A SIGN OF THE TIMES? It’s ‘full house’ at the City Mission now

Press, 26 December 1979, Page 11

A SIGN OF THE TIMES? It’s ‘full house’ at the City Mission now

Story by

ALAN SAMSON

Photographs by

"Jesus, God, somebody help me ... " There is a crash and the sound of someone writhing. It is midnight at the night shelter of the Christchurch Anglican City Mission. Just over a week before Christmas. Earlier, a church group had joined the evening service, singing carols. Now the residents — the derelict, the unemployed, the homeless — were lying motionless on their bunks. Except one. The night attendant, Tony Armstrong, struck a match and watched the youth quieten. “Call me if it happens again and we’ll put him downstairs where we can keep an eye on him,” he said. It didn't happen again. In the bunk below me, an old man coughed raucously all night. “F .. .'n retchin',” he muttered. ‘’Yeah, bastard isn’t it.” Someone understood. The first city mission, the St Martins House of Help, was opened in Salisbury Street 50 years ago “The Press” of September 16. 1931, described its operation as follows: "The pitiful faces of the seekers after food and clothing tell their own sad stories. The men wait in the patch of ground before the house, sheltered from the street by screens of sacking, and the women have the use of a waiting room “ . . 1 he poverty that for the most part lies underneath rises to the surface ... the winter is not yet over and unless the house can continue to

house those 250 destitute families they are doomed to almost certain starvation.” Today's mission, in Hereford Street, is considerably more comfortable. There's a television lounge, bunks for 24 men and women. Some old armchairs, old couches. The bunks are restful with foam rubber mattresses and clean linen. No-one seems to be starving. But the City Missioner, Captain Peter Coughlan, believes the comparison between now and then is not only valid, but should be made. “I find it interesting,” he says. “The same sorts of things are happening as during the depression years. In 1930. there was the spectre of unemployment — a world problem . “The society then was not aware it was in a down-turn. You see, it doesn’t hit the affluent for some considerable time. I see many of the signs now. It’s a beacon of society. It’s happening now. take warning.” The signs? In the whole of 1978, the shelter served five or six thousand hot meals. In November of this year alone. 1100 were served. In 1978, the shelter housed 561 men and 66 women; in 1979 (the year ending 30 June) 720 men and 57 women were given beds. Last month, 108 men and four women made use of mission hospitality. It is getting busy. Tn 1976. the then City Missioner (the Rev. B. E. Loveridge) said that alcohol was the major prob-

lem to be dealt with. In 1979, Captain Coughlan states firmly: "Alcohol is a problem, but not the biggest. The biggest problem is unemployment.” No-one questions you when you first enter 'the shelter, except to ask you where you spent your last night. You are assigned a bed and, if it’s ciose to 5.30 p.m., you will probably be fed. This night it was roast beef, peas, mashed potatoes, and a thick brown gravy. Some come just for the meal. “If that’s mission food, I’ve had it.” says one. But he looks as if he has enjoyed it. And he'll be back. When the mis-

sion has helped people into flats, they often find their money disappears into bonds, a week’s rent in advance, and a week’s rental to the letting agent. The mission encourages them to come back for meals. Where necessary, they budget for them too, or administer their finances.

After the meal, it’s back upstairs to the lounge and the television. “Stars on Sunday” is showing and someone quickly switches over to the other channel. Some of the younger ones, bored, head off into town. There is a door to the side of the main entrance. Residents can leave unnoticed and unsupervised. But it is suggested they

return by 10.30 p.m. — or they might find their beds occupied.

Most start wandering back by eight or nine, the slow, measured tread upstairs of an old man, or the light spring of a couple of teen-agers. It is quite startling, this contrast between the young and the old. There has been an influx of young staying here in the last three or four months. Captain Coughlan sees this as significant; more signs. The social worker in charge of the shelter (Mrs M. Holland) points out that it is th® extremes who can't get work. The

PETER RITCHIE

youngest here is just 16. The oldest is in his eighties. By 11 o'clock, most of the oldies are lying awake on their bunks. The ones of middle years are mucking about with their bedding or watching television. The young are talking.

They are talking about girls. They are talking about motor-bikes. They are talking about cigarettes. No-one is talking about jobs. “If no jobs are around, they get depressed. In this setting you try to talk- about the positives, try to show that you know something and are useful.” Captain Coughlan says. Most have lost the drive

for work, have lost the work habit. Under the stand-down system, if a person walks ’ off his job or does not attend regularly, he is deemed to be voluntarily unemployed. His benefit is stopped and it is six week.; before it will be resumed.

“It’s as if society says we’ve got to punish somebody,” Captain. Coughlan says. "This unemployment is a sin and we’ve got to put the blame somewhere. But they’ve just had their motivation knocked back.” Mission staff do not force religion or morals down throats. On the first night, they are not questioned at all because thev

are in a crisis situation. Later, the mission social workers will offer counsel. The emphasis is on getting people into jobs, fostering independence, on helping them to move on. Church services are provided, but attendance is strictly voluntary. Most slay away. Some attend for the biscuits they hand out. In the old days, church was compulsory. ' Now things are much more relaxed. The immediate needs of people come first. The mission’s attitude to alcohol is the same. Once, the worst cases might have been politely referred to Hagley Park but today everybody is accepted. There is a special

“detox” room for those in a very bad state — mattresses on the floor over plastic sheeting. They are safe and warm and looked over.

So far, the mission has managed at least to' provide a bed for all of the city’s homeless. But there are signs that things are getting worse. Captain Coughlan does not offer advice to the Government or the nation’s economists, he merely describes what he sees. Captain Coughlan sees poverty. He is reminded of the depression. To ease the situation, he would like to see a shorter working week, job sharing, and people moving into retirement a bit earlier. It would be nice if re-educa-tion centres could be started to impart new skills for new jobs. He would like more specialised help available for the destitute who have psychological disorders and, somewhere in the city', a place for young girls to be looked after. In the meantime, as the last place to go, there is the night shelter and a measure of sustenance. “We like people to have at least one hot meal a day,” says the City Missioner. Now it is 6 a.m. In a couple of hours, all the residents must pack and leave for the day. They are offered bed and board only. A well-fed journalist walks downstairs, out of doors and home. He has scrambled eggs for breakfast. It is a week before Christmas.