THE BIKE WHISPERER SPEAKS

by Amber Sheikh Interview has been edited for

length and clarity.

Have you heard of the “bike whisperer”? If not, let me introduce you. This month, I sat down with Manny – San Pedran, bike enthusiast, and survivor. In Manny’s words, “I didn’t grow up rich, but I didn’t grow up poor, either.” Manny has been in and out of homelessness for years and was gracious enough to share his story and the realities of trying to survive and escape “tent city.”

Sheikh: Where did you grow up? Tell me about yourself. Manny: Born next door in Harbor City, my family lived in San Pedro. I attended Bandini Elementary and went to San Pedro High. I have two daughters and a son. My daughters are both in college at Cal Poly Pomona. The eldest is studying biochemical engineering. The younger one is still figuring it out. My son is 10 years old.

What did you want to be when you grew up? Really, I wanted to be a teacher. I enjoyed working with kids and really loved history. So, I wanted to try and get a job in a school and went to my elementary school, Bandini, to apply for a teacher’s aide position. I worked there for five years in the computer lab, and I really enjoyed that.

What circumstances led to you becoming homeless? After my divorce, I lived in an RV while trying to work odd jobs. One of those jobs was fixing bikes. I also liked building things, so I tried my hand at construction and did a plumbing apprenticeship. But most companies wanted a salesman, not a tradesman, and I didn’t want to be the one charging an old lady thousands of dollars for a simple job, so that didn’t really work out.

Eventually, my RV got impounded, which meant I was losing a home and the space [where] I fixed bikes and all the tools and supplies I owned. I tried to couch surf for a while, but that wasn’t sustainable. Seven years ago, I was out of options and found myself without a home or even a couch. That was my first night on the streets for real.

What does being homeless feel like? How do you describe it to someone who has never had that experience? It’s a very sad feeling. I have these very big emotions, good and bad. But they get the best of me, and I just cry. It was so depressing to think about what I had. It’s like shell shock, and the days and weeks start to blur. Eventually, the only way I knew how long I’d be out there was to count the Christmases.

I recall one Christmas, alone in my dad’s old car and only had a blow torch to keep me warm, and I was so depressed that I would just sleep or stare at the sky. This triggered an even deeper depression with no motivation to get better.

You end up seeing a lot of violence – people dying around you, in front of you, and drug addiction.

What changed? I got a voucher and lived at California Hotel for two years. But so did a bunch of other people from my encampment, and some encampment drama followed me. So, some of them wanted me out, but rather than get evicted and mess up my rental history, I left willingly. Luckily, someone took me in, but it’s a temporary situation until I can get my own place.

What do you want? What does being housed mean for you? Stability. Routine. A place to fix bikes. My own place means I can have a routine, a schedule, a place to store my bike parts so I can keep busy. I still take ADHD medicine and deal with my depression, but the medication messes with my sleep. Having my own place would help me manage these issues. And, if I can manage these issues, I can see my kids.

Recently, someone I know died in a crash while riding his bike. That could have been me. I don’t want that to be me.

In your experience, what’s the biggest change on a significant level that needs to happen? What are the biggest roadblocks people face? We need more shelters and housing, just more places to go inside. One of the hardest things to deal with when you are housed is knowing your friends are still outside in the cold – especially this past winter. I kept thinking of everyone who was still outside.

I started taking Ritalin when I was eight years old and have been addicted to it in the past. As an adult, I’ve switched to non-stimulant medication, and being housed helps me manage the potential of repeating unhealthy patterns.

What is something we all can do to help? Don’t pass judgment. We have nowhere else to go. When I lived in my RV and I’d be working on my bikes, certain San Pedro neighbors would call the cops and complain. They would use other tactics to terrorize and make up false stories about me and others like me. They would take videos, post lies on social media, and call me a thief. I can read! I attended community meetings, explained my situation, but they didn’t want to hear it. They don’t want to hear it.

So many things strike me about Manny. Manny is a survivor. He’s a father, a good friend, and a fixer of bikes. He is so articulate and self-aware. San Pedro is Manny’s home, unhoused or housed. He is our neighbor and deserves to be seen, known, and respected.

Our community is complex. Some of you may have seen Manny or have some notion of who he is or what he’s done. And, honestly, that’s your truth. I respect that. This month, allow someone else’s truth in, especially if it doesn’t match yours. It doesn’t have to. Once we open ourselves to that notion, we can work towards caring for each other.

Do you need your bike fixed? Maybe you know of a place Manny could store his bike parts while he’s waiting for housing.

Drop me a line to tell me how reading this story made you feel: info@sheikhimpact.com. See you next month. spt

Amber Sheikh is a San Pedro resident, mother of two, community advocate, and owner of Sheikh/ Impact, a nonprofit consulting firm. She has nearly two decades of experience working in and with organizations solving homelessness and income inequality.