A single mother, determined and waiting
With their names on the list to move to another building, Yordanos Gebreab’s 1-year-old daughter could be 6 by the time they get out of 220 Oak St., which hasn’t proved to be a safe place to raise a child. But there’s no easy way out
Yordanos Gebreab grabs the cockroach scuttling across the living room wall with the closest thing at hand, her toddler’s tiny grey sock.
She whisks it into the bathroom, cooing and apologizing to her 1-yearold, Gidena Mulugeta. She resumes her place on the cushioned mattress that lies directly on the cool-to-the-touch floor, snuggling up to the unfazed child.
The 45-year-old single mother has been trying to build walls with her arms, within the walls of her small unit at 220 Oak St., since Gidena was born: shielding her from the elements, from the potential dangers outside.
“It’s not easy, trust me,” she says, kissing the little girl’s face, softly singing ‘Happy Birthday’ now and then; Gidena turned 1 this August to much fanfare. Shy at first, the little girl quickly picks up on the game, responding to her mother with a quiet, “Happy, happy.”
There are many invaders here. Some crawl in from outside, other larger dangers lurk beyond the door.
“You have to have a distance,” Gebreab says. “We’re going to move from this building one day.”
On a recent morning there was a fire in a garbage chute, carrying smoke to her floor that left them with trouble breathing. Gebreab packed up her daughter, but with the elevators not working she didn’t have a way to get downstairs from her upper floor. She called the fire department to help get Gidena downstairs.
Gebreab has lived in the public housing highrise for 13 years, after arriving in Canada from Eritrea in 1998. She was brought here by an arranged marriage, sponsored by her husband — once her neighbour back home — whom she later divorced.
Gidena has been here all her short life. With their names on the waiting list, Gidena might be 6 by the time they move to another TCHC building.
The baby with big brown eyes who smiles and laughs and nibbles on chunks of fridge-cold watermelon is a blessing for Gebreab. Her twin sister died just two days after their premature births.
“She’s probably the first and the last,” Gebreab says. “I have to give her a chance.” Even if it means suffering herself. It’s a slow ride inside the building’s metal-clad elevators from the top floors to the lobby. Squished inside one day, Gebreab says a man made a lewd comment about breastfeeding, then reached across and fondled her breast. Gebreab didn’t fight back.
“This moment, I just have to pass this moment, just for my baby and for my self,” she says later, safe inside the apartment. “I just pray until ground.”
Still, she says she’s been lucky with her floor, this lot in life. The onebedroom unit is more than enough room for them, she says. It’s rela- tively quiet; there are a few neighbours who are available in emergencies, and some who qualify as friends, passing strong, hot coffee over the too-close balcony railings.
She is determined to make the most of what she has right now, painting and repainting her own unit when the coats used by Toronto Community Housing never seem to last. She scrubs the apartment clean and has hung a few pictures and other personal mementos on the walls.
“We have to enjoy our home,” she says to Gidena, getting her attention: “Gee-den-ah.”
The team of workers from Cota embedded at 220 Oak has been helpful, Gebreab says, even though she knows she needs less help than others, such as checking things online and finishing applications.
“No matter what, they try to help. They are good people,” she says. “I’m so happy when I see them sometimes.”
Though she’s applied many times, the mom-and-daughter duo has been denied a quick exit from 220 Oak, sometimes afforded by TCHC under limited circumstances due to so few units and thousands of people waiting to be housed and rehoused. Gebreab says she told TCHC officials about how she struggles to keep Gidena — born at six months and just over two pounds — healthy.
She wants to get back to work soon, but hopes to get away from her previous gig as a hair stylist. She’d like to help others by using her restaurant skills in a kitchen, maybe a shelter or a hospital. Now that a child-care spot has been secured for Gidena close by in Regent Park, she stands a chance.
Gebreab knows she might be rehoused more quickly if she applies for buildings outside of the downtown core, but that means moving away from what little supports they have now.
So, she says, “I’m just waiting.”