My time with Crisis and the homeless.

Crisis, for those that are unaware, is a charitable organization that helps homeless people. During the Christmas period, it provides centers for the homeless to visit and sometimes stay at. I, along with thousands of others, volunteer at Crisis and as I have literally just finished the third day of my three day shift, thought I would share my experiences with you.

But why Crisis and why volunteering? The answer to both those questions are relatively simple. Given that property has been good to me over the last few years, a charity that helps those without one seemed a natural choice. I chose to volunteer rather than simply donate, as I wanted to witness first hand the difference I was making. I wanted to interact with a social group of people I knew very little about. And I wanted to understand the challenges those less fortunate than myself faced. Needless to say, all three of those boxes have been well and truly ticked.

In December 2015 I volunteered for the first time. I was based at The Hub as a transport driver and for three days my duties involved driving from centre to The Hub, from The hub to a Centre, moving anything from table tennis tables to bedding around. This was hard work and whilst rewarding, it lacked the level of personal interaction that I was looking for.

This year, to save me from tears, I wanted to do something special (sorry George). The Crisis volunteer website is really well constructed and although a little corporate feeling, does offer you the chance to find a role that suits your skillset. So I ticked the General Volunteer willing to drive option, chose the three days I knew I could commit to and waited for my application to be accepted. The email confirmation arrived a few days later. I was to be based at the East London day centre on the 23rd, 28th and 29th December for around 8 hours or so each day. I say around as a Crisis hour can be both longer and shorter than an actual hour. More on that in a bit.

My first shift on the 23rd was an afternoon shift and was from 3pm to 10pm. My early duties included helping monitor door access for Volunteers and Guests. We call the people who visit our centre Guests as that is how we are trained to treat them. Imagine someone coming to your house for the first time. You would likely offer them a hot drink and a seat and that is exactly how we try to welcome people. You will notice that I have used “we” and “our”. You quickly develop a sense of belonging to a community with Crisis. I think that my fellow volunteers are now friends and the centre, although in reality is just a borrowed school, is MY centre. The Guests who I met and spoke to, I think of fellow humans who need a helping hand. Leaving the centre knowing that some/most guests will soon be back on the cold, hard streets of London is tough. Knowing that I may not see the same guests next year is tougher; have they moved on to find a place of their own? Have they died? (The average life expectancy of a male Guest is 42 years old. How far back in our history would we have to go to find those levels of life expectancy?) And if by chance I DO meet the same guests next year, isn’t that a mixed blessing? Whilst I would be happy to see them to talk about their progress, I would also be sad to know they are in the same circumstances.

In this photo I have just finished filling 150 or so goodie bags for our guests last day.

On the 23rd I met R. R, a chap in his early 40’s (I think) was attending the centre to help his male partner secure temporary emergency accommodation. R’s partner was on a suspended sentence. For what I do not know, and truth be told I was a little scared to ask. R maintained that he was there to try and help his partner secure a place at a smaller hostel so his partner did not get anxious and “kick off again”. R’s partner was in fact found a place at a suitable hostel as I saw R again on the 28th and he told me all was well. R also told me, however, that he had represented himself at the High Court in an unlawful eviction case and had the papers to prove if I wanted to see them. I learnt that often the best policy was to listen to our Guests and not question the detail too much if their tale seemed a little on the tall side.

I was then tasked with driving J, another guest whose name I never got and S my male navigator to North West London. J was wheelchair bound and getting him into the shiny new Renault that Crisis has presumably been leant by a kind sponsor, was nerve wracking. Neither S nor I had any training for this and J’s small, deformed arms made the task even harder. After some jostling J was securely in the front and we were on our way. Nameless guest sat in the back with S and was meant to be dropped off with J after a short car journey. J, however, would be with us for a little longer.

Imagine organizing Crisis. They have lots of different centres in London. Their guests are completely transient and have varying physical and medical needs. Some centres have different services on offer, like opticians and dentists and guests don’t always start at the centre where the service they need is. Some guests arrive and need a place to stay for a night or two. Imagine running a business where you don’t know what your clients need or where the answer to those needs may be located and at what time the answer will actually be available, or if it will be available at all. The office staff at Crisis do an amazing job with what must feel like at times like juggling custard. And that’s the good times.

Having worked at The Hub in 2015, I was used to turning up at Point B with them not knowing I had come from Point A, with a box van full of blankets that needed unpacking and that I had to collect pots and pans for Point C. So, it was with very little surprise that I learnt that our first drop off for J not only did not have a wheelchair for him but that actually it was the wrong destination. Fortunately we had waited in the car so J was comfy and settled despite the long delay. J was also great company. He had a Chelsea hat on, as did I, so we spoke about the greatest team in England. He asked me lots of questions about the car, what this light meant or what that button did. He asked me how the radio knew what song was playing. We spoke about his 8 children and varied employment past. J was, in short, great bloody company. Here was this dishevlled man, a man I would walk past, hurry past even, in the street, pretending not to see, having a great conversation with me. On the way to the correct destination we joked about women and how J had attempted to chat up a female Volunteer. I dropped J off and said farwell.

No sooner had I got back to base than I was given my next driving duty. I was to escort three female guests to a female only shelter and K was to be my female navigator. Two of the guests were from Dubai and one from Germany. The German lady was very nervous and a little unsettled that she was leaving and did not really seem to know where we were going. She asked me about my driving history and whether or not I had the correct insurance. I decided now was not the right time to talk about my three seasons racing a Caterham in the Graduates series and instead reassured her that all was well.

German lady calmed down in the car and I would like to think that was due, in part, to my amenable and happy nature. Her English was almost perfect and all 5 of us spoke about the weather and food. The two Arabic ladies were dropped off first and then I escorted the German lady in to her shelter. With a cheery wave and a happy “goodbye” she went on her way. I then dropped K back to her flat in East London on my way back to base.

By the time I returned, I was the last person back and the remaining volunteers were waiting to close the centre. I parked the car and left, feeling exhausted and happy that I had brightened someone’s day. It was a feeling that would return at the end of the next two shifts.

My morning shift started at 7:45am on the 28th and I awoke before my alarm. I arrived early at the centre and was immediately tasked with making tea and coffee for my fellow early arriving volunteers. This would be a great day. My duties included serving hot drinks, washing the pots, pans and cutlery in the kitchen, door duty both in and out, wearing the information robot outfit (NOT as glamorous as it sounds) and more driving.

This time I was taking A to a scan facility in another centre. A’s frosty demeanor soon thawed in the car when he discovered that most of my family were from the East End and that my dad used to have a newsagents around the corner from where he grew up. Drivers always have a navigator with them in the car, for their protection as much as guests I guess. A was an ex BT engineer and had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of London and its various landmarks. I dropped him off, waited for him to finish being scanned (he got the all clear thank god) and returned him and our navigator safely back to base.

The highlight of my time at Crisis would follow shortly. I have already explained that I think of the centre as my centre and of fellow volunteers as my friends. I can not readily explain the feeling I got during our shifts de-briefing that afternoon. I can not even really think about it without welling up. It’s hard for your humble scribe to even explain why the debrief was…was, well special I guess.

Ably led by Lloyd, she (I know right?!) told us our numbers for the day. How many guests had been in, how many had showered and how many meals we had served. Over 200, 30 and 294 by the way. Some volunteers then shared some very touching stories from their shift. There was much clapping, whooping and cheering. English people are not usually very good at this. Americans, for example, rock at this. Us Brits not so much. But this, this was something else. This was sheer emotion and adrenaline. This was the end of an emotionally charged day. This was a room full of like-minded people who simply wanted to help their fellow man. This was the perfect end to my day. A day made up of those short Crisis hours I mentioned a while back.

The next day (today, if that makes sense) was my final shift. My duties included working on the sign in desk, signing in volunteers, taking guests food orders and serving them breakfast, working on the main door, some more driving and I even got to be acting Quartermaster for a few hours. This last role came with a radio and whilst “promotion” is probably the wrong word, it certainly felt nice to be trusted with this position after only a few days. I checked my watch for the first time at 12:30, some 5 hours after having arrived. Again, those short Crisis hours can really fly by!

In this photo I am on dishwashing duty.

The driving duty involved dropping H over in South East London. H, a young man in his early 20’s had a few bags with him. A few bags that contained everything he owned. A few bags there were his entire world. H was an ex-bodyguard. He had been in care since young, had spilt with his girlfriend 12 months ago and had a mum with mental issues. A regular Heroin user, H seemed to want to get his life back on track. We spoke for a good 25 minutes from the start of the journey until its end, where instead of giving him a hug like I wanted and he probably needed, we shook hands and wished each other well. I sincerely hope that some of my advice helps H in 2017.

C, my female navigator and I then played “hunt the Guest’s missing luggage” for the next two hours. Ill spare you the details but will say we visited two centres over the next ninety minutes to find a female guests lost luggage. This consisted of three carrier bags, a small suitcase and a rucksack. I never met the owner sadly but will assume this is all she owned. Neither will I dwell on the fact that both C and I were an hour late returning and missed our debrief; the last of this year. Gutted is an understatement. These Crisis hours were of the long variety.

I guarantee that if you volunteer for Crisis next year it will be the most rewarding, most heart breaking and most uplifting thing you will ever do. You will meet kind, appreciative guests and simply amazing volunteers, both from all walks of life and backgrounds. I met heathens and vegans, drug abusers and explorers. Now, I have around 4000 followers on LinkedIn, around 1400 on Twitter and many friends on Facebook. If only one per cent of my followers, friends and contacts out there volunteer, that will mean around 50 more volunteers for Crisis. I urge you to do it. You will thank and hate me for it in equal measure.