What I know and don’t know

You might think I carried a grudge. Not true. I just happen to know a thing or two, and I have a long memory.

I know that public housing is one of the lovely obligations we have to each other. I also know that you and I are the landlord, which means that what happens in public housing happens in our name. Here are other things I know: There are people living in rooms with mouldy walls in buildings where the elevators do not work, where the smell of urine lingers in the stairwells, where people step over the litter of drug use.

I know you can’t fix these problems by selling housing stock.

I know how complicated it is to deal with bedbugs. I know TCHC has hired a bedbug specialist. I know the Titanic had lifeboats.

I know that the best way to deal with bedbugs is with professional pest control treatment, sensitive maintenance, and a full dose of social work.

I know there are tenants who keep their mouths shut about their problems because they fear reprisals. I know there are countries in the world where people live in fear of speaking up. I did not think this was one of them.

I know the meaning of preventive maintenance. I know the purpose of annual inspections. I know that the fire at 200 Wellesley Ave. would not have started if everyone involved had done what they were supposed to do.

I know that the man they called Dirty George died in conditions that would appall a beggar in a third-world slum. I know the woman who wandered the halls of her building covered in her own feces. I know that no one listened to her neighbour’s cries for help on her behalf.

I know a young mother whose bathtub began to spew sewage until her entire apartment — including her baby’s bedroom — was flooded. I know what happened when she called the emergency line: she was told to calm down.

I know that when sewage is flooding your apartment, you only ever want to hear that help is on the way right now.

I know the problems caused by a few bad apples. I know of men and women who died in their apartment and who were not found for months.

I know Chinese seniors who were confused because their rent statements were written, not in Chinese, but in such lousy English that they were impenetrable. I know it took a special meeting to sort that out. I’m not sure it is sorted out.

I know that some 9,000 of the 168,000 tenants who live in social housing have issues with their mental health such that, if we had the resources, they would qualify for assisted living or some other form of special care; as it stands now, they don’t get special care. I know how Al Gosling died. I know that after Al’s death, an inquiry recommended that TCHC improve the way it treats its vulnerable tenants, and that it hire a tenant ombudsman. I know that, a year and a half later, TCHC has yet to act on that recommendation.

I know an elderly deaf woman who was served with an eviction notice, effective Christmas Day.

I know that Bud March, an 81year-old man, has just been summoned to an eviction hearing for rent arrears, a situation that he does not understand.

I know that TCHC uses the threat of eviction as a tool of social work.

I requested an interview with Len Koroneos, the interim head of TCHC, to talk about some of these things. He declined to be interviewed. Why? I do not know.