How's that for a title? Well, they were. I just saw today one of the survivors of the CLM, as they were also known. He knew me before I knew him. Time and a very hard life has aged him beyond recognition. He still isn't old and of course is still younger than me. He would be in his early or mid-forties?
He was pushing a grocery buggy that contained empties and his worldly possessions and most of his teeth are missing now, one of many people in this country who cannot afford dental care. He smiled when he saw me and I was honoured that so many years later that he would recognize and be glad to see me. In the early nineties, more than twenty years ago I used to take him and many of his friends on the street for a bite to eat in local restaurants and food courts.
I, or should I say we, had money in those days. I was part of a Christian community and one of our members had bequeathed to us the proceeds of the sale of her condo. I had at my disposal a seeming bottomless pot of money to feed and shelter the many young people languishing on the streets, early casualties of the kind of global capitalism that has pushed many to the margins. I didn't think twice about what I was doing. For me it was Christ's work and I felt surprised and a bit annoyed when some people tried to laud me for being courageous. But these people were not dangerous. They were my friends. I was able to help them at least for the moment.
What I lacked was the resources to be able to help them leave the street. They were almost all on drugs and alcohol and almost all were hobbled by issues of trauma and childhood abuse and poverty. For the most part they didn't trust anyone. To the extent that some, for example my friend pushing the grocery buggy, were able to give me trust during that time was for me an honour I still do not feel worthy of.
I do know that at least three of them, probably more now, are dead. They were all in their early twenties or late teens: suicide, overdose, illness. I did not pretend to have the answers for them nor the ability to help them in the long run. I only could do my part to help keep them alive long enough to still be a problem tomorrow. I could not help nor even suggest to them that they go in for treatment. They knew this already. In some ways I was practicing a kind of early form of harm reduction, I suppose.
One of them told me back in 1989 when I took him for coffee and a bite to eat that they were named "Crazy little motherfuckers" by racist skinheads who tried to attack them only to get the crap beat out of them by these rangy street punks or crazy little motherfuckers. So they adopted this name, CLM for short. Many stayed together in the same squat, becoming a street family, taking care of one another but also keeping each other from getting out or getting well. I became their friend. I would say some of them even loved me. In a way I was just doing my job (I was in full time street Christian ministry then) and that I was being obedient to God. I believe this to this day.
When the community and the street ministry came to an end there were no supports available for me to help transition me into ordinary life. I was also traumatized by the deaths and the heart ache that had seared my life. My church did nothing to help or support me and eventually I was also homeless for a while and ill with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).
I have long since recovered. I am not able to help my friend or others the way I used to. I work at a real job now, a job that is also a ministry supporting peole with mental health diagnoses towards recovery. After work I am too tired to take street people our for meals. Sometimes I do offer money but not often, knowing that it will end up going up their nose, in their arms, or their lungs or worse. I accept the trade off though I still regret this paralysis I have to live with when I see my old friend or people like him.
As a condition of my recovery I have acquired a strong sense of self-preservation. I sometimes fear that the self-preservation has turned into selfishness. I also know that I am not God and that I have to accept the limits of what I am able to do.
I sometimes hate this arrangement.
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