The following column won top honors among vendor essays at the International Network of Street Paper Awards 2013 in July. It is written by a vendor with Street Roots’ sister paper Apropos in Austria.
I’m going my way. What is this day going to bring? Somebody buys a street paper from me. I also get tipped and I’m happy about it. These days I have less to worry about.
I was living on the Kapuzinerberg (mountain) for a long time in a small cave. The water used to drip on my face despite the tarpaulin that I had covering the walls. It was one that painters use; I didn’t have the money for anything else.
I wasn’t physically fit enough to meet the conditions imposed by social services. I eventually gave up my flat and stopped getting social benefits - they had already been cut anyway. That situation lasted for a long time — much longer than I wanted it to. I would get up in the morning and go down the hill. Sometimes I would meet others that lived there and we would beg on the Staatsbrücke (bridge). They were also homeless and needing money. Well, I never had to beg because I was selling the street paper. Many people helped me with my problems and supported me. Like other homeless people, I was just grateful to have any place to sleep.
At the beginning I stayed at a friend’s place. I didn’t have to pay rent. I sold Apropos and cooked for him. But I couldn’t stand his drinking.
In the camp, I had a hard time sleeping and that started to take its toll. I looked for a doctor nearby because I wasn’t able to go to the city in the state I was in. I was hoping he could help me get back on social benefits again. All he said was that I should go see an expert and that I shouldn’t sleep outdoors without a sleeping bag. And that valerian would be good for my wisdom tooth. It grows on the mountain, thank God. But how could I afford a sleeping bag, especially a good one? My mother was unemployed also at the time and couldn’t help. An ad in the newspaper and a personal connection however worked wonders: After two years I finally got a good sleeping bag and a military tent. It was a nomadic lifestyle, but it was bearable.
I will never forget my first winter in the cave. I tried to tell myself that snowflakes were ‘romantic.’ I covered myself with expensive fur coats that I got from the collection of old clothes at Saftladen (Social Enterprise). Unfortunately they never had any sleeping bags. Once at a construction site I found some thermal insulating material and I took it to sleep on so that I wouldn’t get sick. “I’ll return it soon,” I thought to myself. Because the cave was in danger of collapsing — and also because of the noise — I moved to the other side of the mountain. I was still unable to sleep.
Every week we used to get treated to a free concert, because we could hear the music from concerts at the Residenzplatz (main square in Salzburg). Today they actually give a cultural pass to poor people, with free entry to the cinema and other events.
The basic income support payment that I get now is a little bit higher than social benefits I was on, but sometimes I’m still afraid that I won’t ever be able to have a “normal” life. My council flat is a salvation. There needs to be a better system to deal with homeless people. At the moment there can be four psychologists working on one case yet the people end up on the streets after a couple of months anyway. A shelter should be provided until people have found their own place to stay.
I like to think back to the beautiful time that I spent in the great outdoors, in touch with nature. Sometimes I even feel like I was living in luxury because of the beautiful things that I was given. I am very grateful for the clothing donations. That’s how I got a camelhair coat; it was always my dream to own one. I used to wear it when I was sitting outside the cave.
A friend of mine from Upper Austria used to come and visit me twice a week to bring me organic products and arnica tincture. In return, I made him mountain tea on the campfire to help with his circulation. Another friend used to bring me a special natural medicine from Germany (made from valerian, lemon balm, hops and St. John’s wort). One time when I was ill another cave dweller brought me food that he got from the monastery. We would go to the monastery to get food every day (except Sundays); sandwiches, sometimes homemade cakes, fruit, and always friendly conversation.
I used to take food from rubbish bins and in the tent I would hang kilos of bananas, organic breads and other groceries for days so the mice couldn’t reach them. I even covered the walls with a Persian carpet that I found in a bin. People throw away the most beautiful things. When there was enough to eat I didn’t have a lot to worry about, but there were times when I was almost starving and the rubbish bins behind the supermarkets were my only rescue.
I’ve had my own flat for five years now. It’s nice, but can be stressful because of the crime in my neighborhood, which never seems to end. I want to work again. That’s why I started taking courses at the Public Employment Service (a cleaning course and a computer course).
When I’m feeling bad, I go back to the mountain, to the cave that I decorated with a mattress, a beautiful Persian carpet and other bits and bobs that I got from Sam, a painter friend that also lived on mountain, who has now sadly passed away.
Everything is so peaceful and quiet there, just like it used to be. I can pass the day there and feel grateful for everything that nature gave me.
My friend Sam used to say: “I’m not poor, I’m rich.”
www.street-papers.org/Apropos, Austria