, he went to a food court at a mall and was given $10 by older women.
“As soon as I turned my back on him, I started crying,” she says. “I felt pathetic, I felt less than a human being. “
Bell says it’s hard to recover and living on the streets is dangerous. Her wallet and purse were recently stolen.
He identifies three degrees of homelessness: “There are other people who need to get out of here. There are other people who don’t need to leave here. And there are other people who can’t get out of here. »
He says it would be better if the government stopped seeking to get other people off the streets who can’t or don’t need to get off the streets and help those who need to get off the streets. “Find us a place in the city where we’re allowed to be there, where we don’t feel like we’re breaking the law just because we have to set up camp. “
‘It’s Never Too Late’: Thunder Bay Boy Hopes to Break Cycle of Prison and Addiction
Oskar Balaban pitched a tent one day in July at one of two camps in Thunder Bay, Ontario.
The 34-year-old arrived from Poland with his family when he was 3 years old.
After a quiet upbringing in the Toronto-area cities of Mississauga and Burlington, he began having alcohol and law disorders as a teenager. He has travelled all over Canada since leaving his country and has been imprisoned several times since then.
She moved west about a decade ago to try to be with her two children from two past relationships, but her efforts failed.
Over the years, his addictions have gone from alcohol to cocaine, then crack, and now methamphetamine. He lived in a shelter in Winnipeg for a year until March.
“I spent a year looking for myself, to be in my son’s life and have him back in my care, but that didn’t happen at all, so I got here,” Balaban says, his voice muffled.
On his first night in Thunder Bay, he slept in a hospital emergency room. The hospital then reserved a bed for the local Salvation Army. Balaban says he went through a healing program there and didn’t take medication for a few months.
But after a relapse, he was kicked out of the program and eventually the shelter. He then spent a month in prison for possession of a stolen car. When she left, she had nowhere to go, so she set up a tent with her new friend across the Kaministiquia River.
“We’re a big little network here, but you have to take care of yourself,” he said in August.
You’re on a waiting list for social housing, but, as in the rest of Canada, that wait can last only months or years. He hopes that having a position to live will help him better manage his addictions.
“I have to be a part of my children’s lives,” she says. “My dream is to move west and be with my kids. It’s never too late, right?
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