``A soft pillow’’ is what Paddy misses mostwhen he lays his head down to sleep on the coldconcrete.

At first glance it is not obvious that Paddy isone of Belfast’s rough sleepers. He looks muchyounger than his 42 years, his trainers aregleaming and he has a close-cut trendy hair-cut....later on he tells me he used to be a barber.

But tonight Paddy will not crawl into a cosybed, rather he will sleep outside trying to avoidthe abuse and spit dished out by passersby orbeing kicked and urinated on by the drunkswho spill out of the pubs after closing time.

Paddy, who is originally from west Belfast, wasone of the homeless people I met on Fridaynight when I joined the Hope to Help team fromthe Abundant Life Church which brings coffeeand sandwiches to the city’s invisible inhabi-tants.

A father of four, he recently became a grandfa-ther and tears fill his eyes as he shows me a pic-ture of his baby grandson on his mobile phone.But this is where the tale of seemingly happydomestic life ends.

A few years ago Paddy tried to kill himself bysetting fire to his house. He was convicted ofarson and sent to jail. His 20-year marriage sub-sequently broke down.

“There was only me in the house. I was onlytrying to end my life, but I’m sure to God itmust have frightened my ex-wife.’’

Since being released from jail he has been inand out of hostels and living rough for aboutfour years. He’s also been in and out of psychi-atric units for his depression.

“I was locked up for my own good. I wouldhave been a harm to others, not intentionally,like, but by harming myself, maybe smashing acar straight into a wall.’’

Paddy is a slight man; his cropped trousersrevealing seriously skinny ankles. When askedif he can remember the last time he ate, he hasto think for a while before answering‘Wednesday’.

Like most of the other rough sleepers I meet,Paddy has the glazed eyes and total coherencyof the long-term alcoholic.

“I started drinking when I was 14. I liked thewee buzz, the feeling it gave me. But then Ibecame dependent on it. The longest I was eversober was two and a half years. But I wasn’tsober. I just wasn’t taking alcohol, my head wasstill mad. I’ll never beat the drink, it’ll torture

me to the last day of my life.”When we meet, Paddy is surrounded by other

homeless people but he says there’s no friend-ship on the streets.

“What you do is you keep yourself awake,because if you’ve nice shoes, a lighter or aphone they’ll (other rough sleepers) take themoff you.’’

And the worst thing about sleeping rough?“I couldn’t pick one thing............... not having

a soft pillow. A soft pillow is a clear conscience.A bed of rock is the opposite.’’

Hope to Help is part of Dignity, an umbrellaorganisation for a number of Christian basedstreet teams who work with the homeless andrough sleepers on the city’s streets.

We meet at 10.30pm in a building in the uni-versity area, where around 10 young volunteershave given up their Friday night to pack sand-wiches and snacks into bags and take to thepeople on the streets.

We leave at 11pm. It’s after this time that mostof the hostels in Belfast are full and it’s then wecan make contact with anyone who will besleeping rough.

Spilt into groups, we visit different parts of thecity. Our first stop is Botanic Avenue, a studentarea just minutes from the affluent MaloneRoad.

It is here we meet Paddy and another roughsleeper, David.

Originally from Newtownards, David, 48, waskicked out of his home by his father at the ageof 15. He has been sleeping rough ever since.

A polite and intelligent man, David describeshimself as a ‘’lost soul’’.

“I went to London and have been driftingevery since. I’ve slept rough in Edinburgh and

been back and forward to Northern Ireland. Weare not all bad people; we’ve all got a story totell.’’

David will sleep outside Botanic Train Stationtonight. This is his patch. He’s been sleepinghere for three years. He sits on a piece of card-board and swigs cider from a plastic litre bottle.He’s been drinking since 8am this morning.

“I don’t drink because I want to. I drinkbecause it’s a necessity.’’

David has been in jail for ‘’serious crime’’ andis barred from every hostel in the city.

“I’m barred from hostels I’ve never even beento. So what road do I go to get help?

“Where’s the justice. I get £37 a week to liveon, but because I live on the streets I have to eatin cafes. If I spend £3 on my breakfast, £3 on mylunch and £3 on my dinner that works out at £56a week. It doesn’t add up - and I can count, I’mnot stupid!

“So many’s a day I don’t eat. Christmas day isjust another day: Concrete.’’

David says sleeping on the streets is danger-ous and lonely.

“The police kick you and move you on. Youdon’t get a sleep, it’s a rest. It’s never a propersleep.

“Everyday I don’t exist. You get that far downyou start to believe that. You’ve no self-esteem.’’

Like Paddy, David says he doesn’t have anyfriends on the street.

“You have acquaintances. You don’t trust any-body because they would stab you in the back.You put your trust in the Lord. He’s the landlordon the streets.’’

The last time David slept in bed wasNovember 2008 when Hope to Help took him toa rehab centre in Bradford.

14 News Letter, Thursday, July 16, 2009

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FEATURE www.newsletter.co.uk17 37 FEATUREwww.newsletter.co.uk 17 37

Every night in Belfast a group of Christianvolunteers bring food and friendship to the peoplewho sleep rough on the city’s streets. HHEELLEENNMMCCGGUURRKK joined the Hope to Help team and heardsome of the heartbreaking stories from those leftout in the cold.

Hope to Help team get ready to go out onto the streets

His face lights up when he sees thegroup approaching him with coffee andsomething to eat.

“They are my friends. They are pricelessand beautiful. They give you comfort.’’

As we leave to bring food to other roughsleepers, I ask David what is dream is.

“Peace’’. And then he adds: ``A one-bedroom flat,with a wee kitchen.’’

Naomi O’Kane founded Hope to Help lastNovember. She says that on average 12- 20 peoplewill sleep rough on Belfast’s streets every night.The majority are men, aged 30 upwards. There are31 hostels in the Greater Belfast area with an esti-mated 800 beds. When these are full, there is oftennowhere else for the homeless to seek refuge.

“They have secret places where they sleep; they’llnot tell anyone because they don’t want to get theirsleeping bag nicked. It’s a dog eat dog sort ofthing,’’ she says.

Naomi has a great rapport with people like Davidand Paddy. She sits on the pavement beside them,chatting and listening. Having been homeless her-self for a while, she can empathize with their situa-tion.

“My life took a turn for the worse and I ended upin Women’s Aid. After I got my life back on trackagain, I became homeless. But I was one of the hid-den homeless, sleeping on a hard floor for aboutfive weeks. I had a car, I had a job, I just didn’t haveanywhere to sleep.’’

But what really prompted Naomi to do somethingabout the plight of rough sleepers was when shediscovered that two homeless people she used towalk past every day in a doorway of a fish and chipshop had died on Christmas Day.

“That really impacted me. I thought this can’t beright, this is Belfast.’’

I ask Naomi why some people end up falling outof society into the world of the homeless roughsleeper?

“Many of the people on the city’s streets have analcohol, or drug addiction which keeps them on thestreets. Such addictions are often but a symptom ofother tragic circumstances, domestic violence,abuse at home, or physiological illness. Many ofthem have stories of some sort of relationshipbreakdown that has happened; either the loss of awife, or child, or a breakdown of a marriage, orlong-term relationship. These are the real causes ofinvoluntary disaffection from our society.Addiction is often the mask of inner personalpain.”

She adds that some people become ‘’institution-alised’’ to the streets.

“In the case of one person we know, he’s almostaddicted to the street and the camaraderie - he hasa ‘family’ on the street, so it’s very hard for him to

break away from that. Some people don’tlike the rules and regulations that there arein hostels or rehab places, they feel it’s toostrict.’’

Naomi has heard some horrific stories from thestreet, like the woman who has been sleepingrough for 30 years and has regularly been sexuallyassaulted.

Most shocking, she says, is the attitudes of otherpeople.

“I stayed on the street one night in Bradford, youcould just see the looks that people gave you, theway they were treated.The hours drag, the coldgoes into your bones, your body feels like it’s beenkicked up and down the street because you arelying on concrete. Then there’s the regret that theyhave ended up like this. That’s why I think some ofthem end up more addicted to drink, they take thedrink to drown the regret.’’

At around 1am we drive down Great VictoriaStreet and meet Isobel, a pretty Romanian girl sell-ing plastic flowers outside a city centre bar. Anoverweight man with tattoos, gold chains and ear-rings is making a pass at her. She doesn’t haveenough English to tell him to leave her alone.Around the corner another young Romanian manis selling the same imitation flowers. Nick arrivedin Belfast two days ago and is hoping to makemoney to send home to his wife and baby son.Hope to Help will keep an eye on them both.

Driving home we pass David. He is sitting in thesame spot outside the train station, which is wherehe will spend the long lonely hours that dragtowards morning.

Unlike him, and Paddy, and the other poor soulswho have no place to lay their heads, I am goinghome to a warm bed. And a soft pillow.

For that I am truly thankful.■ If you would like to get involved with Hope toHelp contact Naomi O’Kane on: 07545233205

II ccoouullddnn’’tt ppiicckk oonneetthhiinngg.............................. nnootthhaavviinngg aa ssoofftt ppiillllooww.. AAssoofftt ppiillllooww iiss aa cclleeaarrccoonnsscciieennccee.. AA bbeedd ooffrroocckk iiss tthhee ooppppoossiittee

”

”

Daniel, with Naomi O’Kane, founder, Hope to Help and the volunteers

Bringing hope to the homeless

Paddy, left, with a volunteer from Hope to Help Romanian flower-seller, Nick