In July of last year I wrote a blog post called
“Homelessness Has a Name” about a homeless couple I met in downtown Newhall.
During recent years I have been drawn to the subject of homelessness and just
don’t know what to do to help. I was happy to meet and talk to people who are
trying to survive without the basics that we all take for granted. I was happy
to know their names.
This post is about the voice of homelessness ~ A voice that seldom
speaks, and resides in a body yearning for conversation.
Kalani – In Hawaiian means “the heavens”
I recently spent three weeks in Hawaii. My husband is working there for about four
months, so I go to visit. His housing is
in Waikiki about four blocks off the main street. The main street downtown is where quite a few
homeless people stay. Some asking for
help, some not, but visible, and many times in pairs or groups.
A couple of times a day I would walk past a corner near the
hotel that housed a bus stop…and a person.
It was a pretty busy corner with tourists and residents coming and going
from the bus, and people hustling through the crosswalk like is common in the
city. Also on this corner is a concrete
bench. Probably big enough for three
people to sit, but this bench wasn’t used by those waiting for a bus, it is someone’s
daily perch, and home. For about my first five days there, I watched the person
sitting on the bench surrounded by a pile of worldly possessions. Of the many,
many homeless people living in the city, a large percentage have mental illness
or some type of substance abuse. I
continued to watch and didn’t see any clues that lead me to believe that this
person was a danger. I think what a lot
of people tend to not realize about the homeless is that many of them are
people just like you and me who for some reason or another are down on their
luck. Day in day out, I never saw anyone stop to talk or even say hello. I decided that I wanted to say something;
anything to this person who I thought must be so incredibly lonely.
I am aware of the possible dangers of approaching someone on
the street. On the news that week there had been two attacks by homeless
persons. One who thought a storeowner was a vampire, and another occurred when
a homeless person attacked a woman waiting for a bus for no apparent reason,
causing her some slight physical injury and definite emotional anguish.
I decided to say hello and try to engage in a small
conversation. I asked Bill to go with me and just be close in case something
came up and I needed help. I was nervous and unsure of myself, but it was
important to me. Hello. And that’s how it
started. During the next two and one-half weeks I would stop numerous times. Her
name is Kalani. In Hawaiian it means “the heavens,” such a beautiful name for a
person who never gets to tell anyone what it is. During our second conversation
I asked if she needed anything. She said it was just nice to have someone to talk to. Wow.
My heart crumbled at those words.
We yap and talk and interact all day, sometimes its
meaningful, sometimes its just words flying out and maybe striking someone as
important, or maybe not, and we don’t think anything of it. Just
nice to have someone to talk to. I
can do that. This month is six years
that she has been homeless. She has a
family, but as she said, they “don’t see eye-to-eye.” She was born and raised there, and prefers to
lay low and not be on one of the busy streets of the city. I never smelled alcohol or saw any glimpse of
mental illness. We had some laughs,
talked about different things to do on the island, and other small talk topics.
I asked a few times if there was anything I could get her to make things a
little easier. The only thing she said she could use that would be nice, was a
new backpack. I did bring her a couple
things over the weeks, nothing major, just little things to help. I gave her a
couple dollars here and there, never a lot, and she was very grateful. Before I left, I took her the backpack and a
little bag of necessities. I explained
that I was going home and that I would see her soon. It was difficult walking away from her. I wanted to be able to call her, but she
doesn’t have a phone. I wanted to be
able to write her, but she doesn’t have an address. I wanted to be able to help her, but I’m at a
loss at what to do.
Bill tells me what he sees her doing,; always sitting or
laying on that bench. He has heard her
talking to herself quite a few times, but if you were the only person you had
to talk to – well, its understandable. I
worry about her and am glad he keeps an eye out when he can.
A few weeks after I left, Bill told me that he had stopped
to talk to her. He asked how she was
doing and told her that I asked him to tell her “hi” for me. I didn’t.
He did that all on his own. I
can’t tell you how much that gesture meant to me. If it’s possible to fall more in love in a
minute, then I think I did. I’m so happy
that he understands and supports the things that mean so much to me.
I’m going back soon and am looking forward to sitting and
talking with her. I wonder about her
family, and how this happened to them. I
worry about her and her loneliness. The
loneliness I think worries me more than the homelessness. It’s the people in our lives who make life
worth living, not the things. I so wish
that she had people. I think about her
often. I have so many questions, but
those aren’t for me to ask. If she
offers, then I will listen as long as she wants. I look forward to seeing her, and letting her
use her voice.
Kalani opening the last bag of goodies I took her. After she looked in she said, "What did you doooo?" |
This is where she spends all of her time. In three weeks I never saw her spot empty. I hope that in the middle of the night she walks around and goes places. |