‘COMMUNITY’ IN VICTORIA’S GROWING HOMELESS CAMP.
A DEEPER LOOK INSIDE VICTORIA’S MUD-BESPATTERED HOMELESS HAVEN
‘Wel come t o my home,” smiled the middleaged man. He calls himself Mud. “Home” is a shack he built from wood scraps and other found stuff. It’s in a small park, next to Victoria’s downtown courthouse.
Repairs are required this wet and cold January morning. A hard rain fell the previous night; water leaked inside Mud’s place. “My work is never done,” he says cheerfully, pulling a plastic sheet over his dwelling’s peaked roof.
Living in a soggy, makeshift hut is uncomfortable and unhealthy. But Mud isn’t going anywhere. He likes it, and besides, he says, he’s got no better place to live than this sodden park.
Tents began appearing here in June; there are now about 100 homeless people living on the courthouse grounds, with more arriving all the time. A 16- year- old girl recently showed up and planted roots.
Dozens of tents and a handful of ramshackle huts are crammed i nside the park, one-quarter the size of an average city block. A twostorey structure serves as a sort of sentry tower, allowing spotters to shout warnings whenever police approach.
Three porta- potties sit in an adjacent parking area, providing some sanitation. A makeshift food- service area is in the centre of the park, next to a “sacred fire” tended by First Nations people.
The grounds are a sticky, muddy gumbo, littered with debris: bicycle parts, broken toys and trash. Drugs are used openly; campers are sometimes robbed in the dead of night. It’s a shocking, scary scene for residents and tourists. While city authorities aren’t happy with the encampment, they say there’s little they can do about it.
“It looks likes a refugee camp,” admits Victoria’s mayor, Lisa Helps. “We should be ashamed of it, as Canadians.” But, she adds, “It’s not the city’s responsibility.”
The park is owned by the province, the mayor points out. That makes it exempt from Victoria’s controversial camping bylaws, which allow anyone to pitch a tent in municipal parks, but only at night. The city’s camping bylaws are earnestly enforced, but there don’t seem to be any rules at the province’s courthouse park. Only those set by its inhabitants.
The B.C. government has said it will move them off. But that hasn’t happened, for reasons the province has yet to articulate.
Social workers from the province’s Ministry of Children and Family Development make regular visits, meeting with the 16-year-old girl. They assess her condition and needs, but they can’t force her to leave. The girl has said she prefers the park to foster care.
The camp’s adults have alternatives, too. Like any Canadian city, Victoria has indoor homeless shelters, but space is tight. The province has recently funded a new, temporary shelter nearby, with space for 40 beds. Rules prohibiting drug use and the storage of personal effects force many people outside, says Mud.
“There’s no clear space for people who use ( drugs), or for alcoholics,” he says. “There definitely aren’ t enough shelters in t his city, and the ones that exist aren’t restful places. There are people screaming and yelling in the middle of the night.”
He claims the Victoria shantytown is “a safe, strong community that sup- ports the individual. We can do what the province can’t.”
The camp has supporters. Students, retirees and outreach workers arrive each morning with fresh supplies: f ood, clothing, bedding. “All our needs seem to be provided,” says Chris Parent, another park resident. “Things seem to manifest. There’s something different in the air here in Victoria.”
On Friday, a handful of local sympathizers dropped off donations and took part in a morning talking circle, where camp news and opinions were shared. The camp’s “security chief ” was robbed of all his cash during the night, one woman said. Another person spoke: Victoria Police Department ( VPD) officers would be coming soon, to look for minors.
A warning c al l went through the park. Seconds later, two VPD officers appeared with a B. C. government social worker.
One of the officers sat with campers at the sacred fire. “I have trust i ssues with the way you use technology,” one of the campers told him. “Well, we won’t be using any technology today. Just walking and talking,” the officer replied. “We’re not concerned about drugs. We just want to make sure that everyone here is safe.”
The s e arch began. A camp supporter led a constable and the social worker from tent to tent, shack to shack. People were roused from their sleep; the constable peered inside each dwelling, then moved to the next shelter.
The process took about an hour. The VPD officers and the social worker left empty- handed. They said they would be back. The campers just shrugged.