by Gary Beck
Beth knew she couldn’t get impatient. "Then what is it?"
"It’s an emergency assistance center. You come here if you ain’t got anyplace else…."
"We don’t have anyplace else."
"Yeah, well if you qualify, they’ll find someplace for you."
"Can you do it now?"
"Nah. I don’t do admissions. You’ll have to see a social worker in the morning."
"What do we do until then?"
"Sleep on the floor or get out. It’s up to you, but no more talking. You’ll wake the clients."
Beth realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere with the cranky clerk and led them to the empty corner. She made a nest with the fire department blankets for the exhausted kids and they promptly fell asleep. She put her blanket on the floor and sat down. Peter sat next to her and she covered them with his blanket and slumped against the wall. The stale smell of sweat, the rank odor of unwashed bodies and gassy carbohydrate emissions filled the air. The sounds of snoring, moaning and coughing and the thumping of shifting bodies further assaulted the senses.
Peter whispered shakily, "What are we going to do?" She already knew that his high-strung nature was not ideal for stress situations. She didn’t see any alternatives.
"We can’t do anything until morning, so let’s get some sleep." Relieved of the burden of decision, he leaned against her and dozed off. Beth sat there, wide awake, thinking about their situation. She couldn’t come up with any answers, but she was determined to take care of her family, no matter what happened and finally nodded off in an uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Several hours later Beth was yanked out of her uneasy sleep, when the lights went on abruptly and a harsh voice yelled, "Time to get up." A tall, thin black man in a blue security guard uniform walked down the row of sleeping families and prodded them with his foot, repeating over and over, "Time to get up."
When he reached Beth, she said loudly, "Don’t you kick me."
He stared down at her belligerently, "Then get your ass onto a bench. There’s no more sleeping now." He glowered down at her, daring her to defy him. Beth saw that everyone else was getting up. They were shuffling like the living dead to a row of benches that she hadn’t noticed when she came in during the night.
She slowly stood up, gently shook Peter and said to the guard who was towering over her, "We’re getting up. There’s no need to be nasty."
"Then get moving. I don’t take no shit from you people."
"What do you mean, ‘you people’?"
"Homeless," he sneered.
"We’re not homeless," she protested. "We had a fire last night and…."
"Don’t matter to me. Get your ass on the bench."
Beth tried to remain calm, "The police officer who brought us here told us to speak to a social worker."
"Then take a seat. They’ll call you."
"How will they know who we are?"
"They’ll know."
Beth realized that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the obnoxious guard. She shepherded Peter and the children to the bile green plastic benches that were stained from slovenly use. She wiped some kind of glutinous substance from the bench with a corner of her blanket, sat down and surveyed the room. It was painted institutional green to conceal the emissions of distressed people. It looked more like a disreputable lawyer’s office, or a seedy bookie joint, than a site that provided human services. Small family groups, mostly single mothers with children, huddled together dejectedly. The children were spiritless, as if they had been squashed by whatever event brought them to this dismal office. About half of the families were black and the other half Hispanic. There was one other white family besides hers and she heard them muttering in Russian. Solitary men, mostly black, sat apart from the families, restless, fidgeting, coughing, twitching and showing all the signs of strung-out junkies. Everyone looked as if they were being ground down by relentless forces. Beth made a mental vow not to let it happen to her family. Then she looked at Peter, who was staring apathetically into space, and put her arm protectively around him.
Jennifer leaned over and whispered, "When are we going home, Mommy?"
"I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ll just have to wait."
Andy looked at her sadly, "I’m hungry."
"I know, honey. We’ll get something to eat soon." They sat there for an hour without anything happening. A disturbance started at the other end of the room and the nasty guard escorted a cursing black man outside.
The guard came back in and Beth said, "Excuse me, sir."
He looked at her blankly. "Yeah?"
"When will we get something to eat?"
"Talk to the social worker."
"When does he get here?"
"It’s a she and she’ll get here when she gets here."
"My children are hungry."
"You white folks think you’re special?" he asked irately. "You gotta wait like everybody else."
Beth controlled her temper. "I don’t think we’re special. I’m just trying to get some information."
"Well I already told ya. You gotta wait for the social worker." He walked away, completely unconcerned with her problems. It started to dawn on Beth that they may have fallen into a system that was not susceptible to courtesy and reason.
She peered around the room and noticed that some of the people huddling on benches were looking at her, but she couldn’t detect any animosity, jut remote curiosity. A few of the families had obviously been there for a while, judging by their attempts to organize meager possessions, but they were barely animated.
A heavy-set black woman, wearing lots of gold jewelry, walked in and announced in a surly voice, "Breakfast will be distributed in fifteen minutes. Clients line up against the wall. When you’re finished, dispose of your garbage in the plastic garbage bags that are provided. Remember, sleeping isn’t allowed on the benches." The clients rose and formed a line against the wall. Beth took Jennifer with her and joined the line, leaving Andy with Peter.
The heavy-set woman went by and Beth called her, "Excuse me, ma’am."
The woman turned, "What?"
"When can we see the social worker?"
"Later."
"Do you know what time?"
"You wanta eat?" the woman growled.
"Yes."
"Then keep quiet and wait."
Beth knew it was futile to get into a confrontation and nodded compliantly. The woman stalked off and Beth leaned against the wall.
"That lady’s mean," Jennifer whispered.
Beth agreed, but didn’t want to add to their problems. "Sometimes people can be mean, but I don’t want you to say anything about it, unless we’re alone."
"Yes, Mommy. I’m hungry. Do you know what’s for breakfast?"
"No, but we’ll find out soon."
The tall, thin, young black woman with close-cut gelled hair, standing in front of her, turned and said, "That was smart, not givin’ Ms. Waller a excuse to hassle ya."
"I figured I’d talk to the social worker, not her."
"She be the social worker."
"Her?"
"Her."
Beth was horrified, "She doesn’t seem too concerned with our problems."
"She look down on us, cause we homeless."
"But she’s supposed to help us."
The woman smiled gently, "A lotta folks look down at us, cause they think they’re better. Don’t matter to them who we are, only that we’re poor. I’m Kiesha. When you finish your breakfast, we get acquainted. I’ll tell you what be goin down here."
"Thanks. I’m Beth. I’m worried about this place."
"You just be cool an you be all right."
The line started to move, so Kiesha turned away and Beth followed her. A fat, Hispanic man sat behind a desk, doling out food from black plastic garbage bags. He handed Beth two packets of dried cereal, two small containers of milk, two plastic spoons and two slices of pre-buttered white bread.
; "There are four of us," Beth said.
He looked at her suspiciously, "Where?"
She pointed at Peter and Andy and he gave her two more servings. She brought the food to Peter and Andy, who obviously had hoped for something better.
"Is that all we get?" Andy asked.
"Maybe we’ll get something else later. Right now, if you’re hungry, eat your breakfast," Beth said. They hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before, so they quickly consumed the spartan repast. When they finished, Beth collected the remains and dumped them in the omni-present black garbage bags. She went back to their bench home and wiped the spilled milk and smeared butter with the empty cereal packet.
She turned to Jennifer, "Stay with your father and Andy."
"Where are you going?" Jennifer asked in alarm.
Beth pointed to where Kiesha was sitting. "I’ll be there. Call me if you need me."
Kiesha smiled and cleared a place on the bench for her. Beth sat down and confided, "Last night I had a home. Now I have this."
Kiesha nodded, "Shit happens, but you gotta be strong. This ain’t no nice place."
"Tell me about it."
"Folk come here when they ain’t got no place else. The staff calls us clients, but they don’t care about us. All they want is to get us out of here before the lawyers for the homeless show up."
"Can they help us?"
"Nah. They talk a lot, but they only here ‘til they make friends while fightin’ with the city. Then they get good payin’ jobs and forget about us."
"Isn’t someone supposed to help us?"
"You on your own, missy. You gotta learn to take care of your family."
Beth took a deep breath. "I get the picture. How do you get out of here?"
"You stays here ‘til they place you somewhere."
"How long have you been here?"
"Me and my kids been here since before Christmas. They takes us somewhere else to sleep sometimes. A bus comes at one or two a.m. and takes us to some shelter, then brings us back in the morning."
Beth concealed her shock, "How come you’re not depressed like everyone else?"
"I can’t afford no wallowing in misery," Kiesha said determinedly. "I gotta look out for my kids."
Beth now could see clearly that she was in for a struggle. "How does this place work?"
Kiesha smiled approvingly. "First you wait ‘til the social worker calls you and opens a case file for your family."
"How long is the wait?"
"Till she thinks you be humbled enough."
Beth was already digesting this bitter pill, "Then what happens?"
"Once you be registered, she gives you the rules and put you on the placement list for a family shelter."
"How long does that take?"
"They in no hurry. They glad if you leavin’ here in disgust so there’s one less family in the system. They give you three meals a day from government surplus food and hope you be gone."
"What if you don’t have any place to go?"
"They make you suffer for bein’ needy, then they ships you to some welfare motel here in the Bronx, where no one see your condition."
"Why do they send you there?"
"Nobody from the media come to the Bronx, unless there be a big fire, or the cops shoot some black man."
"That sounds awful."
"It is, Missy. Listen. After you see the social worker, you move your family over here and we can look out for each other."
"Sure. See you later."
Beth waited for hours without being called. At one o’clock, the fat, Hispanic man who served breakfast served lunch, some kind of processed cheese on packaged white bread, a container of milk and a not so delicious apple, all extracted from black plastic garbage bags. Jennifer ate without complaining, Peter ate in a daze and Andy only whined for a moment. The family was adapting to unpleasant circumstances.
They waited for several more hours, then the social worker finally called, "Harmon" and Beth went to the desk.
"My name is Ms. Weller and there are forms for you to fill out before we can review your case."
"I’ve been sitting around doing nothing for hours. I could have filled out the forms while I was waiting," Beth said.
Ms. Weller scowled, "You’re not here to tell us what to do. If you want assistance, you’ll keep your opinions to yourself. You can always take your family and go somewhere else."
Beth cursed herself mentally for unnecessarily provoking the social worker. "No thank you. Can I have a pen?"
"You really should be prepared." Beth wisely didn’t respond.
The forms were obviously designed to be as confusing and personally discomfiting as possible. College and employment applications weren’t as prying. All the questions about financial and family resources required an answer, or the applicant would be rejected. Beth answered everything, even when she didn’t know what she was doing. She finished and brought the forms to Ms. Weller.
"Have a seat now. We’ll call you." On her way back to her bench she saw Kiesha smiling encouragingly and felt a little better.
She waited patiently for another two hours until she saw Ms. Weller putting on her coat. "Excuse me, Ms. Weller. Are you going to help us before you leave?"
Her answer was indifferent. "There’s not enough time to open a case file today. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow."
"But that means we’ll have to spend another night here."
"You’re not obligated to stay here," Ms. Weller said abruptly. She closed her coat and flounced out.
Beth stood there helplessly but decided not to argue. Kiesha came to her and led her to her bench. "Don’t do no good get upset. You wasn’t getting outta here today anyhow."
"Why not?"
"They want you to get worn down by the system, so you don’t give them trouble. You just take it easy and be patient. They serve dinner at six o’clock, then we gotta get off the benches and sit on the floor."
"That’s so dehumanizing," Beth said.
"That’s what happens when you be poor. They make you pay for it."
"We’re not poor," Beth protested. "We lost our things in a fire,"
"Don’t matter how you get here, they treat all of us the same, like dirt."
"I’ve got to make sure that my family doesn’t get destroyed by this terrible experience," Beth said.
Kiesha patted her affectionately, "That’s the spirit, missy. You be strong for your family and they gonna survive this mess."
CHAPTER NINE
Dinner was some kind of processed meat, accompanied by two slices of packaged white bread, two elderly carrots and a not so delicious apple. An older, shorter version of the fat, Hispanic man distributed the food from black plastic garbage bags. After the basic life supporting meal was consumed and the remains disposed of in black, plastic garbage bags, another nasty security guard announced,
"The office is closed."
Beth assumed this meant that it was time to vacate the benches, since everyone else was getting up.
She saw Kiesha point to a corner of the room and she steered Peter, Jennifer and Andy there. They made nests for the kids, then settled in.
Beth introduced her family, gesturing to them, "This is Peter, Jennifer and Andy."
"How do. I’m Kiesha. These is my kids, Latoya and James. Maybe the kids get acquainted while we talk."
Beth nodded, "That’s a good idea. Why don’t you kids move over here." Jennifer and Andy warily shifted places, moving next to the new neighbor’s children. James was playing with action figures and he generously offered Andy an X-man figure, and they were off on another planet. It took Jennifer and Latoya a little longer to break the stranger barrier, but then they whispered together like conspirators.
Peter was still not overly responsive to what was happening to them, so Beth let him rest, then asked, "Exactly how long have you been here, Kiesha?"
"We been here almost three weeks."
Beth was shocked, "Sleeping on the floor?
"
"Yeah. They bused us to a motel, but I wouldn’t go back there. There be some families here for weeks. They waitin’ for certification."
"What’s that?"
"The city gotta certify you be genuinely homeless an not tryin’ to get free housing at the city’s expense. They suspicious that everybody committin’ fraud to get into a shelter."
"Why would anybody want to be in a shelter if they had another choice?"
Kiesha laughed cynically, "The city think everybody schemin’ to rip them off. There was a big fuss a couple of years ago about the homeless and people be suin the city about how they was treated. This woman judge was the only one who protected the homeless. Now they make it hard as possible to get assistance. That Guiliani only care about what he want, not about the poor."
"I thought they were supposed to help the needy."
"Missy, to Guiliani and people like that it’s a crime to be poor."
Beth sat back and thought about Kiesha’s statement. She didn’t really know her, but she seemed to make sense and she had been right so far. "How did you get here, Kiesha?"
"Me and the kids was livin’ with my moms in Grant Houses, on La Salle street."
"Where’s that?"
"In Harlem, near 125th street and Broadway. There’s gangs and stuff, but it wasn’t too bad. I was goin’ to Borough of Manhattan Community College downtown, studying computer applications. My welfare check paid the rent and moms watched the kids when I was at school, so things was all right for a while. I was gonna get a good job after I graduated and move out of the projects, then my mom’s boyfriend started comin’ on to me. He was always drunk or high and he would like bump into me and try to touch me, but I managed to keep things cool. Then he started hittin’ mom and threatin’ me and the kids. One night he was beatin’ on her and when I tried to stop him, he hit me. I called the cops, but mom wouldn’t press charges against him, so they couldn’t do anything. A few nights later he came in my room and tried to do things to me. He was so stoned he passed out, so I took the kids and went to the police station. They brought me here."
