Last year the ‘Students for Sensible Drug Policy’ society successfully campaigned for ecstasy testing kits to be sold in Leeds University Union. The motion was voted in by 1750 votes to 670, but subsequent political conflicts between the Student Executive and the society means the motion remains in the bureaucracy stage.
The following interview with Graham Aitken, SSDP UK Secretary, debates the stigma attached to the campaign group, the need for reform of drug policy and the resistance against changes in drug policy.
click here to listen to the full interview
more information can be found at http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=15813827917&ref=search&sid=504047638.1577371698..1
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Sunday, 25 October 2009
an interview with... Pete Lazenby - a life in newsprint
There probably isn't a person living in West Yorkshire who hasn't read the words of local journalist Pete Lazenby. His traditional 'old hack' style of reporting means he has been at the forefront of many social and political issues in the region. However, Pete's desire to expose and infiltrate the darker issues in local society hasn't come without its troubles.In 2006 his face appeared on the homepage of neo-fascist website 'Redwatch' and he has seen a previous residential address in Guiseley published on the internet. He has also found himself confronted physically in the street on many occasions.
"In some ways being on 'Redwatch' is recognition that as a journalist you must be doing something right and it makes you more determined to keep going."
Pete has worked for the Yorkshire Evening Post (YEP) since 1972, writing at least five million words in the process. Be it the last remaining mole catcher in the Dales or reporting from the front line during the miners strike, Pete has pretty much seen it all.
"I have always loved the written word and even at the age of 10 my head teacher recognised my journalistic endeavour. I was always writing at school and that's just stayed with me ever since. In fact, I was so eager to get in to the industry that I started my role as a trainee for the Wharfedale Observer the day after I sat my last O-Level exam!"
Pete's 'old-school' style of reporting and enthusiasm to get out and about in the local community has meant he was the man to cover many of the major stories to have happened around the region.
"My 'break' really came during the Miners Strike. The media was seen as being biased towards the government, however I was able to get into the mining communities and report their side of the argument. Ever since then I have worked closely alongside trade unions and social groups."
Over the years, Pete has also reported from India, Uzbekistan and following his time spent in reporting from Red Square he was given an honorary Russian citizenship.
"I feel so lucky to have been able to travel and meet so many people through my work. Something that has really stuck with me is when I went to South Africa to report on Nelson Mandela’s election in 1994. Not only was the occasion wonderfully historic but I ended up staying with an ANC activist couple. They took me round to see the places the cameras never showed and I got a glimpse of the true South African state."
Despite all these adventures though, Pete has remained devoted to working and reporting on social issues around Leeds.
"I'm really very interested in homelessness, the poverty caused by unemployment, benefit cuts and racism around Leeds. I've found that I have become much more active and involved in anti-fascism and anti-racism over the years due to my desire to combat the increasing extremism in the area."
This enthusiasm means Pete arrives for work at half past six every morning to see that his stories make the days print and he averages about 4,000 words, each shift. He also writes columns for the Guardian online, the National Union of Journalists magazine (of which he is 'Father of the Chapel' - like a shop steward - for the region) and many other magazines and publications. He was also an instrumental figure in the recent strikes at the Yorkshire Post Newspapers which fought to protect staff from redundancies. However, as he nears his 60s, Pete is looking forward to a more relaxed way of life.
"Next month I'm taking myself down to part-time here at the YEP which will be great as it will allow me to plough some new fields, rebuild some old contacts and focus on the stories that matter most to me. My wife and I have formed Red Lead Media, a freelance journalism operation, which again is really exciting as it's a bit of a change and there are all kinds of different areas we're hoping to branch into. Journalism still gives me that buzz, until that energy dissolves I intend carry on writing and digging for the truth."
Sunday, 18 October 2009
an interview with... M - fleeing from Uganda
I originally come from Gulu in the northern part of Uganda, which for the past twenty years has been subjected to violent armed struggle between the government of Uganda and the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA), a militia group opposed to the government. The LRA has terrorised large parts of the country, particularly the north where I come from.
My husband was an army commander for the Uganda People’s Defence Force, which was set up by the government to defeat the LRA. My husband was involved in covert missions against the LRA and because the rebels never gave up without a fight, many of them were killed in the skirmishes. Often the LRA would retaliate by killing innocent civilians, including my parents who they killed in 1999.
One day in October 2002, one month after my husband had returned from a particularly gruesome encounter with the LRA, we were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunfire and shouting. The next thing we knew, our front door was being kicked down by what sounded like a large group of angry men. My husband rushed out of bed with a pistol he had kept in a drawer by the bed. He confronted the group of men and as they hurled abuse at him I rushed into the room next door where my children were screaming.
I was terrified. I pulled my children close to me and we crept into a wardrobe, cowering with fear. I heard a number of shots in quick succession and could hear the men screaming abuse and insults at our whole family and my husband in particular. I then heard loud thuds and thought they must have overpowered my husband and were beating him up.
The mood in the room next door then changed and I heard someone ask ‘where is the woman?’. They soon found us and pulled us out of the wardrobe. They pulled me away from the children and hurled me on to the floor where they proceeded to rape me one after another. I do not know how many raped me, but I do remember my children sobbing behind their bed.
Suddenly, all the men in the room panicked and ran out of the room - some of them treading on me in their rush to get out. I could smell smoke and knew our house was on fire. I cried to my children who were so petrified they could not move from behind the bed. I somehow gathered enough strength to drag them out of the collapsing building.
I later learnt that my husband had been shot in the head and that his body had been badly mutilated by multiple beatings from rifle butts. I also learnt that the attack was retaliation for the successful mission led by my husband the month before.
With the help of my husband’s best friend, I went into hiding with my two daughters in another part of Uganda. They kept asking for their father, but they were too young to understand what had happened. I was hoping that we would be left in peace, but it was a forlorn hope. Less than three months after my husband had been killed and I was raped, I returned to our new home one day after coming back from church and found our flat had been ransacked and all our belongings were strewn all over the place, including smashed crockery outside the flat. A badly shaken neighbour with a bruised face warned me that the LRA were looking for me and they had attacked him instead, hoping to get information out of him about our whereabouts.
Leaving your country for an unknown destination is traumatic. I did not know I was coming to Britain. It could have been anywhere as long as it was safe for me and my children. But as an asylum seeker in Britain, I soon discovered that it was far from being a warm and welcoming place and I was presented with more traumas.
No one seemed to understand the traumas I had faced and I was refused asylum in the UK. The threat of being sent back to Uganda made me suffer from terrible anxiety and my physical health deteriorated. While I was trying to recover from all my traumas, my house in Leeds was raided in the middle of the night by immigration officials in April 2005 and I was sent to Yarlswood Detention Centre for a month. It was a traumatic experience and reminded me of the time when our house was raided by the LRA rebels 18 months before.
After I was released from Yarlswood, I was referred to Solace for counselling. I was struggling to cope with life when I met Anne, my therapist, at Solace. I had lost hope and life no longer had any meaning for me. Since going to Solace, my state of mind started to improve. The counselling really helped me. But then, in April 2007, I was raided at dawn for a second time and sent back to Yarlswood for four months with my children. Like the first time I was detained, I had committed no crime. It was a real setback for me and once again I lost all hope and was petrified of being deported.
Throughout my time in the detention centre, Solace worked with my solicitor to get me out. Anne came to visit me and offer me support. I applied for bail as that was the only way they would release me. Anne provided surety for me, which I really appreciated as there was no one else to help me.
Solace has always been there for me, especially in the dark times. All the staff are welcoming, friendly and understanding and for me it is like a second home.
At the beginning of 2008, while I was still being subjected to stringent bail conditions, I received a letter from the Home Office saying that I had been granted refugee status, which is a huge relief for me. It came completely out of the blue. Hopefully, my nightmare is over, but I am still going to Solace to try and heal my wounds.
My husband was an army commander for the Uganda People’s Defence Force, which was set up by the government to defeat the LRA. My husband was involved in covert missions against the LRA and because the rebels never gave up without a fight, many of them were killed in the skirmishes. Often the LRA would retaliate by killing innocent civilians, including my parents who they killed in 1999.
One day in October 2002, one month after my husband had returned from a particularly gruesome encounter with the LRA, we were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunfire and shouting. The next thing we knew, our front door was being kicked down by what sounded like a large group of angry men. My husband rushed out of bed with a pistol he had kept in a drawer by the bed. He confronted the group of men and as they hurled abuse at him I rushed into the room next door where my children were screaming.
I was terrified. I pulled my children close to me and we crept into a wardrobe, cowering with fear. I heard a number of shots in quick succession and could hear the men screaming abuse and insults at our whole family and my husband in particular. I then heard loud thuds and thought they must have overpowered my husband and were beating him up.
The mood in the room next door then changed and I heard someone ask ‘where is the woman?’. They soon found us and pulled us out of the wardrobe. They pulled me away from the children and hurled me on to the floor where they proceeded to rape me one after another. I do not know how many raped me, but I do remember my children sobbing behind their bed.
Suddenly, all the men in the room panicked and ran out of the room - some of them treading on me in their rush to get out. I could smell smoke and knew our house was on fire. I cried to my children who were so petrified they could not move from behind the bed. I somehow gathered enough strength to drag them out of the collapsing building.
I later learnt that my husband had been shot in the head and that his body had been badly mutilated by multiple beatings from rifle butts. I also learnt that the attack was retaliation for the successful mission led by my husband the month before.
With the help of my husband’s best friend, I went into hiding with my two daughters in another part of Uganda. They kept asking for their father, but they were too young to understand what had happened. I was hoping that we would be left in peace, but it was a forlorn hope. Less than three months after my husband had been killed and I was raped, I returned to our new home one day after coming back from church and found our flat had been ransacked and all our belongings were strewn all over the place, including smashed crockery outside the flat. A badly shaken neighbour with a bruised face warned me that the LRA were looking for me and they had attacked him instead, hoping to get information out of him about our whereabouts.
Leaving your country for an unknown destination is traumatic. I did not know I was coming to Britain. It could have been anywhere as long as it was safe for me and my children. But as an asylum seeker in Britain, I soon discovered that it was far from being a warm and welcoming place and I was presented with more traumas.
No one seemed to understand the traumas I had faced and I was refused asylum in the UK. The threat of being sent back to Uganda made me suffer from terrible anxiety and my physical health deteriorated. While I was trying to recover from all my traumas, my house in Leeds was raided in the middle of the night by immigration officials in April 2005 and I was sent to Yarlswood Detention Centre for a month. It was a traumatic experience and reminded me of the time when our house was raided by the LRA rebels 18 months before.
After I was released from Yarlswood, I was referred to Solace for counselling. I was struggling to cope with life when I met Anne, my therapist, at Solace. I had lost hope and life no longer had any meaning for me. Since going to Solace, my state of mind started to improve. The counselling really helped me. But then, in April 2007, I was raided at dawn for a second time and sent back to Yarlswood for four months with my children. Like the first time I was detained, I had committed no crime. It was a real setback for me and once again I lost all hope and was petrified of being deported.
Throughout my time in the detention centre, Solace worked with my solicitor to get me out. Anne came to visit me and offer me support. I applied for bail as that was the only way they would release me. Anne provided surety for me, which I really appreciated as there was no one else to help me.
Solace has always been there for me, especially in the dark times. All the staff are welcoming, friendly and understanding and for me it is like a second home.
At the beginning of 2008, while I was still being subjected to stringent bail conditions, I received a letter from the Home Office saying that I had been granted refugee status, which is a huge relief for me. It came completely out of the blue. Hopefully, my nightmare is over, but I am still going to Solace to try and heal my wounds.
an interview with... Arthur France MBE
Article also featured on BBC Leeds website - http://www.bbc.co.uk/leeds/content/articles/2009/06/05/people_arthur_france_feature.shtml
Arthur France has become not just a figurehead for the black community in Leeds, but for Afro-Caribbeans across the UK. His work has been celebrated with multiple awards, his initiative has produced society-changing projects and his desire to improve standards in the community means he is heralded as a hero by those who have grown up influenced by his optimism and leadership.
"I have always been very proactive, and back in the '60s when I was a member of the Afro-Caribbean and Asian Society I wanted to do as much as possible to celebrate our heritage and background."
Arthur grew up in Nevis, one of the Leeward Islands, moving to the Chapeltown area of Leeds when he was 22 and he's stayed in the area ever since. Despite being away from the Caribbean for over 50 years, Arthur remains sentimental and passionate about his roots.
"In 2007, I was invited to do a presentation about the Leeds Carnival's 40th Anniversary. As it was the first one to ever take place in Europe and attracts thousands and thousands of people each year, there is always a lot of interest in it."
"However that year also marked the bicentenary of the abolition of the slave trade. As the event is a celebration of freedom I felt it was more necessary to talk about that, rather than just the Carnival itself."
Arthur has always had this belief in following what he believes. After establishing the United Caribbean Association (UCA) in 1964 with his close friends George Archibald and Cedric Clarke (who later became the first black Councillor in Leeds) Arthur used his role as leader to take on the education system. After setting up supplementary after-school classes at the city's newly opened black youth club, residents were able to teach local children in English, Maths and History.
"The system wasn't suited to children from our culture so we felt we had to do something ourselves to give our kids as much chance as possible of advancing their education. In the end, all the parents withdrew the children from Chapeltown Primary School, which resulted in a new Headteacher being brought in."
By this stage, Arthur wasn't just tackling social agendas, but political ones as well. In 1969 he helped establish a national umbrella organisation after the Immigration Bill which he saw as unsympathetic to the black community.
"I was probably more of a Malcolm X character back in the day, very out-spoken in my beliefs. Any time I am told I can't do something, it just energises me to try harder. But I am a realist, I don't enjoy arguing, I enjoy discussions. I'm an optimist and believe a resolution can always be made - it's through these tactics that real change comes about and this has been crucial to helping the community of Chapeltown. Many now say I'm more in line with Martin Luther King - that radical side of me has calmed a little, but the drive still remains."
Now 74, Arthur still travels around the country to attend many of the other Carnivals established since the inaugural Chapeltown celebration in 1967.
"The Carnival is very unique and a beautiful way to showcase our culture. It nearly didn’t happen though. I spent three years researching it on my own and then was thrown out the UCA meeting after presenting my ideas - they all thought I was mad!"
Yet again Arthur persisted and the Leeds Carnival has set the precedent for many similar celebrations across Europe. As a result, black communities around the country look at Leeds with jealousy and admiration of all that has been achieved in the city.
"We're the only organisation in the country to have these projects, I guess that's why we've attracted so much attention over the years."
This 'attention' has come in the form of various awards, from an MBE in 1997 to travelling to Downing Street to meet Tony Blair in recognition of his valuable contribution to the local community. Although, he's now in his 70s, Arthur still has the energy of a man half his age and retains a belief in the ability of a community to help itself.
an interview with... Jack Sparrow - Leeds' most promising dubstep producer
This article was also published in Leeds Guide - http://www.leedsguide.co.uk/review/view/11602
Dubstep has been established in
Born out of this dubstep renaissance is Jack Sparrow. His melancholic sound has recently captured the attention of Radio 1’s Mary Anne Hobbs and DJ Pinch, perhaps the biggest name in Dubstep outside
Can you describe your style of Dubstep?
It’s hard to explain. No tracks ever sound the same, they each have their own character. My tunes are quite dark but I like to put some uplifting bits in there too.
For me it’s all about atmosphere, deep drums and crossing other genres with dubstep. I have been feeling the carnival style drums and basses for a while and anything Latin, really love the movement of the drums and general vibe….I’ve just made it dark in my own way.
What’s your background in music?
Since I can remember, I’ve had a special bond with music, I would say it’s up there with oxygen for survival. My dad had thousands of tapes and vinyl’s that I used to be really curious about and that started off my obsession with collecting music.
I was 17 when I bought my first music pc and started building a studio. I was completely obsessed with music by this point. I became a bit of a loaner at school… a bit like now actually.
How do you produce you tracks?
Firstly, I need tea, biscuits and late nights. I use logic 8 I have bonded with that program really well and its really user friendly and powerful. I’ll start with drums and then layer incidentals, beeps, crackles etc. over the top to create atmosphere. The bass takes the most time though because dubstep relies on a deep bass with movement, a bit like jungle. I can end up spending days mastering a song that took 2 hours to complete, I just love playing around. After all is done it’s sent off to the cutting house to play that weekend.
How important has the
The
Mary Anne Hobbs says you making some ‘absolutely incredible moves,’ how does it feel to have the mother of electronic music backing you?
When I heard Mary playing my track I did a little dance. She’s been very supportive of my sound and she’s really cool to chat to. She asked me to do a mix for her show over the show which was immense. I put loads of my new stuff into it and it really symbolised my personality and how I feel right now.
You’ve been working with DJ Pinch as well, how did that come about?
Pinch is an absolute legend he has pretty much built up Tectonic recordings in
You’ve played overseas quite a bit now, how well is your music going down abroad?
My gigs in
Do you believe their a certain spirituality to dubstep?
Yeah. It’s a physical thing and anyone who’s been to one of the nights in the West Indian Centre knows what I’m talking about. It’s like having a bath in bass, it’s amazing. I won’t get into the specifics but certain bass frequencies can do strange but positive things to people. Dubstep will be around forever there will just be people moving forward all the time creating new sounds and rhythms. Mala’s blog on myspace is a very interesting read if anyone ants to know more. When he asked me to play London DMZ I was so honoured as that’s where dubstep started and you could really feel the roots of it all and what he means down there.
Who’s making the biggest moves in
I would say on the do front Signus from radio frequency he can seriously mix!
Dom Ruckspin from Ranking Records the guy is very talented and his tunes always leave me wanting more from him.
Finally, what’s next?
I’ve got my album coming out and I’ve started doing a lot of
www.myspace.com/sparradubz
an interview with... Russell - homeless in Leeds
The challenge was set in the first evening sermon preached at St. Georges Church by the new Vicar, Rev Percy Donald. It was 1930, and society was plighted with the consequences of the Great Depression. Enforced idleness, extreme hunger and wide spread despair had consumed many across the Leeds.
Beneath the church lay the Crypt, full of vaults, coffins and walls gaping with holes making it look more like a connect 4 board. It was here that ‘Don’ was to meet his challenge.
Nearly 80 years on and the vision of Don remains - an inspirational symbol of good-will, compassion and generosity - a solace for a marginalised, neglected and often desperate society.
St. Georges Crypt provides unconditional support for Leeds’ homeless. Unsurprisingly many here will ‘possess’ a significant drink problem. Alcoholism remains as significant aspect of any fringe society as it did back at the Crypt’s beginning - a destroyer of relationships, of families and households, of jobs and future dreams, of a person’s mental and physical capability and ultimately, a destroyer of a life itself.
For many, prejudiced away from our ‘civilised’ community these voluntary organisations become their only refuge. Homelessness is the downfall of modern civilisation for those most unfortunate – a downfall which is now so recognised and integrated into society that, day to day, it goes largely unregistered.
But homelessness is about more than just begging and it is more than simply not having a home. It is about the loss of self-pride, of self-esteem and of self-respect, all of which are beaten and bullied out of a person by narrow minded prejudice of the ‘accepted’ members of society. And it is this which makes homelessness so fertile for people to fall ever deeper into its murky shadows, closing off their emotions, losing conscientiousness and distancing themselves from personal responsibility.
There will be over 1,600 people sleep rough in England tonight. Around 1 in 16 hospital admission this year will be related to alcohol abuse and it is thought that in Leeds alone, over 25,000 battle every day with some form of alcohol enslavement.
Figures however, no matter how shocking or disturbing are only two-dimensional. To find the emotion and reality behind the numbers you have to search out the individuality - to do so, to talk to these people and absorb their experiences offers one of the greatest commentaries of modern society. To analyse their lives and understand their feelings provides a wonderful insight in to intricacies of our community’s dirty underbelly.
For homeless people are not different breeds of person. These people were not born to be homeless. Many have once been respected members of society, moralistic and proud, working nine to fives and earning an honest living. Many are or once were free-thinking independent minds with nearly 20% possessing A-Levels.
In my time spent researching this topic, I have been fortunate enough to spend some time with a man named Russell. His story quickly confirmed to me my naivety in the subject. A simple interview at first, I expected it to take no longer than ten minutes. An hour and half later we were still discussing his descent from society and fight back into civilisation.
Realising his childhood dream, at 16 Russell joined the Royal Marines. His job took him around the world; colleagues became the closest of friends with camaraderie and boozing going hand in hand.
It was during this time Russell learnt of his ability to out drink many others - a feat which when you see his slightly smaller than average build, understandably gave elevation of his reputation to near hero status.
Seven years in however and Russell was discharged following a road traffic accident - deemed unfit to continue his military adventure. Having left school only one month before enrolment, he had very little preparation for life in the ‘real world.’
Russell remained near the barracks in Devon with a local lady who he would later marry, but living close enough to old foes meant that the despair at losing the career he loved, mixed with the lack of discipline, obligation and responsibility in his new life meant drinking would begin to dominate. It soon got to a point where his wife called it a day.
Having moved back up to Leeds, found a good job and a new lady, alcohol began taking grip again. A couple of drinks after work turned in to a bottle of White Lightning for breakfast. Russell’s life eroded around him until he was left with nothing but what he could carry. Drifting from psychiatric wards for suicidal depression, to alcohol rehabilitation centres, Russell began the life of a homeless person - sleeping in alleyways, underneath arches and hidden between discarded old carpets in skips before eventually discovering the St. Georges.
After a few months, spending his days reading in the city library before trudging over at night to take his spot on the canteen floor to spend the night, Russell was moved to Regent Terrace – a wet house run by St. Georges where residents can drink to their hearts contend in a safe, controlled environment. Russell flourished in this new lifestyle, downing up to 16 litres of white cider a day before eventually becoming so sick his skin turned a light shade of Colman’s mustard. Waking up two weeks later from his coma, he was told he was often considered hours away from death.
It was two and half months before Russell was to be released.
So what does any of this show? Well obviously everyone is different and so what worked for Russell may not be the right method for another. Russell was helped significantly by his past. He was raised in a stable and loving family, and is adamant that is was the morals and politeness installed in him as a child which allowed him to continue to communicate effectively with those helping him. For example, be it his charm or just peoples general fondness for him, but staff at the Crypt has given him a saxophone and a car, purely through acts of kindness and goodwill. Russell was constantly given something to aspire to, given something to think about and a reason to battle his way out.
This highlights the importance of support, understanding and acceptance. Shunned by the public as scum, the attitude the public aggresses against these people creates one of the largest obstacles pinning them into this shadowy and empty lifestyle. It is only those professionally trained who ever look beyond the tatty clothes and mangled hair and provide a release from the demoralisation.
Lastly, a person will drink for as long as they wish to drink. Just like a drug addict, a smoker or even a chocoholic, for as long as a person enjoys, accepts and respects their vice, they will continue with it. Only when a person’s heart wants out will the brain respond. Russell was never ready to quit those first times in rehab and especially wasn’t when he was on his 16th bottle for the day. But it requires patience, both from them and from those there to help, to be there when the person reaches their turning. The point where enough genuinely does become enough. And for Russell the crypt was by his side the whole way.
Beneath the church lay the Crypt, full of vaults, coffins and walls gaping with holes making it look more like a connect 4 board. It was here that ‘Don’ was to meet his challenge.
Nearly 80 years on and the vision of Don remains - an inspirational symbol of good-will, compassion and generosity - a solace for a marginalised, neglected and often desperate society.
St. Georges Crypt provides unconditional support for Leeds’ homeless. Unsurprisingly many here will ‘possess’ a significant drink problem. Alcoholism remains as significant aspect of any fringe society as it did back at the Crypt’s beginning - a destroyer of relationships, of families and households, of jobs and future dreams, of a person’s mental and physical capability and ultimately, a destroyer of a life itself.
For many, prejudiced away from our ‘civilised’ community these voluntary organisations become their only refuge. Homelessness is the downfall of modern civilisation for those most unfortunate – a downfall which is now so recognised and integrated into society that, day to day, it goes largely unregistered.
But homelessness is about more than just begging and it is more than simply not having a home. It is about the loss of self-pride, of self-esteem and of self-respect, all of which are beaten and bullied out of a person by narrow minded prejudice of the ‘accepted’ members of society. And it is this which makes homelessness so fertile for people to fall ever deeper into its murky shadows, closing off their emotions, losing conscientiousness and distancing themselves from personal responsibility.
There will be over 1,600 people sleep rough in England tonight. Around 1 in 16 hospital admission this year will be related to alcohol abuse and it is thought that in Leeds alone, over 25,000 battle every day with some form of alcohol enslavement.
Figures however, no matter how shocking or disturbing are only two-dimensional. To find the emotion and reality behind the numbers you have to search out the individuality - to do so, to talk to these people and absorb their experiences offers one of the greatest commentaries of modern society. To analyse their lives and understand their feelings provides a wonderful insight in to intricacies of our community’s dirty underbelly.
For homeless people are not different breeds of person. These people were not born to be homeless. Many have once been respected members of society, moralistic and proud, working nine to fives and earning an honest living. Many are or once were free-thinking independent minds with nearly 20% possessing A-Levels.
In my time spent researching this topic, I have been fortunate enough to spend some time with a man named Russell. His story quickly confirmed to me my naivety in the subject. A simple interview at first, I expected it to take no longer than ten minutes. An hour and half later we were still discussing his descent from society and fight back into civilisation.
***
Realising his childhood dream, at 16 Russell joined the Royal Marines. His job took him around the world; colleagues became the closest of friends with camaraderie and boozing going hand in hand.
It was during this time Russell learnt of his ability to out drink many others - a feat which when you see his slightly smaller than average build, understandably gave elevation of his reputation to near hero status.
Seven years in however and Russell was discharged following a road traffic accident - deemed unfit to continue his military adventure. Having left school only one month before enrolment, he had very little preparation for life in the ‘real world.’
Russell remained near the barracks in Devon with a local lady who he would later marry, but living close enough to old foes meant that the despair at losing the career he loved, mixed with the lack of discipline, obligation and responsibility in his new life meant drinking would begin to dominate. It soon got to a point where his wife called it a day.
Having moved back up to Leeds, found a good job and a new lady, alcohol began taking grip again. A couple of drinks after work turned in to a bottle of White Lightning for breakfast. Russell’s life eroded around him until he was left with nothing but what he could carry. Drifting from psychiatric wards for suicidal depression, to alcohol rehabilitation centres, Russell began the life of a homeless person - sleeping in alleyways, underneath arches and hidden between discarded old carpets in skips before eventually discovering the St. Georges.
After a few months, spending his days reading in the city library before trudging over at night to take his spot on the canteen floor to spend the night, Russell was moved to Regent Terrace – a wet house run by St. Georges where residents can drink to their hearts contend in a safe, controlled environment. Russell flourished in this new lifestyle, downing up to 16 litres of white cider a day before eventually becoming so sick his skin turned a light shade of Colman’s mustard. Waking up two weeks later from his coma, he was told he was often considered hours away from death.
It was two and half months before Russell was to be released.
So what does any of this show? Well obviously everyone is different and so what worked for Russell may not be the right method for another. Russell was helped significantly by his past. He was raised in a stable and loving family, and is adamant that is was the morals and politeness installed in him as a child which allowed him to continue to communicate effectively with those helping him. For example, be it his charm or just peoples general fondness for him, but staff at the Crypt has given him a saxophone and a car, purely through acts of kindness and goodwill. Russell was constantly given something to aspire to, given something to think about and a reason to battle his way out.
This highlights the importance of support, understanding and acceptance. Shunned by the public as scum, the attitude the public aggresses against these people creates one of the largest obstacles pinning them into this shadowy and empty lifestyle. It is only those professionally trained who ever look beyond the tatty clothes and mangled hair and provide a release from the demoralisation.
Lastly, a person will drink for as long as they wish to drink. Just like a drug addict, a smoker or even a chocoholic, for as long as a person enjoys, accepts and respects their vice, they will continue with it. Only when a person’s heart wants out will the brain respond. Russell was never ready to quit those first times in rehab and especially wasn’t when he was on his 16th bottle for the day. But it requires patience, both from them and from those there to help, to be there when the person reaches their turning. The point where enough genuinely does become enough. And for Russell the crypt was by his side the whole way.
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