http://vinnies.org.au/files/NSW/SocialJustice/Katoomba_project_forweb_new by St Vincent de Paul Society Australia

Known Territory:

A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

“I want to stay in Katoomba. This is my place.

It’s known territory.”

Malcolm

Known Territory:

A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba Dr Andy Marks PhD (NE), BA (Hons 1) Senior Researcher St Vincent de Paul Society NSW Email: andy.marks@vinnies.org.au

ÂŠ 2009 St Vincent de Paul Society NSW This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this work may be reproduced by any process without prior written permission from the St Vincent de Paul Society NSW State Council. In all other cases the St Vincent de Paul Society NSW must be acknowledged as the source when reproducing or quoting any part of this publication. Layout and design by Rachel Anne Irvine Media enquiries Marion Frith Communications Officer Community and Corporate Relations St Vincent de Paul Society NSW Telephone: (02) 9568 0215 Mobile: 0417 446 430 Email: marion.frith@vinnies.org.au

The Mission of St Vincent de Paul Society The St Vincent de Paul Society is a lay Catholic organisation that aspires to live the gospel message by serving Christ in the poor with love, respect, justice, hope and joy, and by working to shape a more just and compassionate society.

The Mission of St Vincent de Paul Society The St Vincent de Paul Society aspires to be recognised as a caring Catholic Charity offering “a hand up” to people in need. We do this by respecting their dignity, sharing our hope, and encouraging them to take control of their own destiny.

About the St Vincent de Paul Society NSW The St Vincent de Paul Society (‘the Society’) was principally founded by Blessed Frederic Ozanam in 1833. Currently the Society maintains an active presence in 144 countries, serving the poorest of the poor. The Society is one of the largest charitable providers in Australia, with almost 20,000 members and volunteers carrying out ‘good works’ in NSW alone. The Society’s first NSW conference was founded by Charles Gordon O’Neill and aggregated by the International Confederation of the St Vincent de Paul Society in July 1881. Today, in NSW there are over 500 conferences, with dedicated Vincentians who conduct visits as required bringing comfort, dignity and hope to disadvantaged and marginalised people. At the direction of an elected State Council, the St Vincent de Paul Society NSW operates a number of Special Works including homeless facilities, more than 260 Vinnies Centres (shops) and a range of other programs dedicated to assisting marginalised and disadvantaged people. No work of charity is foreign to the Society. It includes any form of help, to anyone in need that alleviates suffering or deprivation, and promotes human dignity and personal integrity in all their dimensions.

Acknowledgments The author acknowledges the following individuals and organisations for their contribution to this report: Catherine Beaver, Michael Callaghan, Greg Hogan, Rachel Irvine, Julie McDonald, Jey Natkunaratnam, Trish O’Donohue, John Picot, Jenny Thomas, the NSW Social Justice Committee, the Sacred Heart Conference at Blackheath, Celia and Maree from the Wimlah Women and Children’s Refuge, the staff and volunteers of the Katoomba Vinnies Centre, Captain Colin and the volunteers at the Salvation Army Breakfast Service, Blue Mountains Coalition Against Violence and Abuse, Katoomba Mental Health Services, Blue Mountains Family Support Service, Blue Mountains Women’s Health Centre, Gunedoo Centre, Katoomba Neighbourhood Centre and AUSLAN. Special thanks to St Vincent de Paul Society Research Officer, Cassie Douglas for her extensive work in support of this project. Lastly, thank you to the interviewees featured in this report for their generosity in sharing their stories for the potential benefit of others.

Privacy statement St Vincent de Paul Society NSW policy does not permit the disclosure of client identity. The names of all clients featured in this report have been changed and ‘stock’ images used.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Foreword

Foreword The St Vincent de Paul Society is committed to speaking out in instances where the welfare of disadvantaged persons is threatened by unjust economic, political or social structures. Equally, the Society acts on behalf of the people it serves where injustice, inequality, poverty or exclusion are due to inadequate or unjust legislation. In its advisory capacity to the St Vincent de Paul Society’s NSW State Council, the Social Justice Committee commissions research projects aligned to the principles of Vincentian social justice. Research covers a range of topics and is disseminated to a diverse audience, as such the format and tone of the Society’s social justice publications encompasses a broad range of mediums, including major reports, online research ‘snapshots’, forums, discussion papers, media statements and briefings. Social justice publications are used for an array of purposes such as advocacy, awareness raising, reflection and education. This social justice research report, by Senior Researcher, Dr Andy Marks, examines homelessness and disadvantage within the context of an urban-rural centre; namely, Katoomba. The aim of this report is to promote dialogue and action on a selection of socio-economic factors perceived as precipitating and perpetuating marginalisation among vulnerable people within the region. Primarily based on interviews with people experiencing homelessness, this study gives voice to those who may not otherwise be heard. The St Vincent de Paul Society respects the trust these people have shown through their decision to share their stories. It is noteworthy that all interview subjects expressed a desire that their stories would help others. On behalf of the NSW Social Justice Committee I encourage you to reflect on the considered analysis and discussion offered in this paper. We welcome your comments, not only on the issues covered in this study, but your thoughts on any matters of relevance to Vincentian social justice. Yours sincerely,

Michael Callaghan Vice President, Social Justice St Vincent de Paul Society NSW State Council

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Acknowledgements

Foreword

Contents

Introduction

Homelessness in Australia

Katoomba: A socio-economic and demographic profile

The St Vincent de Paul Society in the Blue Mountains

Brian

Anthea

Tony

Randle

Megan

Malcolm

Wimlah

Captain Colin

Conclusion

Endnotes

Bibliography

Contents

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

St Vincent de Paul Society NSW

Introduction

Prompted by a recommendation from St Vincent de Paul Society NSW State Council members Beverley Kerr and Des Kinsella, this study presents analysis and interview narratives of homelessness and socio-economic marginalisation in Katoomba. The broad focus of the report is to assess personal experiences of homelessness in a centre of urban-rural nexus; a juncture between inner-city and regional environments. Major peripheral centres like Katoomba, Nowra, Newcastle and Wollongong pose challenges and opportunities in the area of homelessness distinct from those apparent in more environmentally divergent and clearly delineated urban and rural zones. The anecdotal assessments of various homeless service providers suggest urban-rural junctures present

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

higher representations of mobile or transient homeless persons. Not only are these persons perceived as exhibiting a higher than average propensity for locational shifts, but they are also thought to experience more frequent shifts between homelessness criteria such as primary, secondary, tertiary and marginal. On a case-by-case level, the interview narratives in this report test these assumptions.

In addition to recording selected experiences of homelessness and socio-economic marginalisation in the area, this report aims to identify gaps in service delivery and provide the St Vincent de Paul Society, government and relevant stakeholders with the resources to develop informed solutions. As a reflection of the highly consultative level of inter-agency partnership and interaction that exists among the majority of social service providers in Katoomba, it is intended that this the report will also work towards further consolidating operational collegiality. Objectives In accordance with the tenets of Vincentian social justice, this report’s primary objective is to “help the poor and disadvantaged speak for themselves”.1 This principle guides the interviews comprising the bulk of this study. It is also intended that these in-depth interviews and accompanying narratives will function as affirmations of the experience of homelessness and broader identity processes. While observatory remarks are offered in the concluding chapter, this report does not present explicit recommendations; rather, through its analysis of socioeconomic factors, personal experience and client-service interactions, it presents a referential basis for determination and action by social services providers and policy makers.

Given the St Vincent de Paul Society’s involvement in all of the interviews presented in this report, chapter 4 comprises a reading of the Society’s structure, capacity and operations within the Blue Mountains Region, including an appraisal of the usage patterns of inter-agency emergency accommodation contingencies.

Introduction

Reports from local service providers, most prominently the St Vincent de Paul Society and a range of agencies, including the Salvation Army, Wimlah Women’s Refuge and the Katoomba Coalition of Community Groups assert that while services for homeless women in the area may be conditionally considered adequate, there is little in the way of appropriate services for men in Katoomba, and the upper Blue Mountains region.

Structure Beginning with a broad assessment of the homeless population in Australia, chapter 3 of this report presents a socio-economic and demographic profile of Katoomba. As a preparatory to this study’s focus on distinct urbanrural experiences of homelessness, noteworthy variations in regional and national statistics are also examined at this preliminary stage.

Chapters 5-10 of the report comprise interviews conducted with persons experiencing homelessness or marginalisation within Katoomba and the upper Blue Mountains area. Interviews were conducted in the Katoomba Vinnies Centre between May 2008 and December 2008. The interview narratives have been prepared from recorded transcripts. At this stage of the report, commentary is limited to explanatory notes. Wherever possible the intention is to afford participants full-voice, thus editing has been minimal. The Centre interviews are followed by interviews conducted with the following informal inter-agency partners of the St Vincent de Paul Society Blue Mountains Region: Wimlah Women and Children’s Refuge; and the Salvation Army. While the Society is actively engaged with a range of social services in the area, Wimlah and the Salvation Army Breakfast Service are the agencies with whom the most intensive level of interaction and cooperation occurs. The report closes with a critique of the issues raised throughout, addressing the interviews and analysis in a manner directly reflective of the stated objectives.

Furthermore, this study’s examination of the St Vincent de Paul Society’s service profile in Katoomba seeks to inform the Society’s planning and policy development in the region and comparable locations and circumstances. Methodology This report has primarily been prepared from extensive interviews conducted with homeless persons in Katoomba, as well as interviews with relevant service providers and practitioners. Feedback received at a regional homelessness forum held in Blackheath in September 2008 has also been considered. Additionally, this study analyses socioeconomic, health, housing, employment and demographic data applicable to the region in question and the interrelated subject matter.

Homelessness in Australia

To contend with the complex and diverse levels of homelessness apparent throughout Australia, governments, the social services sector and researchers typically augment qualitative analysis with two widely accepted enumerating definitions of homelessness; cultural and subjective.

The ‘cultural’ definition of homelessness In their methodology for the first Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) count of the total homeless population in 1996, researchers David MacKenzie and Chris Chamberlain devised a set of cultural categories describing four degrees of homelessness.2 These categories are measured by a number of factors primarily relative to the median socially constructed standard of dwellings in western liberal democratic societies. Primary homelessness MacKenzie and Chamberlain describe people living on the streets, those who seek shelter in “deserted buildings, improvised dwellings, under bridges and in parks” as experiencing “primary homelessness”.3 This category is

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

perhaps the most commonly recognised (and stereotypically understood) form of homelessness; it is often interchanged with the colloquial term, ‘sleeping rough’. Secondary homelessness The category of “secondary homelessness” encompasses “people moving between various forms of temporary shelter; including friend’s houses, emergency accommodation, youth refuges, hostels and boarding houses.”4 To qualify for secondary homelessness, accommodation must generally not exceed twelve weeks.

Marginally housed The “marginally housed” category of homelessness refers to “people in housing close to the minimum standard”, that standard being “equivalent to a small rented flat with a bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom.”6 To be marginally housed according to MacKenzie and Chamberlain’s cultural definition, an individual will be in premises such as a caravan park without security of tenure and not in full-time employment. The qualifying factors for this category are contentious. The narrow ‘minimum standard’ paradigm is highly subjective and difficult to apply as an enumerating device across vastly differing forms of nonconventional housing. This uncertainty has in part prompted the ABS to omit this category in its count of the total homeless population. Conscious of the experience of marginal housing, the St Vincent de Paul Society does include this segment in its interpretation of the ABS’s total count of the homeless population;7 see TABLE 2.3.

While individual experiences of homelessness may not fit neatly into categories, the cultural and subjective definitions of homelessness are useful as guides for the provision of resources and assistance to homeless people. ABS data comparisons The following comparisons of the most recent ABS homelessness data sets track general trends of note among the homeless population.9 Limited resource allocation restricts counting of homeless persons to national and state levels. At this stage, regional data of an acceptable level of accuracy and consistency is unavailable.

Homelessness in Australia

Tertiary homelessness The term “tertiary homelessness” applies to “people living in single rooms in private boarding houses – without their own bathroom, kitchen or security of tenure.”5 These people are defined as homeless because their accommodation does not meet the minimum community standard of housing.

adversely affect the adequacy, safety, security and affordability of that housing.”8

The ‘subjective’ definition of homelessness The Supported Accommodation Assistance (SAAP) Act’s 1994 definition of homelessness is formed on the basis of the following subjective criteria: “A person is homeless if, and only if he/she has inadequate access to safe and secure housing. A person is taken to have inadequate access to safe and secure housing if the only housing to which a person has access: (a) damages or is likely to damage a person’s health; or (b) threatens a person’s safety; or (c) marginalises the person by failing to provide: i) adequate personal amenities; or ii) economic and social support that a home normally affords; or (d) places the person in circumstances which threaten or

Table 2.1

Total homeless persons in Australia Year

Total No.

2006

104,676

2001

99,900

1996

105,304

Table 2.2

Forms of homelessness in Australia Year

Total No. of primary homeless (% of total homeless)

Total No. of secondary homeless (% of total homeless)

Total No. of tertiary homeless (% of total homeless)

2006

16,375 (15.6%)

66,714 (63.7%)

21,596 (20.6%)

2001

14,158 (14.2%)

62,865 (62.9%)

22,877 (22.9%)

1996

20,579 (19.5%)

61,426 (58.3%)

23,299 (22.1%)

Table 2.3

Marginally housed persons in Australia Year

Total No. of marginally housed

Total homeless population including marginally housed

Marginally housed as a percentage of the total homeless population

2006

17,496

122,172

14.3%

2001

22,868

122,768

18.6%

1996

14,773

120,077

12.3%

Note: TABLE 2.3 This amalgamated count (preferred by the St Vincent de Paul Society NSW) stabilises the total population figure and accounts for the legitimisation of the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;homelessnessâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; of marginal housing.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Table 2.4

Homeless persons in Australia by age (Incl. % of total homeless poplation) Year

0-18 (%)

19-35 (%)

35- (%)

2006

34,073 (32.6%)

26,308 (25.1%)

44,635 (42.6%)

2001

36,001 (36%)

21,680 (21.7%)

37,219 (37.3%)

Homeless persons in Australia by gender (Incl. % of total homeless population) Year

Male (%)

Female (%)

2006

58,619 (56%)

46,057 (44%)

2001

57,942 (58%)

41,958 (42%)

Homelessness in Australia

Table 2.5

Katooomba: A socio-economic and demographic profile

A statistical overview of the Katoomba region â&#x20AC;&#x201C; population 7,623 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; suggests that it represents the Australian average across several criteria, including age, gender distribution and ethnicity; refer to TABLE 3.1. There are some slight variations, such as in the Indigenous population, where Katoomba presents a slightly higher percentage than the national average. Similarly, there is a slightly higher percentage of people born in England in Katoomba than the national average. However, as a whole, slightly more people are born in Australia than the national average, with more people speaking English as their first language. Katoomba has a higher population of people with no religious affiliation than the average, an approximately average population of Anglicans, and a population of Catholics which is below the national average. Significantly more people are not currently married, never married, or separated, compared to the country as a whole. There are fewer couples with children than the average, and significantly more single-parent families.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

There is a higher percentage of professionals and community workers in Katoomba than the national average, with populations of other occupations approximately average. There is a higher than average proportion of people working in the service sector. The level of family income in Katoomba is significantly lower than the average.

Katoomba: A socio-economic and demographic profile

Compared to the national average, far fewer people are employed on a full-time basis, although the population of part-time employees is higher. The number of unemployed is also slightly higher than the average.

Rent and housing repayments in Katoomba are slightly below average. There are less fully-owed homes in the area, and more rented dwellings compared to the country as a whole. Dwellings in the area are far less likely to be family households, and far more likely to be lone person homes than the average. The private rental market represents 16.07% of all occupied private dwellings in Blue Mountains (up from 14.45% in 2001) and compared with 21.9% on average across the Greater Metropolitan Region.

Table 3.1

Key regional characteristics and indicators: Katoomba, 200610 Characteristic

Katoomba

(%) of total persons in Katoomba

(%) of total persons in Australia

Total residents

7,623

n/a

Male

3,622

47.5%

49.4%

Female

4,001

52.5%

50.6%

233

3.1%

2.3%

English spoken at home

6,517

85.5%

78.5%

No religion

2,022

26.5%

18.7%

Married

2,110

34.3%

49.6%

Never married

2,560

41.6%

33.2%

Divorced/Separated

1,133

18.4%

11.3%

Employed full-time

1,675

49.0%

60.7%

Employed part-time

1,260

36.9%

27.9%

Employed (on break)

2.5%

2.6%

Unemployed

284

8.3%

5.2%

2,584

33.9%

37.0%

Indigenous

No tertiary qualifications

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Table 3.2

Selected income and housing indicators: Katoomba, 200611 Characteristic

NSW

Nationally

$386

$461

$466

$1,008

$1,181

$1,171

Median household income (p/w)

$667

$1,036

$1,027

Median rent (p/w)

$180

$210

$190

2.2

2.6

Median individual income (p/w) Median family income (p/w)

Median persons per dwelling

Health indicators and socio-economic inequities: Katoomba The Sydney West Area Health Service compiled a series of health and morbidity indicators as a rationale for their 2005-2006 Equitable Communities Program.12 This rationale sought to identify many of the health disparities between Katoomba and state averages as being a direct consequence of the array of inequalities attributable to the regionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s pronounced level of socioeconomic disadvantage. Katoomba has a 20 per cent greater death rate then would be expected for those less then 80 years old, as compared to the state of NSW as a whole, ranking 33rd out of 530 postcodes. Premature death for females in Katoomba in the 25-75 age range (for all mortality causes) is 36 per cent above the rate for NSW and 42 per cent above the average for men. The rate of coronary heart disease experienced by males in Katoomba is 53 per cent above the rate for NSW. Mental health suffers when social conditions are adverse. Katoomba is the only postcode in the Blue Mountains to have significantly higher rates of mental and behavioural disorders for 15-24 year-olds than the state average. Katoomba has the highest proportion of Blue Mountains families with children living off household incomes below $399 per week (17.6%). The state average is 13.2%.

Katoomba: A socio-economic and demographic profile

Katoomba

Despite geographical isolation and harsh winter conditions, 21.4 per cent of Katoomba households do not have a vehicle. The NSW average is 13.5 per cent. Single parent families comprise 15 per cent of all NSW families. Katoomba is well above this (24.3%) with more than a third of all Katoomba children (34%) living in single parent families. The proportion of households in Katoomba experiencing rental stress is 60.9 per cent. Rental stress is typically measured as an outlay greater than 30 per cent of total household income spent on rent.

St Vincent de Paul Society in the Blue Mountains

St Vincent de Paul Society NSW maintains an extensive and active presence throughout the state. The Society is structured on a four tier basis: Conference A grouping of St Vincent de Paul Society members generally comprising of between 5-15 Vincentians within a Catholic Parish. Conferences primarily engage in the core Vincentian act of Visitation (person-toperson visits with disadvantaged people in their home or other location, including prisons, and hospitals). Region A grouping of Conferences within a designated Diocesan area, generally comprising between 50-100 members. The Blue Mountains Regional Council is made up of 8 Conferences and over 80 members.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Special Works The Blue Mountains Region comprises two Special Works, the Katoomba Foodbank and the Springwood Foodbank; these services enable the storage and distribution of essential foodstuffs to clients.

State A grouping of the state’s 10 Dioceses, including the Parramatta Diocese of which the Blue Mountains Region is a part. There are approximately 7,200 members within NSW, and 12,500 associate members (volunteers). The Society in NSW is governed by a member elect body, NSW State Council.

Vinnies Centres Vinnies Centres or shops are perhaps the most visually recognisable symbol of the Society’s presence throughout NSW. In addition to raising funds (through the sale of donated goods) to support the Society’s work with disadvantaged and marginalised persons, Centres are a vital contact point in the community for people seeking assistance. Blue Mountains Region Centres are located in Blackheath, Blaxland, Glenbrook, Katoomba, Lawson and Springwood.

Additional structures The Diocese structure also comprises Youth and Young Adult Conferences (10 within the Parramatta Diocese), and various specialised facilities or services referred to as Special Works.

St Vincent de Paul Society in the Blue Mountains

Diocese A grouping of The Parramatta Diocese, of which the Blue Mountains is a part, contains 4 Regional Councils; Blacktown, Nepean-Hawkesbury, Parramatta and the Blue Mountains.

Table 4.1

Member Information 2007-2008 (Incl. % change from previous year) No. of members 2007 2008

Conference location

Conference name

Blackheath

Sacred Heart

14 (0%)

23 (-11.5%)

Emu Plains

OL of the Way

8 (+30%)

11 (-38.9%)

Glenbrook

St Finbar

11 (0%)

50 (+6.4%)

Glenbrook

Immaculate Heart

9 (0%)

42 (+5.0%)

Katoomba

St Canice

10 (-28.6%)

48 (+77.8%)

Lawson

OL of the Nativity

9 (0%)

25 (0%)

Springwood

OLH of Christians

10 (0%)

44 (-8.3%)

Springwood

St Thomas Acq.

7 (-22.2%)

25 (+4.2%)

78 (-3.7%)

225

268 (+19.1%)

Table 4.2

No. of meetings 2007 2008

Conference visitation and assistance 2007-2008

Conference location

Conference name

No. of visits/interviews

No. of persons assisted

2007

2008

2007

2008

Blackheath

Sacred Heart

366

340 (-7.1%)

948

781 (-17.6%)

Emu Plains

OL of the Way

150

193 (+28.7%)

426

521 (+22.3%)

Glenbrook

St Finbar

256

215 (-16.0%)

554

453 (-18.2%)

Glenbrook

Immaculate Heart

754

240 (-68.2%)

390

390 (0%)

Katoomba

St Canice

3,485

2,806 (-19.5%)

5,946

5,206 (-12.5%)

Lawson

OL of the Nativity

310

254 (-18.1%)

771

709 (-8.0%)

Springwood

OLH of Christians

607

760 (+25.2%)

1,104

1,119 (+1.4%)

Springwood

St Thomas Acq.

417

356 (-14.6%)

1,112

794 (-28.6%)

6,345

5,164 (-18.6%)

11,251

10,036 (-10.8%)

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Table 4.3

Client Support 2007-2008 Conference location

Conference name

Value of food, vouchers, transport, accommodation, utilities, clothing, furniture, toys and other assistance ($).

2007

2008

Sacred Heart

6,638

9,074 (+36.7%)

Emu Plains

Our Lady of the Way

4,075

3,900 (-4.3%)

Glenbrook

St Finbar

3,065

8,424 (+174.9%)

Glenbrook

Immaculate Heart

754

data unavailable

Katoomba

St Canice

23,480

18,289 (+22.1%)

Lawson

Our Lady of the Nativity

4,566

3,215 (-29.6%)

Springwood

OLH of Christians

576

1,780 (+209.0%)

Springwood

St Thomas Acquinas

8,932

10,311 (+15.4%)

52,484

54,993 (+4.8%)

Note: TABLE 4.3 Blue Mountains Regional Council typically pays for a proportion of client expenses on behalf of Conferences. In 2007-2008 this amounted to: $110,073. This statistical criterion has not been recorded in previous years.

Table 4.4

Government vouchers distributed in Blue Mountain Region 2006-2008 (Incl. % change from previous year) Voucher type

2006-2007 Total value ($)

2007-2008 Total value ($)

Water

24,000

70,800 (+195.0%)

Electricity

65,100

39,000 (-40.1%)

Telstra

10,035

10,000 (-0.4%)

99,035

119,800 (+21.0%)

St Vincent de Paul Society in the Blue Mountains

Blackheath

Table 4.5

Persons assisted with items donated to Vinnies Centres 2006-2008 Entity

2006-2007 No.

2007-2008 No.

Families

532

479 (-10.0%)

Individuals

1,064

1,199 (+12.7%)

Table 4.6

Value of items distributed to clients by Vinnies Centres 2006-2008

Item

Total value ($)

Clothing

12,190

9,150 (-24.9%)

Electricals

0 (-100.0%)

Furniture

25,670

42,100 (+64.0%)

Kitchen wares

525

134 (-74.5%)

Manchester

4,500

3,540 (-21.3%)

Blankets

3,800

3,825 (+.7%)

46,760

58,749 (+25.6%)

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Table 4.7

Persons accommodated by the combined St Vincent de Paul Society and Salvation Army, ‘Blue Mountains Emergency Men’s Accommodation Service, Katoomba, 2006-2007 No. of persons accommodated

July

August

September

October

November

December

January

February

March

April

May

June

Emergency Men’s Accommodation Funded by the state government, the Blue Mountains Emergency Men’s Accommodation Service is operated by the Salvation Army and the St Vincent de Paul Society. The service provides homeless men accommodation and meal at a local pub (comprising a large room with six beds) for periods of up to a week, during which longerterm housing options are explored. Breakfast Service The Salvation Army operates a breakfast service in a small community hall in Katoomba city centre. In the 20072008 financial year, the service provided 3,780 meals to homeless persons in the region.13 Social Work Referrals Referrals to Centrelink social workers in the greater western Sydney area increased from 2,503 in 2005 to 4,069 in 2007; by October 2008, the number of referrals had reached 4,142.14 Despite this major increase, social worker allocation for the Centrelink Katoomba office has be reduced from five to three days per week.

St Vincent de Paul Society in the Blue Mountains

Month

256 Note: TABLE 4.7 Data compiled by Marie Wood (BMEMAS)

Brian

ixty-one year-old Brian currently resides in a friend’s car in a vacant lot behind retail premises in Katoomba. He has lived in the region for most of his life, and has a full-time volunteer position with a local agency. Brian offers the following account of the events preceding his present experience of primary homelessness. “I was staying in a room above a local hotel. I had been living there for several years rent-free because I did some lead lighting for them. Then they charged me rent, and it got too much for me, so I stopped paying. Of course the manager didn’t like that so he said, ‘you’re not paying rent, get out!’ That was about five months ago.” Brian then sought assistance from the St Vincent de Paul Society. Vinnies member, John looked into Brian’s situation and managed to secure him limited accommodation in a room above another hotel in town where the Society and other agencies have an arrangement.

As Brian recounts, “John put me up at the local pub for as long as he possibly could, that was for about a month. When that ran out I had to leave, and then I had nowhere to go.” Learning of Brian’s predicament, Bonnie, the manager of the agency for which he volunteers approached him. “Bonnie said you can sleep in my car if you wish – she didn’t say ‘you can stay at mine’, because people might talk if she did!” Brian laughs, revealing again the importance of humour in his life. Brian has been staying in Bonnie’s car now for about five months. “It’s comfortable enough”, he says, “although there’s no bathroom!” Whenever possible, the Society arranges for Brian to stay intermittently at the local pub. “I’ll have a shower”, says Brian, “because I’m at the pub again tonight.”

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Former St Vincent de Paul Society, Regional President, Catherine explains, “We’ve booked Brian in for a week, but unfortunately, we’re now at the end of our funding. It’s very short-term accommodation. We only get a grant of so much from the government each year, and it’s got to be spread over the year. At this stage Brian has absorbed about $2,000 of that funding.” Catherine continues, “I have had a long conversation with the people who administer this accommodation program. I stood my ground, and I said, ‘this man is homeless. He will be staying in a room for a week.’ So all we’ve got is a week’s timeframe to try to get something more permanent set-up for Brian. We’ve only got that week.” “No, you can’t stretch it”, says Brian. “No”, Catherine replies. “We do have a bit of emergency money that I could tap into...”

“Unfortunately yes, it is for an emergency”, Catherine concludes.

Brian’s Story

Brian responds, “But you can’t have one person using it all. It’s got to be spread around.”

Brian’s volunteering work is one of the few consistent features of his life. On average he works about six days a week. His precarious accommodation status makes the hours between his volunteering logistically difficult yet he is reluctant to complain. Not to mention the relatively extreme climatic patterns of the Katoomba region, sleeping in a car also presents certain security and privacy issues. As Brian says, “I had someone knock on the car window the other night asking for a light. I said, ‘Piss off mate!’ And that’s not the only one.” The stress associated with this sleeping arrangement could readily a trigger depressive or anxious reaction. However, Brian says he is fine and is “not getting down” about his situation. “As long as I can have a few beers in the night, and crash in the car, I’m fine.” Looking back and considering where his fluctuating experience of homelessness began, Brian reflects on the last time he resided in conventional housing, “It was when I was married and owned my own house, and all that sort of stuff.” Brian says he first came to Katoomba in 1993. Prior to that he lived in Tamworth. “I worked as a tradesman, a lead lighter, stained glass and all that. I had my own business with my wife. That fell apart.” Brian continues, “I divorced again in 1996. My ex kept the house and paid me out a lump sum, not very much, and I

was just living in rented accommodation for a while. Things just gradually got worse and worse, and now here I am. A bum.” He laughs, “A bum who’s working six days a week!” Brian does not feel that the stress of his marriage breakdowns directly contributed to the failure of his housing. “No, we’re good mates now; I don’t have any mental worries about it. Shit happens.” Catherine recalls Brian’s arrival at the Katoomba Vinnies Centre around fifteen years ago. “I can remember Brian coming here one day with a little blue bag, and someone said to me, ‘that man is homeless’. I knew he had been working in the community as a volunteer, and I thought, what do we do now? Then I think, whoever was in charge at Katoomba at the time placed him at Maryville.” “Maryville”, Catherine explains, “was owned by the Society, it was a large convent given to the Society in Leura. It was divided up into little bedsits, for elderly people – designed for elderly women. It had common cooking areas, bathrooms, and lounge room. It ran itself; there was virtually no supervision there whatsoever.” For various reasons associated with issues such as supervision, duty of care, resourcing and, most importantly, the welfare of the facility’s residents, the Society decided to close Maryville. Catherine continues, “I went down there with an executive from State Council, it was the first time I’d met a lot of the residents. Some had been there for twenty years.” “Six of us lived there at the time”, Brian recalls. Catherine explains, “I managed to resettle everybody except Brian. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t kick up a fuss – there were some residents that couldn’t get around; he was more concerned about them. I’ve always felt we had a duty of care as far as Brian was concerned.” Brian had resided at Maryville for a period of about two years prior to its closure. While he has consistently maintained his volunteer work since then, his unstable living arrangements have continued unabated. Regarding the immediate future, Brian will attempt to reconnect with the system. “Well I’m going to see the Department of Housing, and they will probably refer me to community housing. I have to go up tomorrow, see Centrelink and book an appointment. The Department of Housing officer only comes up every Tuesday, once a week, and I’ve missed out today. So I’ll go next week, and try to get something then.” Brian’s sole source of income is Newstart. Given the fact he has no fixed abode, he has gained permission from the agency with which he volunteers to use their address.

they’ve got to abide by the rules set down by their bosses, but I find them very friendly.” Catherine concurs, “Oh, no problems with Centrelink at Katoomba, they’re absolutely marvellous. Wonderful, we’ve never had a problem there. I’ve brought all sorts of people there, and they instantly understand what the problem is.” “If I ever have a problem and I have to see them”, Brian adds, “they’ll bend over backwards to try and fix it.” Discussing his long-term plans, Brian says he is determined to stay in the local area, as his friends are here and he knows the region well. “I’ll just keep doing my volunteer work. I don’t want a job, I can’t walk for starters, I’ve got blocked arteries in my legs, so walking up and down stairs is pretty hard. So I can’t have a job, I can’t stand on my legs too long.” Brian is concerned that the prolonged lack of stability in his living arrangements has affected other parts of your life. In many ways he says he has become so used to living this way that engaging with others can sometimes prove difficult. “I would like to have my own little place, with a kitchen, and a bathroom – no shared arrangements”, says Brian. “I don’t think I could actually live with anybody.” Having no secure place of his own has eroded his tolerance. “I’m sick of people.” Lack of privacy has also made interacting with others difficult. As Brian explains, “Even now, I go to the RSL quite a bit, and I sit by myself most times, and well it’s I’m still working, people come up and say oh Brian, you’ll be in the shop tomorrow, can you do this? Even when I’m having a quiet beer by myself, I’m still working.” Catherine worries about Brian losing touch with his creative and self-affirming pursuits. “I’m concerned about Brian’s stained glass work. He does magnificent stained glass windows. I’ve seen his beautiful portfolio, and he needs somewhere where he can continue to develop that, because it’s a terrible loss to the community if he cannot do them.” “If I had the financial backing”, says Brian, “I’d love to set up a studio. My dedication to my work is part of the reason I got divorced”, he laughs. “I used to stay up til about two in the morning cutting glass. My wife would say, ‘Brian, when are you coming to bed’, I’d reply, ‘I’m not, I’m busy!’” Brian observes that his craftsmanship is a healthy alternative to potentially destructive personal pursuits. “When I’m cutting glass, I don’t drink.” Asked whether his drinking has escalated in recent years, Brian replies, “possibly”.

On the topic of Centrelink, Brian says, “I find them quite good,

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

“I wouldn’t class myself as an alcoholic”, he continues, “but I do like to have a beer, I’ll get one if I have the money, but I can go without. I can go for days.” Having known Brian for over a decade, Catherine is convinced that his lack of stability stems from his impeded access to the forms of self expression that offer him personal stability and healthy levels of self-esteem. “Brian was having to compromise because of his home life”, says Catherine, “and the thing that is really severely compromised is his ability to do stained glass work, and do it to such a high quality. It’s really superb stained glass work, and I’d just like him to be in a place where he can close the door and say, ‘this is where I live, this is my space, and this is what I do’. Stained glass work is quite expensive.” “Because of the hours you’ve got to put in”, adds Brian.

Asked whether he has explored the possibility with Centrelink of taking up the NEIS scheme or another type of business grant, Brian replies, “Yes, several years ago yes, but nothing came of it. I was living in a unit at the time, with no space to actually get the studio up and running.” Commenting on Brian’s long-term prospects, Catherine says “he would really benefit from access to some of the facilities that exist in the city. If he could tap into the type of services that exist, for instance, at the Matthew Talbot Hostel or the new learning centre, I think he could really display his talents.15 The problem is”, Catherine adds, “all of Brian’s support network, his volunteering work and his life are in Katoomba, not in the city. He needs recreation services that he can access up here.”

Initially attending only twice a week, Brian now utilises the Salvation Army’s breakfast service six days a week. Sleeping in a car makes it difficult for Brian to maintain a regular diet. For this reason, the breakfast service has, in his words “been great”. Brian continues, “I can go up there before work and chat with people, or if I don’t feel like talking I can just sit on my own.” Brian agrees that the minimal level of assistance he feels he requires makes him a difficult proposition for many services. “I’m not actually living on the streets, like several people I do know. I’m not asking for much, just somewhere to live, that’s all. Somewhere to live, by myself, to do what I do, and still do my volunteer work. That’s all I require out of life. I’ve raised my kids, raised my grandkids, that’s all done, so now it’s only me.” While he seeks a relatively independent existence, Brian observes that his relationship with his family is improving. “I’m in touch with them a fair bit now. We lost contact for a few years, that was my fault, moving around all the time, changing phone numbers, but they finally found me after ten years, tracked me down.”

Brian’s Story

“But even if he didn’t make any money out of it”, Catherine continues, “it’s what he does, it helps define Brian.” In addition to its identity affirming propensity, she suggests his work is also a way alleviate negative thoughts. “You can’t do that in the back of the car”, she concludes.

socially with other people; he has a great social life. He volunteers six days a week and contributes to the community. Simply because he doesn’t fit into the basket of the homeless who are unable to assist themselves, he doesn’t qualify for the minimal level of assistance he needs.”

Brian continues. “I’ve got two kids, the eldest is forty and the youngest is about thirty-three. On top of that I’ve got thirteen grandkids. If I had a place to live it would be easier to maintain contact. I mean can’t really ask them to come and visit me in the back of a car.” Brain says he was very pleased to resume contact with his family. He comments that relations are good with everyone, “even with my first wife, the mother of all my children, we’re speaking again. It’s not perfect but it’s a start.”

Brian concurs, “I need a stable base. If I could have access to a space where I could work that would be perfect.” Catherine continues, “The kind of support Brian needs is minimal, whereas the level of support required by other people can be highly complex. It can be very frustrating when you come against a problem like Brian’s; particularly when you know that this person could get back on their feet if, for example, you set them up in a rental property for a fixed period and they paid a co-contribution to the rent. In these cases we could save a person from homelessness, and it would be relatively cheap to do. Other interventions are extraordinarily expensive.” “Somebody like Brian has the living skills”, says Catherine, “he knows how to live on his own, he knows how to interact

Anthea

nthea is a twenty-five year-old mother of two living in Katoomba. For the past six months she has been recovering from her experiences of domestic violence and homelessness.

Surmising the events that led to her current situation Anthea says, “Basically it started off with domestic violence, and then it led to the point where I actually had to put him in gaol, and I guess that throughout the years that we were together, debts just accumulated and accumulated.” Going back over the circumstances of her association with the perpetrator, Eddie, Anthea explains they had been in a relationship since she was eighteen. “We had two children together”, she adds, “a boy and a girl. The girl will be turning six in October and the boy is two in September.” Anthea says that their relationship was periodically interrupted. “We weren’t together a lot of the time. Eddie was in and out of gaol, so a lot of the time it was sort of me struggling on my own, but I guess the times I was alone I didn’t struggle sort of as much, because there wasn’t the other person, the other pressure.”

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Anthea’s Story

In addition to Eddie’s intermittent imprisonment, a range of other factors complicated the relationship. “Eddie’s an addict”, says Anthea. “Drugs, alcohol, everything; you name it.” This, she says was a source of significant pressure. Anthea is keen to emphasise the multi-faceted nature of her relationship with Eddie. “There were a lot of good times inbetween the abuse which strings you along, and we do, like, love each other. He’s just an addictive person. Until he gets the help he needs – he’s in rehab now for the first time in his life – hopefully that will straighten him out enough to spend time with his kids but we’re not so sure what’s happening yet.” In Anthea’s opinion, the violence was “drug-related”. The abuse, she recounts, “would go through a cycle where it would get to a point where there would be domestic violence, and then everything would calm down for six months and he would actually be good.” Anthea continues, “Something would happen, work-related, he might lose his job, or he might get stressed, or usually it had a lot to do with his family. He has a lot of brothers

and they’re all pretty much the same. We actually went to Queensland to get away from it.” Initially, says Anthea, the move interstate proved successful, yet it didn’t last. “For a while we thought everything’s good, but we missed our family and we came back and that’s when everything went haywire again and ended up in him going off again.” Describing the nature of the violence, Anthea covers a broad spectrum. “It was usually physical violence; very physical at certain times. The last time was probably the worst. He’s never actually pinned me down and punched. It’s more shoving and pushing and pulling, bad words. It’s the emotional things that are the worst. As soon as the bruises are gone you don’t think about it – it’s more the emotional things that he threw at me. They’re the things that stay with you.” The affect Eddie’s behaviour had on the children was a major consideration for Anthea. “Most of the time the violence was at night. The kids were asleep, and they are quite heavy sleepers. But probably the last time was the only time they really witnessed things, and that was the time I put him in gaol. It was a hard decision.”

Regarding Eddie’s general relationship with the children, Anthea is circumspect. “I guess he never really turned the abuse on to the kids. If it ever was the kids threatened, I would have left a long time ago. He was always loving towards the kids. But I guess there’s not much difference between what he does to me if it affects them.” Anthea notes that Eddie always expressed sorrow after incidents of abuse. “It’s hard because it’s drug-related with him, and we do love each other, which makes it even harder. But we just can’t be together.” Speculating as to the root of Eddie’s addiction and his violence, Anthea suspects his family environment played a significant role. “When Eddie grew up his father was very violent, like really bad violent. His dad should be in gaol for the rest of his life for the things he has done. He’s actually a priest. I’m not too fond of his family. We don’t have anything to do with them.” Eddie’s behaviour, in Anthea’s view, stems from the fact that his father’s abuse “wasn’t picked up early enough.” As a consequence, she suggests, “he’s been in gaol basically his whole life. He’s almost thirty. I know I’m talking about Eddie a lot”, she adds, “but he’s the cause of all this.” Angela says that Eddie’s notoriety in the criminal world made it difficult for them to make a clean break. “In his world he was quite high up and he’s quite well known which he struggles with now. A lot of people recognise him and he can’t get away from it. People like Eddie just attract those sorts of people once they’ve lived around that. They know by looking at someone whether they’re a drug dealer, and they sort of end up hanging around with the same people. It wasn’t picked up for him in juvenile – I mean, looking back now, Eddie and his brothers should have been taken away from their father a long time ago.” Anthea feels disappointed that Eddie didn’t get the help she believes he required. “He’s a bright guy. He’s a labourer but he’s very interested in computers. He’s very active so he wouldn’t be able to just sit at a desk. If things had been picked up a lot earlier and he had got an education, he would be well into his life by now. The same with his brothers, they’re not bad people. They’ve got no clue basically.” Eddie’s lack of maturity placed additional pressure on Anthea. She recognised early in their relationship that he didn’t know how to deal with his feelings. “He just wasn’t taught”, she says. “I had to teach him basic things – ‘wash your hands before you cook a meal’. You’d think that’s something that a mother and father should have to teach someone, not their partner. So I found that quite hard.” “In a way”, says Anthea, “it was as though I had three kids, not two. We had some counselling through his rehab and I

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

realised I loved him as a child rather than a partner; rather than as an equal.” Aspects of the relationship Anthea recognised as dysfunctional were manifest as violence at times of stress. “Up in Queensland”, says Anthea, “when we first went there, he felt that I drove him up there and things got quite bad for a while. For a year violent attacks were happening every three months or so.” “He became really resentful”, Anthea continues, “blaming me for taking him away from his family and things like that. Things got really bad up there. I put on a lot of weight. And then we came back down and I ended up trying to finish my nursing course. I got through most of it and then I put him in gaol, so I couldn’t finish it.” Turning to her studies, Anthea is committed to taking up her nursing course again. “I’ve been through it twice now, so third time lucky.”

“Well, he almost got done for kidnapping because he actually kind of forced me into the car because he had the kids in there with him. I didn’t want to leave them.” Anthea continues, “There was a violent incident in his parents’ house. I took off with the kids to go back home, pack some things and leave, but Eddie was too quick, he got a lift to the house and when he arrived the kids were in the drive still in the car while I was inside grabbing some things. When I came out to the car he was physical with me then. Then he jumped in the car with the kids, so I said to myself, ‘I’ve got to get there to be with the kids’. I didn’t want to leave them alone with him, so that’s why I got in the car.” Given the significant escalation that occurred after the original ‘incident’ at Eddie’s parent’s place, Anthea reflects on the implications of their lack of intervention. “They just stood there. They’re scared of him. Eddie’s dad was inside. His mum was actually the one that came and stood in between us. The dad just stayed inside – just pathetic. In their eyes I’m just a skinny white girl. That’s what they call me.” Returning to the events that ensued after Eddie forced her into the driver’s side of the car, Anthea feels a type of psychosis occurred. “His mind was gone at that time. I don’t think he even noticed the kids were in the back. He was gone. He was sitting next to me in the car, just rambling, mumbling, and I just kept driving just to get to the point where maybe he would calm down. I just kept driving. I ended up driving all the way to Penrith, out to Richmond and back again. We stopped at a park down there and came back again. The police ended up finding us, picking us up.”

Eddie’s religious faith was a point of contention. “It’s hard for me but he’ll have times when he’s really into church and everything and a couple of times when he just won’t go. I think it has a lot to do with his father. Like, he feels like he has to go because his father pushed him. His father bashed him for a lot of things – because he couldn’t read The Bible. Their father grew up overseas yet his sons grew up here and know English better. So he’s got a lot of conflicts going on inside of him, which I’m hoping rehab and counselling will bring out. Anthea’s observations about Eddie’s family background prompt her to discuss her own upbringing. “I didn’t have a lot of support from my parents. They are from [Western Sydney]. It’s hard – I’ve only lived in Katoomba for 20 months. I grew up in [outer north-western Sydney], and then when I had my first child we moved to [outer-Western Sydney] so all this sort of happened there and up in Queensland.”

Anthea’s Story

Events since the most recent episode of violence suggest that the violent incident was a catalyst for change on Anthea’s part.

Anthea continues, “A neighbour had called the police, because before we left the house he was yelling and screaming. Someone said we took off in a car, so the police assumed that he had sort of kidnapped us and taken off. When they actually pulled us over in the car, it was just relief at the end for him. He was just relieved. He got out and had a cigarette. He just snapped out of it. It was like he was pushing to go to gaol; because he’s been in gaol his whole life. He even said to me a few months before that that he felt he’d left his soul in gaol. Like he felt he had to go back to gaol to get it back or something. He said things like that a lot. His father was a priest so he was quite religious.”

Anthea’s estrangement from her family led her to believe she had few sources of external support. “I was all on my own.” Despite her isolation from family or friends, at one point, Anthea did make a decision to get some help. “Up in Queensland I started seeing a counsellor”, she says. “I had a lot of problems. I was molested by my brother when I was younger. It was brought up, and I thought I had better speak to someone at that time.” Anthea continues, “She wasn’t a rape counsellor or anything but I spoke to her about it, and to a certain point she could help me. Then I had to go to rape counselling, but I’ve only just done that now, up here. I’ve gone to the Mental Health Centre; well I’m on the list down there anyway.” Anthea displays considerable frustration at perceived impediments to access. “There’s always a list, no matter who you need to see. So I’ve seen counselling, but for everything else – no, I didn’t see anyone up in Queensland because we didn’t know anyone up there. We were only there for two years and then we came back.” While not learning directly of Anthea’s personal issues, Eddie eventually discovered what she had been going through. “He found out I was getting counselling, because one day he rang up and I was crying at home, when he was in gaol. In a way

he already knew because there was a lot of tension between me and my brother.” Anthea continues, “When I told him about what happened between me and my brother when we were younger, he just said, ‘I thought so.’ He didn’t get angry or anything – he was in gaol so he couldn’t do much – but the times when he is violent he has thrown it back in my face and said things which make it hard. I guess he just says things; he even tells me later that he says things because he knows it’s going to hurt me. He’s not saying it for any other reason. There were things like that which he did to me that hurt more than the physical stuff.” Anthea explains how the issues she was dealing with periodically became a source of physical and emotional tension between her and Eddie. “In general, he actually dealt with it all right but there were a few times where he was a bit funny about it. When it first came out and I was talking to a counsellor, he got a bit funny actually.” Anthea continues, “There was this one time when he started touching me and I started crying. I guess he thought that I thought of my brother when he was touching me, and I think that’s what got to him. But it wasn’t like that. It was just the time that it had all come up. He was the only person who knew. I’ve never had a problem since. When we came back from Queensland I actually told my mother. That was one thing I wanted to do when we came down here, because it happened to her with her grandfather, so she just kind of acts like it never happened.” Anthea says her mother refused to acknowledge the abuse. As Anthea says, “Mum just said, ‘Oh, you think about things in your childhood. You think of them differently from the way they happened.’ She’s a bit like that. She hasn’t dealt with a lot of things in her past, so I guess that’s just her. That generation, they just sort of lived life and covered everything up.” Despite her mother’s denial Anthea says, “I’m glad I told her.” Contemplating her mother’s reaction to news of her childhood abuse, Anthea considers her own reaction to the prolonged abuse she endured with Eddie. “The only thing I feel concerned about is the fact that I stayed. I don’t really feel guilty about it, but I could have left. There was nothing really stopping me – I mean, I had nursing as a career. I could have gone. The times Eddie was in gaol I did all right. We had a very strong connection, and it’s still there when I see him today. There’s still a strong connection between us. You can call it fate or whatever; it’s just something that’s hard to explain in words.” Looking at her present situation, Anthea discusses what happened after he was arrested. “They took him and he obviously went to gaol or whatever. I didn’t speak to him

for a few weeks because I didn’t need to get out money or anything. I guess for a few weeks you are kind of in shock and you just clean the house and get rid of their things. It doesn’t really sink in and then I guess I had to sort of sit back and think, ‘Oh, shit, what am I going to do now?’ We had a property, it wasn’t too dear, but we were behind already in a bit of rent, plus we had debts for the car and other things.” Because Eddie claimed he did not have sufficient identification, Anthea explains that the majority of household debts were in her name. “I got left with two peoples’ debts”, she says. “There’s thousands of dollars debt in small bills like telephone. It all adds up. The car – I’m driving it around now and the debt collectors are looking for it. What Eddie is trying to do now is he’s trying to get his super together to pay for those so at least we’ve got a car.” Anthea continues, “Before Eddie was locked up I was studying nursing, working and studying at the same time. I had gotten into a really bad habit with money, I guess, and I didn’t know what to do. So I decided to ring around and work out all my debts. It added up to, like, $30,000 or something. You sit there and you think, ‘Where the hell is it going to come from?’” “I did shift work”, says Anthea, “but when Eddie was arrested there was no-one at home to look after the kids anymore so I had to leave work which took a lot of money off me. So I had to leave the course and I think that’s when everything went a bit hectic and I realised, ‘Shit, I’m going to be homeless in a few weeks!’” Leaving the course was difficult for Anthea. “I had friends there, and I guess it was a way to get out and get away from the kids for a while.” Anthea recalls that forming friends was a big step. “It was hard. I’ve always found it hard to make friends. It’s always been like that, even through school. I wanted to leave school in year 10 because socially I didn’t feel as though I belonged. I wasn’t classed as a ‘reject’ or anything like that but socially I felt like I didn’t fit in with anyone.” Anthea continues, “I was the kind of person who would ‘jump’ – I don’t know whether it’s still the same but there’s groups in school, and I would be the one who was jumping from group to group because everyone would get too bitchy. I was going to leave in year 10, leave school altogether. I said to my parents, ‘Look, I don’t really want to be at school any more.’” Rather than support her decision to leave, Anthea’s parents encouraged her to move to another school. “I found a good group of friends there. Then I finished school. I guess I hung around with the guys – I was sort of hanging around with the football guys because the girls, I didn’t get them. Even now, trusting girls is real hard, especially with a guy like Eddie.”

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Anthea feels that the difficulty she encounters in relating to girls is connected to her relationship with Eddie. “When Eddie and I are together, he’s got a presence about him, that whole ‘gangster’ thing. Girls are attracted to that. It’s very hard to trust girls, because the types of girls attracted to him are not very good.” Anthea perceives she has difficulties in relating to people in general. “I don’t fit in, I don’t feel that I fit in at my daughter’s school. Like, I don’t talk. The other parents sit there and talk about renovating and ‘sanding the floorboards’ and I think ‘Shit! They complain about sanding the floorboards. I wish I had floorboards.’ It just seems so unimportant. Because I’m young, too, I don’t feel that I blend in very well. It doesn’t really bother me.”

Anthea says her current financial problems and issues with Eddie have pushed issues like friendship aside. “Since I came up here, back to being homeless, I’ve not actually slept on the street but it got to the point where I said, ‘Crap! I can’t pay the rent.’ When I added all of my debts together, I thought it’s just impossible.”

Anthea’s Story

On the issue of friends and supporting relationships Anthea continues, “I lost contact with my best friend, she was the best friend I ever had and I lost contact with her, she ended up going to Perth. I only just recently got in touch with her in the last few weeks. Eddie actually found her for me. He gave me a surprise. I thought it was the nicest thing he had ever done for me. I got back in contact with her, so that’s one friend.”

With debts mounting and her housing in jeopardy, Anthea describes what happened next. “A letter came telling me I was going to be evicted in two weeks. So I ran around with housing applications, ringing shelters, but shelters didn’t want to take me because Eddie was in gaol, so I wasn’t in what they called ‘immediate danger’. I rang up help-lines, I rang up DOCS helpline and they said, ‘Go down to the office’, so I went down to the office and they said, ‘Oh, you’re talking to the wrong people’. I replied, ‘Well, why the hell did they tell me to go down there on the phone?’” Anthea’s frustration with the system added to her already considerable levels of trauma and stress. “I ended up ringing DOCS back, crying. I went off at them for ages. I went through the whole process of explaining everything to them on the phone, and they sent me down to the office again and said I had an appointment with someone. The person I saw said, ‘We can’t do that here. We’re only for children at risk.’ And I thought, ‘Aren’t you the Department of Community Services? Aren’t you meant to help families no matter what?’ We were at risk of being homeless. I couldn’t stay with my parents because they’ve still got sort of younger kids than me living there so there is no room.”

Anthea felt let down. “I just thought that the whole thing was strange. I was just running around ‘Housing,’ trying to get everything together, like letters from the shelters and other stuff. I had been to a shelter before down at Penrith but I only stayed two days because the kids were really upset and I just couldn’t handle it at that time, it was just too much. The staff at the shelter wrote me a support letter and I filled in a lot of applications and did everything I could and then the people at the shelter rang Blue Gum Housing up here and luckily they had a house.16 It needed to be fixed up, like a new kitchen and all that put in, but they said ‘Since you say you’re in immediate need’ and luckily they said to move in. So it sort of happened really quite quick – lucky.” Anthea’s point of contact with the St Vincent de Paul Society, Catherine, explains the role played by Blue Gum Housing in the Katoomba area. “Blue Gum is associated with the Wimlah Refuge. It’s the next stage. It’s supported housing, so they have women going into those houses for a certain length of time, and they provide support for the family to get the family settled and on their feet. They give people the space they need to get their head together.” Turning to Anthea, Catherine says, “The person I’m seeing now is quite different to the person that I saw three months ago when I first saw Anthea. This is very common. When they get into the Wimlah loop, that’s when change takes place. People start to change and to heal because there it’s women looking after women; there’s a unique level of understanding.” Commenting on Blue Gum, Anthea says, “I guess the cheap rent gave me time to sit back, to go see a financial counsellor and get all of that crap sorted out. I’ve been there five months

and I’ve paid off nearly everything, except for the two big debts. I’ve got a few hundred dollars left.” Anthea goes on, “I’ve had a lot of help from Vinnies obviously – food, and the Salvation Army as well.” Referring to the Salvation Army store in Katoomba, Anthea says, “I volunteer now down there, two days a week while my children are at school. I’ve done a lot of courses, including financial counselling. That’s all free. You just go to Blue Gum and they say, ‘What are your goals, what do you need?’ And they sort of ring around and help you. Just now I’m trying to get out – I don’t feel comfortable up here. I’m not a mountain person; I don’t like the cold so I’m finding it quite difficult to live up here without family support. I don’t have family up here which is the sort of thing that I’m struggling with now, and I’m trying at the moment to transfer down to the Hawkesbury; we’ll see how it goes.” With greater stability, Anthea is starting to plan for the future. “I want to finish my course. That’s the next part of my life. That’s absolutely vital. Then I’ll be an enrolled nurse and I will never be out of a job again.” Anthea continues, at Blue Gum they told me, “You’re the first person at Blue Gum who’s actually even spoken about work.” Being the first to consider work is not the only factor that makes Anthea feel different from many women. “I guess that’s what makes it hard for me as well, because a lot of women in my situation do have drug problems and I don’t associate with them. I don’t understand them. If I was doing drugs and I was in that situation with Eddie, how could I tell

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Anthea sees addiction as being a critical factor in her relationship breakdown. “Me and Eddie could have been perfectly in love and perfectly happy if it weren’t for his addictions, alcohol and drugs. In a way, that’s what tore us apart.” While she recognises many services advise against it, Anthea hopes that in the long-term she and Eddie will reconcile. “We are hoping to get back together. It’s a long way away. I’m not at the point where I’ll step back. He’s got to earn his way back in, obviously. Right now we’re at the point where we’re just sort of talking about our messes and how to fix them. At least he’s doing that. He’s clean, he’s getting the counselling and stuff that he needs, which is a long way from where we were. At least we can talk about it now.” Anthea says some aspects of her experiences with support agencies have been frustrating. “What I found was a big problem is that no-one wanted Eddie and I to stay together and work it out. I found it was harder if I did want to work it out with him, that the support wasn’t there, that people looked down on me. I couldn’t get into a shelter, I couldn’t get into housing. I didn’t feel like the family support was there to be able to work it out rather than have to break up and do it on my own.” “I feel as though they don’t trust my judgement”, says Anthea. “If I did still want to work it out with Eddie, I felt as though they

would say, ‘Why would you want to stay with him when he’s so violent?’ I just found that was hard because I didn’t have the resources to make the choice, so I was sort of forced to separate.” “And even the cops…” Anthea continues. “Eddie was on the run for a while, and I actually took him down to the police station. I was sitting there in the waiting room and the cops behind the counter were looking down on me, ‘Look at her; she brings him into the station’. Once the situation has calmed down, he’s not a threat to me. I had already gone to the police about him because I needed help at a previous time, so I was thinking, ’Well, you guys didn’t come get him. I had to bring him to the station.’ They were like very mocking of me.”

Anthea’s Story

him to stop doing drugs if I was doing them? What would be the point of all the arguments, the fighting? So I’ve never touched them – never had a cigarette or anything in my life. I’m completely turned off drinking because I’ve seen how much it just wrecks people’s lives.”

“I’m not banking on things working out with Eddie”, says Anthea, “I just haven’t completely ruled out the possibility.” For now, Anthea says her priorities are herself and her children. “My daughter has a speech problem because I guess she was ignored a lot in her younger years when things were pretty bad. I had a lot of other problems, and I look back now and think maybe I was the cause of it, but I’m getting help with all that. She’s seen a counsellor with me. I came up here and I’ve sort of done all that stuff. The counsellor has finished with us now. He said, ‘You’ve taken the steps necessary’ and basically I do everything differently now.” Learning to accept help has been another important step for Anthea. “Before I was always, ‘No, I’ve got to do it on my own’ but when I came up here I thought ‘Stuff it!’ I can get help. I’ve gotten help from Vinnies and from the Salvos and I’m volunteering down there now which is good; I love that.”

Anthea says that recognising that you do not have to do everything on your own, has also reinforced her belief in honesty. “I’m not the kind of person to lie about what’s happened to me. I tell people what I’ve been through and if they don’t like it, too bad. I kind of get frustrated with people that pretend their life’s not what it is. There are a lot of other women in violence and they sort of live their life and they hang around other people that have no idea. They spend their money to get nice things and stuff, but that’s not them; that’s not their life. It’s a lie. I can’t stand that. I guess that’s their way of coping but I feel like I’m more open to other things. I’m going back to church, the Salvation Army church, I enjoy that.” Anthea says people like Catherine and Captain Colin of the Salvation Army have proven to be solid sources of support. “Captain Colin, he’s fantastic. He knows Eddie as well. That’s how I got in touch, through the Salvation Army, because Eddie was at their rehab centre.” On the topic of Eddie’s potential rehabilitation, Anthea is cautious. “Long-term, I can’t say what I want to do. I just face one small goal at a time now, rather than thinking, ‘He’s doing well, let’s jump back into it.’ Everything good Eddie does, I take it as a sign that things are improving. I mean, it’s obvious he’s going to relapse. It’s obvious things are going to happen in-between, but I don’t have to let that wreck my life anymore.” Tiller pointed As to any future she and Eddie may have, Anthea says, “I’ve pretty much put it all in Eddie’s hands. If he wants to earn his way back, then that’s up to him. I’m willing to. Obviously, I still love him, and we’ve got two kids together, but I guess time will tell. I’m not jumping back into it, and that’s what’s different. If he does good, I’ll think, ‘Oh, yeah, take him back’.” Anthea attributes much of her changing attitude towards her relationship to her increased level of awareness. “I’ve done a lot of courses and things like that, a lot of counselling on my own, read a lot of books. Dr Phil, he’s the best. His books really make you sit back; he really says it how it is. It really made me see my role in a lot of the things Eddie did, the way I reacted to him when he did drink. If I changed things like that, then the way he reacts to me is going to be different. Even with the kids as well, I’m changing a lot of things there. I’ve done parenting courses and stuff like that. So it’s pretty much just reaching out and grabbing every resource available, and it’s getting me there.” Given the complexities of her own experience, Anthea feels qualified to offer advice to other women subject to domestic violence. “I would tell other women, ‘Don’t try to do it on your own’. I didn’t know about a lot of the stuff that was out there. I guess it takes time to figure that out. If there was one place you could go – I guess Blue Gum has done that for me – that would be easier. You go to one place and they tell you a few

places you can go, and it sort of branches out. But a lot of the time people don’t want to talk about it, don’t want to talk about domestic violence if something happens. Probably now it’s in every second house in the street, I reckon.” Anthea continues, “I’m not talking about just physical violence, but I haven’t lived on a street where I haven’t heard a domestic going on. I guess you might expect it in relationships where there are two addicted people. But even my mother and father, even though he’s never been physical with her, she’s a wreck now. She’s fifty-four. She’s a wreck from living with stress for her whole life.” The reality that controlling behaviour, and not solely physical assault, constitutes domestic violence resonates with Anthea. “It was Eddie’s insults that hurt the most. Because they stick in your head, you hear that, and it keeps repeating. Bruises aren’t as bad, it’s just like being in a fight. Once you’ve healed you don’t think about it. But the other stuff is harder to get over.” Referring to her experiences as a student nurse, Anthea comments, “I guess I’m lucky. I’ve seen women come into Emergency beaten up with black eyes. I’m lucky that it never got to that point.” As detailed earlier, Anthea is determined to complete her nursing studies. At Catherine’s suggestion she is contemplating a future role that may allow her to work with other survivors of violence. “In our practicals”, says Anthea, “we weren’t allowed to work in rehab, I guess because it’s too dangerous, but I wouldn’t mind it. I did talk to a few people when I was doing my practicals. I think they felt more comfortable with me. They told me a lot of things that weren’t in the notes.” “One lady from the mountains”, Anthea recalls, “had been through a horrible life. She was living in housing and these guys moved in and raped her. She had been raped, and bashed; raped and beaten in parks. She was about thirty. She confessed to me that she had been molested and everything when she was younger. These are things that weren’t in the medical notes. They never put them in the notes. It’s not something to do with her condition.” Anthea says her experiences give her a great deal of empathy for other women. “Even though I’ve been through it myself, I still feel sorry for other people. If I saw somebody having a domestic, I would be the first one to jump in. I guess that is a way for it to help me as a nurse as well. What I’ve been through sort of helps me.” Catherine feels Anthea would be extremely adept at “working with new mothers from disadvantaged areas. I think she has a calmness and intelligence about her that is very important.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

The reason people confided in her in the hospital is because of that. She is non-judgemental and very approachable.” Despite her harrowing experiences, Anthea does not regret what she has been through. “In a way, because my spirituality is coming back, I think I went through it for some reason. I took it that God meant for me to go through something like that. There must be some purpose to everything. It’s the same with my kids as well; me being molested. I had a girl first – and a lot of the young people I have spoken to have had a girl first – and I think it’s to maybe teach you how to protect them. I never let her sleep anywhere. I would never let what happened to me happen to her. I just feel like everything has a purpose, and it’s better to look at it that way than to sit and feel sorry for yourself.” While she feels her emotional and spiritual wellbeing is improving, Anthea is daunted by some of the practical dilemmas she faces concerning day-to-day issues. “Now I’m just waiting”, she says. “I’ve looked at private renting but it’s just too expensive. Even out where I’m from, the average house is around $280.”

Interagency cooperation is an important consideration for Catherine. “We simply have to work with the other agencies. There’s not one agency that can do all. That’s why I’m convinced a facility like a drop-in centre would help us build stronger links. At a drop-in they provide you with afternoon tea and you sit and talk and do activities and so on for people who are alone in the community. And it’s got to be warm. Considering the terribly cold weather we have in Katoomba, you need somewhere to go that’s warm; a welcoming place where people can be reminded that they don’t have to go it alone.”

Anthea’s Story

Anthea continues, “Someone in full-time work couldn’t afford those rents. Anyway, I’m still paying off debts so I’m just concentrating on that at the moment. I’m taking the cheap rent while I’ve got it. When I can, I’ll seek a transfer down there and finish my course, and then my parents can help with the kids. I’ll also be closer to my friend I’ve got in contact with. It’s too far to go now, but down that way I’ll have more contacts and feel more comfortable.”

“We can’t go it alone”, says Catherine. “I have a lot to do with Captain Colin from the Salvos, for instance. I was also up at the Wimlah Refuge yesterday. Vinnies assist them with furniture and that sort of stuff, and they are coming to the social justice forum Vinnies are having at Blackheath.”

Catherine is confident that Anthea will achieve her goals. “Anthea did make an impression when she first came into Vinnies”, says Catherine. “She was remarkably articulate and was able to tell me in very few words where she had come from. At the time I was thinking ‘this person will be able to manage’, but it was something that was playing at the back of my mind. I was hoping she was going to be all right.” Catherine continues, “Anthea gave me her mobile number which, for some reason or other, I wrote into my diary. Every now and then her name would come past me, and I would think, ‘I wonder how that girl is going.’ It’s wonderful for us at Vinnies to see somebody succeed like Anthea. It’s been a real boost because we see so many fall by the wayside.” Anthea comments that she is not always so composed. “The last time I came into see Catherine I was crying.” However, Catherine reminds her she has “come such a long way.” Catherine is keen to mention that Anthea’s recognition that she ‘can’t go it alone’ is similar to the approach organisations like the St Vincent de Paul Society have adopted in the Katoomba region.

7 tony

ony currently lives in the upper-mountains town of Blackheath. Aged fifty-two, he explains how he first came to the attention of the St Vincent de Paul Society.

“It was about three or four years ago. I just came in to the Katoomba store and introduced myself one day. I had just shifted up here from Sydney; just gotten off the streets.” Having experienced primary homelessness in inner city Sydney for a period of about two-and-a-half years, Tony recounts the series of events that brought him to the Katoomba region. “I wanted to sort of get off the streets. I was going to get a place at Maroubra but it didn’t work out. Then I got some help from The Station down in the city, they help out with homeless people.17 They helped me get a place up here”. Tony continues, “I got some references from a good friend of mine who works at JP Morgan and then I came up here and plonked myself on Vinnies doorstep one day and said, ‘I need some help with some food’, and they said, ‘How long have you been up here?’ and I said, ‘Not even a week.’ Then Vinnies provided their assistance to me and set up house for me.”

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Former Blue Mountains Regional President Catherine, who is Tony’s primary point of contact with the St Vincent de Paul Society comments that although Tony had been assisted into accommodation in a basement flat in Blackheath, the premises came without any furnishings. “He had nothing in the way of food, utensils or furniture”. Tony concurs, “I walked up here with a backpack and a sleeping bag, and that was it. These two loving people set up house for me”, he adds, referring to Catherine and fellow St Vincent de Paul Society member John. As is the case now, Tony’s source of income was Newstart.18 He comments that his current financial situation is strained. “I’m paying a lot more rent now, and my child support has gone right up again”. On the topic of children, Tony says he has two, a twentyseven year old and a thirteen year-old. He comments that his child support for his youngest child “has gone up”, adding that “they changed the laws around”. Tony says his relationship with his children has been interrupted. “I’ve had no contact with either of them for the last eight years because of extenuating circumstances”.

“I had a gambling addiction to pokies. That’s what led to it”, says Tony. He recounts that his predicament was extraordinarily damaging to his relationship with his family. The deteriorating situation caused him pronounced emotional trauma. “At one point I tried to kill myself”.

Tony’s Story

On the topic of “extenuating circumstances”, Tony goes on to explain how he feels family breakdown was one of the reasons he became homeless.

Tony sees his gambling addiction as something that developed from simple motivations. “The only reason I did it was that I wanted to make a little bit more money. I’m a welder by trade, but I wanted that little bit of extra money to keep myself going for the fortnight, but it doesn’t work out. The situation got worse and worse and worse.” While he is unclear as to the specifics of his transition onto the streets, Tony offers a lucid account of the experience of homelessness. He says loneliness is one of the hardest things to deal with. “You’re very much alone. It’s so hard.” Discussing the circumstances of many of his friends who remain homeless, Tony emphasises how many use substances to manage overwhelming feelings of isolation. “They’ve got alcohol. That keeps them company. Their drugs keep them company. That puts them out of the situation of reality all the time. Once they’ve got those two combinations they feel all right. When they’ve got none, they sort of start

to get upset about it and don’t know how to deal with reality any more.” Referring to his ongoing contact with his homeless friends, Tony says, “I’m just there for comfort and encouragement to talk.” Although Blackheath’s distance from Sydney (approximately 2 hours by train) makes keeping in touch with his friends difficult, Tony says that the space this affords him is necessary. He feels that he would have been unable to make a “clean break” from homelessness without this distance. “I wanted somewhere that was away from the pollution and all that in Sydney. And also I maintain contact with the people that live on the streets at the same time. I stayed in the city last night. They gave me a blanket, I was alright. A lot of guys sleep around the Supreme Court and I was staying there last night.” Regarding the level of support available to homeless persons in the inner-city area, Tony says there is a high awareness of services like Vinnies Night Patrol and Mission Beat. He adds people use these services “all the time, seven nights a week.” Tony notes that it is important that these types of services come directly to locations commonly occupied by homeless persons, such as Martin Place. He expressed disappointment that, in his opinion the 2008 World Youth Day celebrations temporarily undermined the benefits these mobile services bring. The homeless people he is in regular contact with were upset that the services were “taken away from the regular meeting spots, and they had to walk all the way down towards The Rocks. Some of them have to go two or three kilometres, and they were not happy about that because access to Martin Place was cut off.” Tony urges authorities planning events of this nature to “consider the homeless. I know the Catholic youth were here to do their thing, but there should be consideration for others, and the fact that they were taken away from their comfort zone.” Lack of consideration and understanding is an issue Tony identifies as having a negative impact on the homeless population. The question of a person’s right to be in a public space is a matter of particular concern. As a vendor for the publication The Big Issue,19 Tony seeks to use his contact with the public to raise awareness about social justice. “While I’m doing The Big Issue I try to tell as many people as I can that this is what the situation is all about. I try to open their minds up, to care for these guys who are going through a really rough time. We all carry baggage with us. These guys don’t know how to deal with the baggage. I’m just making the general public aware, through working with The Big Issue, about what’s going on.”

Tony sees lack of public awareness as one of the major barriers to overcoming homelessness. Most people, he says, “don’t understand the situation unless they’ve placed themselves in it, particularly if they just took on a counselling role or just tried to study it. I sort of just went out there. I didn’t want to be homeless. I decided to be homeless because I wanted to get to know these people; I wanted to understand what they were going through. That’s why I went and did it. The situation developed in a way that led to me falling into their curve. And I said, ‘No, I’m not going to have this. I want to get myself off the streets.’ But I want to understand what they’re going through.” Turning to his current situation, Tony feels that his circumstances have improved. Much of this he attributes to his independence. “I’m not going through any government agency; it’s private rent. I call Blackheath my home. I’ve got a place where I can come to every night if I want to and I can basically make my own decision as to whether I want to stay down in Sydney for the night or basically hop on the train and come back home. The guys who’ve got government housing, community housing, are basically still homeless because they haven’t got their own place and are still relying on subsidy from the Government or the community, just generally the Department of Housing. Although emphasising the importance of securing independent housing, Tony recognises the challenges currently associated with the private rental market. “My place is not cheap; $165 a week.”20 Catherine adds that Tony’s electricity is included in the rent. “Tony’s place is small but it’s nice. It’s got heating and hot water. He’s got a neat little kitchen. It’s a one bedroom, but it’s nice, and it’s on the ground floor and leads straight out on to the garden, out into the bush.” On the topic of his interests, Tony says he has a lot to do in his spare time. “If I’m not writing my journal, I like to read.” Writing plays a critical part in Tony’s life. “I always write down what I’m doing every day.” It is a vocation he maintained even during his homelessness. “I was just writing poems and stuff. I try to write songs. I like to sing.” Tony recently had a poem published in The Big Issue. He sees the publication as having a positive influence on the lives of homeless persons. The magazine, he explains, “helps people who are homeless. It gives them a sense of being felt wanted, gives them confidence to try to get back into the workforce. Being a vendor of The Big Issue is mainly for the homeless, the

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

long-term unemployed and people who’ve got mental disabilities.” Homeless persons, says Tony, get a lot out of selling the magazine. “They meet the public, gain confidence, and also make a good income, making extra money on the side. With us here in Australia, they don’t declare their income, because once they do, they find their sales will go down, and they’ll say, ‘Right, we have to declare an income, taxation orders.’ It’s different to what they do in England.” Moving on from the topic of The Big Issue, Tony turns to some of the worst characteristics he has seen in people during his experience of homelessness. “Some of the guys, words could not describe they way they react to certain situations. They just go off, because they’re hanging out for their drugs or their alcohol. Some of them have substance DTs first thing in the morning and they’ve got to bother their mates for something to settle their nerves down a bit.21 In certain situations, they just go off at the snap of a finger, and I just find that so wrong, because I’ve seen human beings hurt each other and there’s no need for it.”

“We’ve had situations down in the city, where we have people who have come here from the suburbs with the attitude, ‘let’s go and bash a homeless person tonight’. It happens all the time. I don’t like to pick out ethnic groups, but some groups are more commonly involved in this kind of violence than others. It’s shocking.”

Tony’s Story

Regarding the extraordinarily high proportion of assault perpetrated on homeless persons, Tony concurs with estimates that nearly all homeless persons have been the victim of or witnessed serious assault.

Tony continues, “All these youths say, ‘Let’s go and bash someone’, so they pick on a homeless person. I actually had a confrontation one night, a couple of years ago, during the Christmas break and there was a concert on over in the Domain, and a group of youths started slinging off at all the homeless people. So I spoke up and said, ‘Hey, understand the situation. These guys are carrying problems. You understand. You may end up like that.’ I was using reverse psychology on them. And they just shut up and said, ‘Oh.’ I always tell people, ‘Put yourselves in their shoes. What would you do?’” While Tony is keen to foster empathy among the general public, he stresses that the actual experience of homelessness is not something that can be felt second-hand. “There are people with church organisations who will go out and ‘experience’ a night of homelessness, but that’s not being homeless. Spend two or three months on the streets with these people and you will understand the situation.”

Tony adds, “Organisations like Hope Street and Rough Edges and all that – they do good work but a lot of them just spend a night on the streets and they don’t understand the situation. They send all these young kids out, l4 and 15 and 16. There’s one group in Sydney, the Egyptian Coptic Church, they come out every Wednesday night, bring food and stay with all the drunks. They get slagged off all the time, but they’ve always got a big smile on their face and keep coming back. They’ve been doing it now for five or six years.” Communication throughout the homeless community of Sydney is typically fluid and open. When a recent conversation with a Vinnies Night Patrol regular is discussed, Tony instantly recognises the individual in question. “That’s Ryan! I know Ryan. Last week he was rapt because he won a lot of money on the pokies. Twelve grand! He spent $50 and got the jackpot. That’s the problem with all the guys on the street. They’re not secure, they’re lonely, and they are just trying to get themselves out of the situation but don’t know how to.” While, as indicated previously, Tony acknowledges the efforts of certain organisations in addressing homelessness, he argues a range of deficiencies prevent positive change. Many of his criticisms centre upon issues of access and communication. “There are not enough government agencies. They expect the clients to come to them and it’s supposed to be the other way around. Government are supposed to go out and help them; that’s the way it should be. But people don’t understand the situation. They don’t know how to approach the individual.

You’ve got to be in tune with what homelessness is all about, get to know the person and start to help them.” In addition to identifying perceived problems in current approaches to homelessness, Tony’s time on the streets alerted him to significant changes in the homeless persons demographic. He observes a greater number of homeless youths on the streets now than in previous years. This is despite data from the ABS signalling a reduction in this age group. Tony suggests that under-counting of homeless youths is a consequence of their reluctance to come forward and access services. Discussing the reasons behind the low profile adopted by many homeless youths, Tony suggests it is a consequence of the hierarchical nature of the population. “I think young people feel intimated, that there’s one class of homelessness and there’s another class and another class.” Tony observes that many youths retreat from associating with other homeless persons because “they come from abused situations, abused backgrounds, and they are scared that they might be abused again, and they feel that adults cannot be trusted.” Given the perceived fissures and gaps in the relationship between certain younger homeless coteries and particular homeless services, Tony feels there may be a mentoring role for suitable formerly homeless persons to play. “If a person is willing to turn his whole lifestyle around and do the right thing and say, ‘I want to try to help my fellow man’, especially among the homeless, it’s an opportunity to

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Tony’s comments regarding the possible practical benefits of camaraderie among the homeless population lead him to recount particular acts of goodwill he has encountered on the streets. “I saw a really kind act only last week. Nan, she’s about 75, and lives on the streets. I don’t know how much money she had in her bag but she took it all and just gave it to a beggar. I saw it across from where I was working last Wednesday down in George Street. There are a lot of old women like Nan coming on to the streets lately. I don’t know why. Nan has been on the streets for – I don’t know – fifteen years. She can handle herself quite well. She’s got a beautiful, quiet personality.” The generosity and compassion Tony has witnessed is not limited to characters like Nan. “I’ve seen other guys who just go out of their way to help. Even though they’re really damaged and hurt, they’ve still got a heart of gold on them. They will take their shirt off their back if they have to.” Tony continues, “I see homeless people who are going out and helping other homeless people. They might have a place to stay and they will grab someone, like I did. I helped one of the guys who was on the streets, Eric. I brought him up to my place for three months. I said, ‘Come on, come and stay at my place for three months until you get a house.’ But then the Housing Department sort of mucks all these

guys around, and it goes on and on and on, and it’s just like beating your head against a wall sometimes.” Tony’s experience of government and departmental responses to homelessness has prompted him to advocate for a change in direction regarding policy. “Governments have got to change the way they do things”, says Tony, “because they’re never going to solve the homeless situation unless they start being more flexible instead of letting queues build up and up and up. Get it done quickly. If somebody is using meth, put in the action straight away.22 I hate all these people who go round and do nothing about it. I was hoping things would improve with the federal situation because Kevin Rudd’s wife is a patron for the homeless.23 I just hope she starts putting two and two together and puts in some action. Let’s get these people help.”

Tony’s Story

do something for them, too. It’s just a matter of talking to the guys, because you know who’s willing to help their fellow man and who’s not, especially ones who are quite intelligent and want to get out of the situation.”

Tony also hopes to see more recognition of the broader issues surrounding homelessness. “It’s not just about not having a home. Homelessness is also about mental health, because that’s where the main problem descends from. It’s mental health, alcohol – always mental health, because they don’t know what they’re doing in their minds. Mental health issues and drugs, that’s what causes homelessness.” For Tony, greater effort on the part of governments must be reciprocated by heightened self-awareness and less denial on the part of homeless persons. “Most people on the streets are reluctant to admit they’ve got a problem. I know this because I was a drug addict and an alcoholic. It wasn’t until coming over Christ-wise that I

started dealing with the situation. I said, ‘Look, I’m going to deal with these things.’” Tony says there are “many pathways off the streets” but he is convinced his religious faith played a considerable part in his personal transition away from homelessness. He thinks an “outside focus” can be a positive thing for many homeless persons. “For me, Christ is the only one who can heal the mind because He is the one who created the mind. He knows how to deal with the mind. Know Him and know He cares. I’m telling you the facts. I don’t care what religion you are, but I know what the message in The Bible is: Go to Christ. He’s the one who created the mind; he’ll deal with it. No human being can help people unless they’re willing to reach out and ask for help. Then God can use other people to encourage them at the same time.” Tony is convinced that his faith helped him overcome the despair and trauma of homelessness. His periodic visits to Sydney lead him to believe that the situation for homeless persons in the inner-city is deteriorating. “It’s getting worse and worse, the situation with drugs. The more drugs that come on the streets, the worse the situation is. There are different chemicals, they make up new chemicals, and they are destroyed inside the mind. They don’t know how to deal with it. No doubt they’ve eaten the brain away and they say they are destroying all these cells. You try to talk to someone about these drugs and say, ‘Hey, I’m just trying to help you.’” Despite his personal exposure to trauma, Tony does not regret the path his life has taken. In many ways he believes it has helped him process past events. “I’m glad I’ve gone through the experiences I have”, he says, “because it might stem from the fact that I was sexually abused by my stepfather from the time I was six, and that’s what happens. It destroyed me psychologically and for quite a long time I didn’t know what was what. I’ve tried suicide about 26, 27 times and not one of them has succeeded.” Asked whether having somebody to talk to may have helped, Tony says the attitudes and values that prevailed at the time of the abuse prevented him from getting help. “Back then in the sixties it was a taboo. You didn’t talk about those things. My sister was abused by the same person. She went to the police at the time and they just laughed at her. It’s only since the nineties and up until now that people have had open hearts and minds to talk about these things.” Tony says he feels particularly aggrieved by the perpetrator’s duplicity. “He was supposed to be a goody-goody Catholic.” This prevented Tony from telling his parish priest as he thought he would not be believed or supported. “I told my mum. She gave me a slap in the face and called me a liar. I’ve never ever spoken to her about it since.”

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Tony’s drug use rapidly escalated and he was soon using heroin. “I used to shoot up my arms with a snake gun. I was very heavy into drugs, especially alcohol. At one stage I was drinking a bottle of scotch a day.” The efforts Tony made to bring order to his life, learn a trade, get a job and build up some savings seemed undermined by the lack of love and respect he was shown as a child. Even fundamental life skills appeared beyond his grasp. “I really regret”, says Tony, “that I was never taught how to manage money financially, how to even save.” While he had training as a welder and was periodically able to maintain work, he felt the fundamentals were missing. He explains that his ability to make positive choices and his sense of judgement was constantly clouded by the abuse he sustained as a child. “I still have flashbacks all the time”, says Tony.

“I was listening to MySpace last night”, says Tony, “and there was a certain song, and it just brings back these memories. You wish you could change the situation but you can’t because what’s passed has passed. You’ve just got to get on with life and say, ‘I’ll just take one day at a time, and the next person you come in contact with, greet them with a smile and encourage them.’ It helps me to have an understanding so that I can understand what that person is going through, because a lot of people come up to me and open their hearts up. I don’t know why.”

Tony’s Story

The years following the abuse were very difficult for Tony. The resentment and hurt he felt severely undermined his selfesteem, leading him to self medicate “All I would do is two things – go out and have a good party time and get out of it. I got so much on the drugs I was totally separate from myself.”

Faced with comments about his remarkable lucidity and candour, Tony is circumspect. “I know I’ve been given a gift, and I love talking to people. It’s funny. Five years ago, I was the complete opposite of what I am now. I was so much of an introvert I could never talk to anyone; too scared to open up. When I started to deal with my own situation, I thought, ‘I’m going out to help people.’” Tony is convinced that telling his own story helps others. The process has also helped him to discover things about himself. “I’ve worked out a lot of things in my own life but didn’t realise I had a sense of humour until someone said, ‘Gee, you’ve got a good sense of humour’”.

Tony feels that no matter how stabilised he becomes, part of him will always remain damaged. “I’m still scarred. I’m still scarred inside.” For many people, Tony reflects, the experience of homelessness can be similar to the experience of someone who has been to war. “Different smells come back and remind you of things, different tastes and different sounds.”

Randle

orty-two year-old Randle came into the Katoomba Vinnies Centre after having spent several nights sleeping in his car. He had recently travelled down from northern NSW, yet had been unable to secure conventional accommodation since his arrival. Former Blue Mountains Regional President, Catherine was Randle’s primary point of contact with the St Vincent de Paul Society. She recounts their first meeting. “Randle had been sleeping for several nights in his car. He came into the Centre in the morning, and he’d had no breakfast. He was unaware that the Salvo’s run a breakfast service in town. The first thing I did was make him a cup of tea and toast. Then we got him in front of the heater and sat down and had a chat.” Catherine continues, “Having assessed Randle’s situation, we arranged temporary accommodation for him at rooms we share with other agencies above a local hotel. He needed to have a shower and get warm. Winter in Katoomba is not the time to be sleeping in your car.” Randle takes up is story. “Before coming to Katoomba, I’d moved around, I’d been up north, Mt Isa, and around a bit. I was trying to get a better life but it didn’t work out; so, slowly I worked my way down here.” “I’d been sleeping in my car on the way down because I didn’t have much money on me. I came to Katoomba because I used to live here, a while back, for about twelve months. I

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

lived just down the road and was paying rent, but everything just went down a hole.”

Despite the challenges of his current situation, Randle is glad that, for now, he does not have to sleep in his car. “Sleeping in the car is terrible”, he says. “You’re just tossing and turning all night and you don’t know who’s out there. You’ve got to be careful where you pull up. I try to go down side tracks.”

Randle’s Story

Having stayed at the pub accommodation Catherine arranged for him for a period of about a week, Randle commented, “the situation’s getting worse in town. There’s more homeless guys here now than before. It’s not good.”

Randle says he would not have chosen to live in his car but he felt he had no other options. “I got into a bit of trouble up north, you know, mentally; I had hassles up there. I’d been seeing the doctor, but I wasn’t taking the medication, you know.” Returning to a relatively familiar area does not appear to have significantly improved Randle’s state of mind. “I feel depressed”, he says. “Everything’s falling in a heap. I haven’t got any direction. Catherine listens and gives me good advice, but I can only take it one day at a time at the moment.” When Randle first arrived at the Vinnies Centre Catherine discovered he had run out of his prescription medication; she arranged an appointment with a local doctor. “It’s hard”, says Randle. “I had a good doctor I saw up the coast, he understood me. Every time I go to someone new I’ve got

to explain the whole thing over. I’ve been trying to ring my doctor. He knows my situation.” Randle continues. “I was seeing a psychologist. I’m on a few different tablets now, one is to make me sleep and another one is to make me… make me sort of feel alright. I’ve been on them for about four months. The doctor said it can take that long before they actually start working so I guess I’ll have to wait.” Mentally, Randle is convinced the time he spent in his car has exacerbated his condition. “It’s not good in the car, you feel frightened, you know, on edge all the time. That’s not good for you when you’re already not feeling well. That’s why things went, you know, further and further off track with me.”

“All I know”, says Randle, “is that you can’t tell family, because, one tells one and then that one tells the other and so on and so on, and they all get talking about you and you just get pushed back down again. It’s like one of them will say, ‘I heard this’, or ‘I heard that about you’ and all of a sudden you’re back down the pile again. I mean they go on like this and then they wonder why I don’t tell them anything! It’s a no-win situation.”

Concerned about Randle’s depression and anxiety, Catherine arranged to accompany him on an appointment with the local area mental health centre. “It’s not good”, says Catherine. “I think Randle has gone downhill. He was cold, hungry and tired when I first met him, but now he’s really struggling emotionally, mentally.”

In the long-term Randle wants to find enough stability in his life to return to work. “I want to go and work. I’m not trained at anything. I’m a labourer and I’d like to work, but at the moment I’m so burnt out mentally I’d be a wreck after just a few hours. I wouldn’t be able to keep the boss happy, and I don’t like that.”

“I’m glad to be here”, says Randle, “because there were a lot of times I thought I just couldn’t cope. I’ve got things going on in my head, you know, it’s hard with other people around. I need to get back on my feet before I can make any decisions.”

Randle explains that he has been without his medication for “nearly a week.” Lack of treatment sees the worst of his symptoms return. “I find it hard to get out of bed in the morning”, says Randle. “I can’t get started, and I definitely don’t want to see anyone. I can’t handle people when I feel like that.”

Connecting with others seems to be a difficult prospect for Randle. “I don’t have any friends. I don’t talk to my family. It’s not easy, I feel pretty crappy at the moment. I can’t work myself out so, you know, they’re not going to try and work me out.”

Randle continues, “I got here on my own, and I think I want to get time sit back and think on my own, but stuff goes through your head and you think, ‘well, I’ve got to talk to someone’. I don’t know who that ‘someone’ is. I know it can’t be family, because they’ve got their own problems. I don’t know. It’s hard.”

Catherine explains how she and Captain Colin, who runs the Salvation Army Breakfast Service, had noticed Randle’s absence over the last few days. They were both very worried,

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

I know he’s not going to hurt her so I’ve got no problems there. I’ve never met the bloke but I’ve been told he’s okay, so I don’t have to worry about that.”

Randle recognises he needs to reconnect with others; however, he also aware of his personal preference for time on his own. “I need to have my quiet time, you know, time to get myself together. I need space to just sit there and think, but I know everybody just thinks I’m negative – I don’t know – but I’m not.”

Regarding his long-term plans, Randle is very direct. “All I want to do is get back on track. That’s all I can do, you know, keep trying.”

Randle reflects on his circumstance immediately prior to coming to Katoomba. “I was on the far north coast. I was living in a caravan park up there. The caravan park itself was good but some of the people can be a bit obnoxious.”

Randle’s Story

as they were aware that Randle was having trouble “getting started” in the morning. These shared concerns prompted Catherine to contact Randle and check on his welfare.

Regarding his fellow caravan park residents, Randle says, “I didn’t associate with them, but you could always hear them. A lot of them wouldn’t wind-up whatever they were doing until three o’clock in the morning. That makes it hard. I was living up there for about eight months. I didn’t really mind it, but I was just feeling worse and worse in my head. You know, it became time to move. I thought it would be alright but it didn’t turn out that way.” For various reasons Randle has moved around quite a lot in the last few years yet he expresses a strong desire for stability. “I’d like to settle down somewhere. I’ve got two kids, with two different mums, one’s eighteen and the other is twenty-one, but I don’t see them.” “Sometimes I think I’d like to see them but I know they’re safe and well. My daughter has a good step father so that helps.

Megan

egan is in her early thirties. She came to the attention of the St Vincent de Paul Society approximately six years ago after experiencing domestic violence and homelessness. Megan chose to relay her experiences through former Blue Mountains Regional President Catherine, as she is still managing trust and safety issues associated with her recovery and is unwilling to talk to men she does not know.

“Megan lived in Sydney”, says Catherine. “She’s an Indigenous woman and she is married to a white man. They had a son and her husband was fairly violent. She ended up in hospital a number of times. Megan says she would have remained with him except that he started to beat her son so she decided that she had to leave. It didn’t seem to matter when she was the victim, but when her son became the victim, then she decided she had to leave. She had heard about the Wimlah Refuge here in Katoomba.” Catherine continues, “Megan heard about the refuge from Sydney. It wasn’t through an Indigenous network or anything like that, she says just knew there was this refuge in the mountains. When her husband went to work one day she just

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

packed her and her son up and came straight up to Wimlah. The staff there had arranged for her to be admitted.” “Megan had called Wimlah”, says Catherine. “She had an arrangement with them that when there was a free space at the refuge, she would come up at a moment’s notice.” Catherine continues, “Megan’s been living in Katoomba now for six years and she was in the refuge for a couple of months. She is a very strong woman and she didn’t go through what I would call the normal processes of transition from refuge to private housing. She went straight into a Wentworth Housing place. That’s the housing authority that we have up here. That was no problem. She wasn’t far from the St Vincent de Paul Society. That’s how I came across her in the first place, because she would walk up to the Vinnies Centre.” Despite her remarkable achievements, Catherine comments that Megan’s stability is constantly compromised by her housing situation. “She is a very good woman, very hard working, but the problem with the private rental market up here is that houses are always being sold. At one stage, she was forced to move three times in a little over twelve months.” According to Catherine, lack of stable affordable housing is a “constant problem” in the Katoomba area. As she explains, “Marginalised people are constantly forced to keep moving. Every time they move it costs them money, and they have to re-establish themselves in a property with curtains, furniture and all manner of set-up costs.”

Regarding Megan’s level of social interaction, Catherine observes, “She has very little contact with the Indigenous community up here. There are quite a few organisations up here that are part of the Indigenous Support Network, but she is not part of that. It’s almost as if she has lost her identity – she has a tribal identity, she comes from Central Western NSW, so she has that tribal identity. She doesn’t come from the Dharug or Cadigal like the majority of people up here.”

“Megan comes into Vinnies on a monthly basis”, says Catherine. “She makes a fair bit of use of our services. She’s not embarrassed about accessing them but you need to treat her fairly carefully. Because of what she’s been through she’s sensitive and she’s actually very wary around men.” Catherine continues, “While she happily agreed to be part of the research being conducted in Katoomba, she said to me, ‘I’m not going to speak to a man. I’m not speaking to him.’ Suddenly she was that vulnerable homeless woman again, not the tough, strong Megan that I know.” Catherine acknowledges that it can be very difficult for a person who has experienced trauma to have to constantly retell their story. “Understandably, they don’t want to visit ‘that place’ again. Normally when I get people coming into the office, I write a notation on their card saying that this person has told their story. I state that they have told their story, they are genuinely in need, and we do not ask them about what’s put them here. I’ve heard it; nobody else needs to make them go over it again. If people want to ask a question, they can ask me. I have a very good memory and I can remember way back ten years. I know the stories of the people but I’m very conscious of the problem that can be associated with the telling of the story. It can be very fatiguing emotionally.”

Megan’s Story

Returning to Megan, Catherine says her housing situation has improved. “She has been settled down the street for about two and a half years, she is very happy there and she pays her rent. There’s no problem about that. Her son is at a local high school and he’s doing very well. He’s just finishing year 10.”

Catherine comments that Megan is not currently employed. “I would like to get her involved in some of the voluntary work here at Vinnies, like working in Foodbank or something like that. I think that because of her circumstances – and this is something we encounter quite often with women who have experienced domestic violence – they become house-bound. Home is their safe space. And that safe space becomes so sacred that they really don’t want to become too involved in anything. Even though they say they’re not frightened, there appears to be an underlying fear of stepping out into a community where you could be vulnerable again, and they don’t want to be vulnerable again.”

Catherine continues, “Megan is one of the Dubbo-Wellington group. So she doesn’t have contact with her major tribal community. This doesn’t seem to worry her. I have asked her about the loss of tribal identity with her son, and she said, ‘No, he sees himself as just another person, an ordinary person’. In many ways, I think that is the way she sees herself, as a woman first, a woman living in Katoomba, and second, as a woman with a son. All the other things are much further down the line. That’s the way she is.”

malcolm

alcolm, a long-term resident of Katoomba, is in his late fifties. He is deaf and mute. About two years ago Michael came to the Katoomba Vinnies Centre when he became homeless. His bank had foreclosed on his mortgage and he had lost his house. Communicating through an AUSLAN interpreter, Malcolm retraces events leading up to his initial contact with the St Vincent de Paul Society, beginning with feelings about Katoomba.24 “I love the area. I’ve been here over seventeen years and it’s my life. I can’t stand going down to Sydney. Katoomba’s a very spiritual area. I’m really interested in the people and the diversity here and the contacts here.” Malcolm says that his homelessness was precipitated by an incident of abuse, compounded by his loss of employment. “I had four jobs. I was driving, I was cleaning, I was interpreting for deaf and blind people, and I was caring for deaf children. One woman I was working for became really arrogant to me. She assaulted me and I had injuries around my ribs. I was in pain. The children I was caring for were both deaf. It was really challenging, but I was very determined to go on. But the situation really brought me down. I became so down; I didn’t feel I could work. I really changed.”

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

Malcolm’s inability to continue working required an urgent reassessment of his finances. As he explains; “I thought, ‘How can I pay for my home loan’. So I tried to tell the bank, tried to set up a meeting. I went into my branch and said, ‘Get an interpreter for me’, but they continually refused, three times. It costs them $500 a person to have an interpreter. I didn’t know that at the time. I kept at them and at them and they refused three times. I know that it’s the law, they must provide an interpreter, but they refused.” With the bank unwilling to arrange an interpreter, nor meet with Malcolm, he could not renegotiate his loan repayment schedule. “I tried. I asked, ‘What do I do, how can you help me?’ The bank said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not our business’. I told them, ‘I’ve got post-traumatic stress disorder’, because of the assault. I told them, ‘I don’t want to lose my house, I would like communication.’ But they didn’t care, they weren’t involved.” The bank did not respond to Malcolm’s requests to negotiate, instead, as he recounts, “They posted letters; $700-a-day charges for a solicitor. I received continual letters. At the very end, in November 2006, it was the 18th I remember; they said, ‘Please leave the house now.’ I just gave away all my things. They were worth $200,000. It’s all gone. My animals are all gone. They took my stuff and sold my house.” Malcolm felt devastated by the loss of his house. “It broke my heart how they treated me. Everything was gone, my animals were gone. I had big land, beautiful trees. It was down in the valley. There was a creek at the bottom. It was really beautiful. I lived there for fourteen years and I loved it there.”

Regarding his understanding of ‘level 4’, Malcolm believes it means, “I can’t stand to be around people. I like to be isolated and alone. If I meet somebody, for example, Catherine, I just feel like, ‘Back off, back off’, and I really need to get out.”

Malcolm’s Story

“Losing the house”, says Michael, “just blew my mind. I went to a psychiatrist and he found out I had post-traumatic stress disorder. I said, ‘What does that mean?’ I had never heard of that before, and I tried to ask what it means. It means you have depression. There wasn’t a lot of information so I went to the library and found a book. It was a lot about posttraumatic stress disorder and that’s what I have. I read a lot about the topic. Post-traumatic stress disorder comes from World War I and World War II. I have done a lot of reading. Also there are different levels. My level is level 4.”

Discussing his friendship with Catherine, Malcolm says, “when I first met her, she seemed arrogant, and I thought ‘Oh’ and we just didn’t click. We’ve both become patient and we’re used to each other. Now she’s wonderful to me and it’s really good. I had lost everything, I was on the street and she kept telling me what to do, but now I’m used to that. So I would really like to say ‘Thank you, Catherine, you’re wonderful. You worked very hard at finding things for me.’”

Malcolm says the initial difficulty he had in relating to Catherine is something he encounters often. “I know that at first she was really frustrated with me, the communication problem. She is a lovely woman but now I realise she is a really strong woman as well. She makes me very determined to be a strong man. She has really helped me develop with my posttraumatic stress disorder. She has helped me build myself up. I was very down.” Malcolm continues, “With my dog, Catherine has really helped me a lot. The psychiatrist said it was great for me to have a dog to help me with my mind, to calm me down and keep me focused. Catherine tells me things; ‘I can look after him’. When I was on my own I had lost everything, I was alone.” Communication barriers and Malcolm’s PTSD can make social interaction a challenge. As he explains, “Now I live in a unit, a Department of Housing unit downstairs. Just recently a neighbour was at me about my dog, about my dog barking. I have tried to train it and everything. When I am shopping I can’t take the dog in there so I need to leave the dog. I know it barks but I try to leave it for a short time. The neighbour told me, ‘You and that dog get out!’ He was really aggressive towards me. He said, ‘I am sick and tired of your dog barking.’ I said, ‘What’s going on?’ The people opposite were nice, and they explained, ‘Yes, it barks all the time and it is very loud. It has become worse because it frets when I’m not around.” Given his professed love of animals and his difficulties in communicating with people, Malcolm’s dog is clearly very important to him. His neighbour’s complaints are a source of significant distress. “He’s very aggressive. When I look at him he sounds like he’s the landlord of the whole of the units. He is just arrogant to everybody. He says, ‘I know you’ve got a dog in the unit’. And I say, ‘it’s none of your business’. That’s why he’s contacted the Department of Housing on me. When he was aggressive I ended up with diarrhoea and everything for weeks, and I still had a bit yesterday, just nerves and everything. I don’t know what to do because I have got a meeting with the Department of Housing on Friday and I don’t know what they are going to do about the carpet being damaged because of my dog.” “I need my dog”, says Malcolm. “I have told my neighbours it is only a puppy. They think it’s an adult dog; it isn’t. It is only ten months old. It’s still learning. I’m trying to teach it. I had one previously and it got killed. I gave it to my friends to care for and a car ran it over and it broke my heart. I was going through the loss of losing my house. Then my dog was killed, my chickens were gone, my fish were gone, the birds. Oh, it was terrible.” “Now I live in a unit”, Malcolm continues, “the psychiatrist said it was better for me to have a dog, so I know when people are knocking at the door. It was my decision to pick the same

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

breed again. I know that they learn fast. His behaviour is very good. I have told him all of my problems and everything so I can’t throw him away.”

renegotiate his loan, yet was let down. He is very emphatic in his reluctance to “play the game again”, and feels disconnected from mainstream society.

Describing his first contact with the St Vincent de Paul Society, Malcolm is circumspect. “Firstly, really I was disappointed. I hoped that they would have some money to help, to help pay for the loan. Then I could have paid them back, but they didn’t have that. I wished that I could have saved my home because if I had saved my home I think that my posttraumatic stress disorder would have been greatly reduced, but Vinnies didn’t have that capacity and I understand that. Vinnies only helps people who are in other situations who need different support and I do understand that; but, I was on the street.”

He breaks from recounting his story and resolutely signs: “I do not belong in your hearing world.”

After Malcolm’s first interview at Vinnies, former Regional President Catherine and her colleague John arranged temporary accommodation for him. As Malcolm recalls, “I had to stay in a hotel, in a hostel. It was very expensive for Vinnies, so they wanted to transfer me to Granville. Catherine said to me, ‘It’s really good, we have found something’, and I said, ‘No, I don’t want to go. I grew up there. It’s a horrible area.’ I didn’t want to go back to the Granville area. I know what it’s like. I didn’t want to go back there and she went, ‘Well, it’s up to you. If that’s the case, I can’t support you.’ And I said, ‘I’m going to stay here.’ I just felt like telling her, ‘leave me alone.’ Then we found the Department of Housing unit I’m in now.”

Malcolm continues, “People never think about people being deaf. Many people, when you buy things and you’ve got to ask them something and they say, ‘Are you deaf?’ I want to tell them, ‘You’ve got to look at me. I’m a normal person. I look normal but I am deaf.’ Now I have two disabilities – I am deaf, and I have post-traumatic stress disorder. That is what the psychiatrist has told me.”

While Malcolm seems pleased that he has been able to stay in Katoomba, he is clearly disappointed with his present housing situation. “I had to take the unit, but unfortunately the neighbour isn’t very good with me. He is still aggressive with me about the dog. I don’t like the unit. Because I am deaf, it just doesn’t work with me. On my floor there’s no veranda, there’s nowhere to smoke. I smoke one-and-a-half packets a day; I have become worse with smoking.”

Malcolm says that he has been advised that he is unable to return to work. “I will never go back to work. I can’t. I’ve lost everything. What’s the point of going back to work? What’s the point at my age? My psychiatrist told me, ‘No, it’s finished.’” Much of Malcolm’s sense of resignation stems from his belief that he “tried to do the right thing”, he attempted to

Malcolm is still stunned by the bank’s unwillingness to communicate with him. “Why did they refuse to get me an interpreter? I believe in the rules and they are right and you follow them, you follow the policies. And that’s why it makes me frustrated.” Subsequent attempts at communication, with a range of agencies, have produced similarly frustrating results. “I spoke to the Housing NSW two weeks ago”, says Catherine. “I explained Malcolm’s predicament and the fact that he would require an AUSLAN translator, and they replied ‘there’s no money for an AUSLAN translator’. I said to the officer, ‘That’s not fair. This man is a perfectly normal man; he just requires a different sort of translator’. If he was Vietnamese or Greek or another nationality, there would be a translator provided.” Catherine continues, “Every time I have contacted Housing NSW they have been very, very difficult. In the end they told me to stop ringing about Malcolm’s dilemma, and the bank said the same thing. The manager said, ‘I wish you would stop ringing us about Malcolm. You’re just a nuisance.’ Every government agency that you contact has absolutely no understanding of the problem of somebody who requires an AUSLAN translator. I spoke with those people at the bank and Housing NSW and they would still say when I rang up, ‘You can’t speak to us about Malcolm. He has to speak to us on the telephone.’ I would reply, ‘he can’t speak’. They just didn’t have any idea of what it was about.”

Malcolm’s Story

Malcolm feels that his physical health is deteriorating as a result of his PTSD. “I’m smoking more now because I feel stuck. When I had my house I would smoke only half a packet a day. I wouldn’t smoke more because I was working, I was busy. Back then I was also overweight, I was a bigger man. I was 120 kilos previously, now I have lost 40 kilos. I am less than 80 kilos now. I also used to eat three meals a day. Now I only eat one meal a day.”

Malcolm accepts that his pronounced change in attitude is a marked departure from his previously vital level of community engagement. “I was very assertive, very confident, very professional”, says Michael. “I had four jobs, I was involved with everything and then suddenly it all changed. I tried to negotiate with people. I felt like I was drowning. I asked people to help me. No-one cared. Everybody I asked did nothing. I’m just really fed up.”

Malcolm suspects that if there was more official acknowledgement and awareness of his range of abilities then many problems could have been averted. “When the

contact for my loan was drawn up, they didn’t record that I had a hearing impairment. The contract did not state that fact. If the contract had the option, I would have ticked that I was deaf and then they would know I was deaf, but they didn’t have anything there. Other places have it and I write that I am deaf, and now I have post-traumatic stress disorder as well. They should have it listed so you state your condition, even on a home loan. It’s really a bad thing.” Given the unwillingness of so many entities to communicate with him, Malcolm suspects many people perceive him as being unintelligent. “I think the most frustrating thing that I have experienced with Malcolm”, says Catherine, “is that in contacting government departments, not only do they not provide an AUSLAN translator, but they treat somebody who is deaf as though they are unintelligent.” Malcolm has faced this many times; “I have skills, I have talents. I have really good skills for a job, high level skills. I went and studied at university, I studied many different courses, passed all of them. Recently I learnt how to operate a forklift; I passed my forklift licence. I can see your hearing world, looking at me and putting me down. That’s wrong, I’ve got a brain and I am bright.” Malcolm recognises that sometimes communication takes time. “When I first met Catherine I realised we could write and build communication”. Malcolm, Catherine and John communicated via notes and gestures. As Malcolm explains, “She understood what I was talking about. John was the same; that was really good. Now I’m used to the people here at Vinnies I am quite calm and I come here quite regularly.” “Now I have a problem with my dog”, says Malcolm, “Catherine is supporting me again with the vet, with advice, about how to stop the barking, because I can’t hear it bark. I need someone who can hear. If they tell me, I can tell the dog to stop. It means I need the dog with me always. I’ll have to pay for a pram or something for him.” Despite the challenges he has endured, Malcolm remains resolute. “I have got a lot of barriers. I am very determined. I have to be determined because John always told me, ‘Please be strong, please be strong’. John is lovely; he is wonderful support with the dog. It was a bit slow at first. I didn’t have a lot of confidence when I first came into Vinnies. I had been really put down. My body and my mind are very sensitive, very, very sensitive, because of the post-traumatic stress disorder. I have tablets for it. I just want to stop the tablets. I really don’t want to take them, but I can’t.” Contemplating his future, Malcolm recalls the activities that used to bring him a sense of fulfilment and happiness. “I liked to breed goldfish. I was a keen gardener; I was propagating. I also had lots of ideas in the house, painting, you know, doing things. If you could have seen in my old home, it was just beautiful. When I first went in there it was very plain, and then I added everything and it was lovely. A lot of my

grandmother’s furniture was all through the house, and that’s all gone now. I couldn’t keep anything. I have only got the memory of my grandmother now she’s gone.” “My grandmother taught me”, says Malcolm. “In school they were hopeless. My parents were also hopeless, they didn’t understand. There was only one who taught me, and that was my grandmother. I used the money she gave to me when she died to buy the house, and now I have lost all that.” Malcolm feels as though the experiences of the past few years have eroded his sense of self-worth. “I was very well respected in the deaf community. My mother was a teacher; I am a teacher, I can teach; my grandmother was a teacher. I taught deaf students for fourteen years and I loved it. I loved teaching, planning lessons; a lot of my students went on to study at university or TAFE. I was a really proud man, proud of the achievement.” Feeling as though he has lost his sense of “place”, Malcolm regularly succumbs to despair. “There’s no hope in my future. Sometimes I wish I had died. The psychiatrist has saved me and I have sort of accepted that a little. I have no hope. Before I did; I was preparing for the future. I had aims, I had goals, I had hopes, but now I have lost everything. What’s the point?” Recognising his reaction may be difficult for those who have attempted to help him, Malcolm says, “I am so sorry. Catherine has tried so hard to help me. But the help she’s given has also helped her and she has learned a lot through the experience. She is just beautiful I believe that she is used to meeting many different people and she didn’t expect to meet someone like me. I was a challenge as a deaf person, plus having post-traumatic stress disorder. That creates a bit more of a conflict; and now she has worked out how to deal with it. She knows more about me now.” The St Vincent de Paul Society continues to closely monitor Malcolm’s situation. “What concerns John and myself”, says Catherine “is Malcolm’s isolation in the Katoomba community. We are not sure what companionship he has in the community apart from the people that he sees here, and this is something that really worries us, because it is so difficult for anyone to live without companionship.” Malcolm feels as though he is not ready for contact with others. “I love this country. If there was only one little thing I wished for, I would have wanted to have a hundred acres. It is really what I wish for in my mind, but where’s the money? Really I just want to be left alone.” “I did apply for a place of my own”, says Malcolm, “I went to Centrelink and applied for a transfer. I want a house where I can be alone. I don’t want people around me. I don’t want

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

that. I want a house on my own. The Department of Housing never respond; I send letters many times but they never reply. They are rude!” Malcolm feels that the failure of others to engage with him, at the bank, at Housing NSW, and a range of other agencies contributed substantially to his current situation. “I expected to be saved. I was confident. It was a huge shock to be told there would be no interpreter. I was really frustrated. A lot of hearing people are bastards. I’m not blaming Vinnies. I am really sorry. I’m just a very, very angry person at the moment.” In closing his discussion with Vinnies personnel, Malcolm strongly urged that the AUSLAN interpreter be acknowledged. “Please include the interpreter. I am deaf and it is proof that I am deaf.”

Malcolm’s Story 57

Wimlah T

he Wimlah Women and Children’s Refuge is located in the upper Blue Mountains. Part of the NSW Women’s Refuge Movement, ‘Wimlah’ (as it is most commonly referred) offers crisis accommodation for women and their children leaving situations of domestic violence. Last year fifty-five women with children were housed at Wimlah. Funded by the Department of Community Services, Wimlah is the sole women’s refuge in the Katoomba region. Accommodation at Wimlah comprises three, two-bedroom independent living units for families, and one shared unit with a capacity to house two women. Additional services Wimlah offers include housing support, court support, transportation, outreach, referrals and advocacy.25 Wimlah also facilitates women’s community groups; an after-school kids club; arts projects; and, supports women’s health awareness programs. The St Vincent de Paul Society’s close relationship with Wimlah typically takes the form of referrals, and the provision of clothing, household goods and essentials for women in refuge accommodation and those transitioning into supported off-site housing. The Society and other agencies such as the Salvation Army, Gunedoo Child Protection Service, and Blue Gum Women’s Housing maintain close and highly cooperative relationships with Wimlah, monitoring and supporting the welfare of women and children through multiple stages.

Over the past year Wimlah reported an increase in the number of women with complex needs in addition to their experiences of domestic violence and homelessness, including issues related to immigration, cultural, mental health, physical health, educational factors.26 Wimlah staff members Celia, a case worker, and Maree, an outreach worker offer their first-hand perspective of: the region’s domestic violence and homelessness trends; Katoomba’s interagency dynamics; and, integrated refuge and outreach service paradigms. Women accessing Wimlah are not predominately from the Katoomba region. As Maree explains, “More often than not they are not local when they come in because they want to get away from the area where they are.”27 Clients from the local area, she adds, only approach the service “if it would be safe for them”. Maree continues, “If they have been in a

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

violent situation in Blackheath it may not be appropriate for them to come to Katoomba because they are still going to be out and about. We do have local women come, but the majority are from out of area.” The refuge also has a children’s outreach worker who, as Maree explains, runs group programs for children and mothers in other locations. “She has conducted drumming groups for boys and different groups for girls like quilt making. We also have different partnerships where she may be linked in with Gunedoo or other agencies.” Maree emphasises the benefits of inter-agency partnerships. “It’s quite important to have different partnerships, and not just be stand alone, because you really do need to access and support each other.” Versatility of service delivery is also seen as vital in accessing the region’s diverse client base. “I’m involved in early intervention outreach for people who live out in this area. Recently we opened up the ‘Drop-in’ service up the road. We rented a couple of rooms where we can have counselling groups and we also have ‘Drop-in’ one afternoon a week for women in the local community who are experiencing abuse.” The ‘Drop-in’ access point also offers courses. As Maree explains, “Next term we are running a ‘Women in Relationships’ group, an eight week course in which we look at things like power and control dynamics, strength and self-esteem, creating boundaries and being more assertive.” The recently expanded level of contact Wimlah has with women in the local area, has enabled greater monitoring of related demographic and socio-economic trends. Celia comments that significant increases in demand have meant the refuge “is turning away more women and children.” As to the reasons behind this shift, Celia observes, “There has been an increase in housing issues. It take us longer to try to find women a place that’s stable and safe because getting access to housing is more difficult. There was a time last year when we had absolutely no housing options for any women here for six months.”

Changes to income support, says Celia, have also created problems. “I think Centrelink changes around parenting payments are making it a lot harder for many women and their families. They have a system now where a woman has to go out and work once their youngest child reaches a certain age.” Celia describes how the Centrelink reforms impacted on

Maree agrees but comments that Centrelink in Katoomba is “pretty good”; however, she adds that the job placement system is quite different. “These people just seem ruthless. You contact them and they say, ‘She needs to attend, she needs to fulfil the criteria, her name has been activated and she’s on the system’. You just try and get across to them the fact that ‘she’ is also experiencing domestic violence.” Celia questions the motivations of some job placement services. “They don’t seem to be interested so much in the person’s ability to gain work. Some of the women that I come across – we do a lot of home visitation – are so incapable at that moment of looking after themselves, and looking after the children, that they cannot even contemplate having to go out to work. They have never been able to participate in the work force.” Celia says that the level of preparation necessary to achieve entry into the workforce is immense. “Really, it’s years of preparation that’s going to be required before many of these women feel confident enough to be able to go out and work, because they are frightened of failure. They feel they have always failed, and they see themselves as always failing. They’ll often say that to me, ‘But I couldn’t work, nobody would want me.’ This is terrible. What’s the point of putting these women through all of this terrible, terrible stress?” The recovery process, says Celia, can be very complex. “Often it takes a lot of time. I remember supporting a woman who had been isolated to the point where she hadn’t been to a shop for three years. She was actually overwhelmed when she was at Coles, crying because she could see food on shelves that she was able to reach out and put in a basket and buy. She hadn’t had access to money. She and her child had no access to services for basically three years. They had lived on tinned spaghetti because that was all this child was allowed to eat. It takes a long time for somebody to get past the ‘overwhelmingness.’”

Wimlah

Celia identifies an additional implication of the region’s steep rise in rents and decreasing private rental vacancy rates. “The increase in stress levels around money and the management of money is putting families under a lot more pressure. Much of the escalation in violence is coming out of that.”

one of her clients. “There’s a women in our service at the moment who hasn’t been in the country long and doesn’t really speak English. I had about three phone calls to a job capacity assessment place trying to get an exemption due to the domestic violence, and they are still pushing that she go down to Penrith for an appointment in a week. I’ve told them, ‘It’s too far’. It might as well be on the moon. She can’t communicate well enough to navigate that area by herself. That kind of thing that’s really frustrating. Women who are suffering from domestic violence are in trauma. What we might feel is okay to do may not be okay for them. They are not in that head space.”

The enormity if the situations many women have been through is also evident in the psychological, physical and emotional response of children who present at the refuge. Celia comments, “We recently had a three month-old baby in here. When he first came in, he was expressionless, just like

this little lump that sat, and whimpered every now and then; and within a month that kid was reaching out for things, he was laughing.” Maree continues, “We had another little two year-old girl who wouldn’t even have anything to do with anyone, especially if it was a male. It was a consequence of her experiences. Slowly over time she started coming out of herself. Initially if she even saw a man she would have a screaming terror fit. And even with us she didn’t really want to much contact – she was scared of everyone basically.” Because of the diverse range of services provided and client experiences encountered, Wimlah staff endeavour to detect, engage and process the behavioural responses of children in various ways. As Maree explains, “We have child-support in here and we do a lot of different activities with the kids. There’s also a pre-school programme and an after-school programme. What the workers do is observe and notice things. If the things we pick-up are not within our skill level we do a lot of referrals because the effects on children are pretty great.” Maree notes that much of the recovery and healing process for children also comes through having reprieve and protection from damaging experiences in a clearly defined ‘safe’ place. “Much of what we do her”, says Maree, “is about normalising. I think there’s openness here; we just treat people for who they are.” Celia and Maree also believe that the built and environment and facility design, also make “a big difference” to the recovery process. Maree describes the structure of the refuge, “There are four units, each comprising two bedrooms, a little kitchendinning room, a living room, bathroom and a little back yard. It’s like their own little family unit. They can come here and remain within their sense of family.” Maree continues, “We also have quite a good security system so it’s quite safe here. If something was to happen, there’s a panic button in the unit. There’s access to an internal on-call phone number 24/7. If the panic button’s pressed, it goes through to security and the police.” Shared space is also an important consideration. As Maree explains, “There’s a communal room and a large child support room.” The semi-autonomous unit-based layout of the facility attends to the needs of the client base. As Celia attests, “A lot of women who have been to other refuges and stayed in a ‘big house’ type of situation have said they much prefer Wimlah because they are not on top of each other. They are able to pull back into their own space.” Celia sees this to be a unique and progressive aspect of their service. Wimlah has been in existence for just over ten years, prior to that, Maree explains, “There was another refuge. It was in a house, like most refuges are.”

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

The issue of communal house and unit based accommodation is constantly being refined by the NSW Women’s Refuge Movement. As Celia observes, “we have a refuge at Wentworthville, it’s specifically for women over the age of fifty; no children. This service has rented units in the area. When the women are assessed as being strong enough, they put two women together in a home unit very close to the refuge, and they live there at night; it’s called Pave the Way.” Celia adds, “All of the refuges I’ve been into have always been in houses, like the original one in Glebe.” Celia continues, outlining the reasons behind her preference for the unit model. “The women like to have their children together. That’s what they say to us. They like them to be safe. They like them to be where they can see them.” The process of ‘normalising’, as detailed by Maree, continues wherever possible throughout the refuge. For example, as Celia explains, “School aged children must go to school if they are in our service. Obviously not for the first few days, it depends on their needs. We have had families here where the children’s behaviour has limited them to where they can continue with their education, so they might have in-house tutoring or homework from the school where they were enrolled. It really depends on every situation. If they are of the age where they legally have to go to school, then they will get registered in the local school, or one in the area that identifies it can support their needs.” Celia details the story of a woman in her mid-thirties with four children who came through the refuge. “She came to us through the Domestic Violence Line. Most of our referrals happen that way. DOCS assess what vacancies are available at the time they receive a call and then they phone those services to confirm vacancies.” “They try to keep an update, a daily update”, adds Maree.

“At first”, recalls Celia, “the family was a bit up in the air because she hadn’t had the children in her care for about two years. Her ex-husband, the children’s father, had been receiving parenting payments and he had been drinking all the money. This is why he wanted the payments, because he was getting four lots for four kids, which is a lot of money. So we had to get on to legal issues pretty well straight away. The mum was quite resistant to start with. She was cautious

Celia continues, “She eventually stayed in one of our units for about three months and then into an exit house, and there were a lot of supports in place for her around budgeting and counselling.” Celia observed considerable changes in the woman’s behaviour during the course of her stay at the refuge. “The longer that she was here the more confident she became.” Maree agrees, “Most women tend to reach a point where they say they feel ready to leave. They experience a kind of frustration because it is time to move forward. They get to a stage where they start thinking ‘I want to get a house, I want to start my life again.’” Maree explains how outreach occurs in the exit house stage. “Usually outreach lasts around a year, depending on the need of the client, but it would be at least once a week, and the outreach worker would meet with that client.” “In the local area”, says Celia, “our service provides the support, and Community Housing in Penrith provides the tenancy.” Maree continues, “Some women will just go into a house that doesn’t have any support, but this is specific. We are offering a year’s support for woman with the four children. So we would look at her situation and say, ‘Yes, she does need on-going support and then we would look at her suitability for that.’” Maree describes how the client has coped in the exit house. “There’s been ups and downs and there’s been things that have come up for her to deal with. We try to support her with those situations as they come along.” “Initially there was a lot of debt that she needed to address”, says Celia. “She was trying to apply for priority housing through the Department of Housing. Because of the level of debt she had they wouldn’t accept her application, regardless of how many supports were in place until she had shown over a period time that she was addressing some of that debt. This is another reason why she ended up being offered that exit housing with our service, because we couldn’t get her in anywhere whilst she had this debt.”

Wimlah

Celia continues, “So she came here with her kids. They ranged in age from about five to about fourteen. The two older children went to the high school and the two younger children went to a primary school but one of them has had some level of Aspergers so he was actually experiencing a lot of rejection from his father. The children had been living with their father, because the mother had been sick, and she had gotten away from her husband. Unfortunately she ended up in another violent relationship and she got away from that man, collected her kids and came here.”

of accepting just about any level of support except for legal stuff. She went backwards and forwards, very anxious and afraid, unsure if she should stay or go.”

Celia and Maree suggest a range of obstacles impede the effectiveness of Housing NSW processes impacting on the refuge’s clients. “The hoops are massive”, says Celia. “Medical assessments by doctors who might have written, ‘Impacted by domestic violence’; then you get calls from the Department who say, ‘What do you mean by domestic violence? Explain it in detail.’”

Celia continues, “It just amazes me. There’s this real level of judgement of women and blaming and re-victimising of them all over again by some services.” For Celia, any strategies designed to meaningfully address domestic violence must acknowledge the issue of cultural conditioning. “If you are looking at domestic violence in particular, I seriously cannot see how domestic violence is going to lessen rather than escalate unless different people, organisations in the community, stand up and say, ‘Let’s start deconstructing this genderness that says it’s okay for men to control the women and children in their lives’, in more ways than just physical, like the isolation, or the financial, the emotional.” Celia believes the community must ask the right questions. “What role do women have in society? Are we setting women up to experience that they are supposed to be controlled by men? What gives men the right to believe they have the entitlement to control women? What is it in our society that continues to perpetuate the myth that men don’t have to account for their behaviour? Women have to account for their behaviour.” In addition to heightened levels of community awareness, Celia believes that significant benefits would flow from greater investment in resources and training on the part of authorities. “If the police and the Department of Housing and other public servants had to do core ‘DV’ training, if they were responding to people who were actually experiencing ‘DV’, then I think that there would be a massive difference. Obviously, there are gate-keepers in every service, but the average person who worked in those services would be thinking very differently.” Lack of awareness, comments Maree, means that many workers at a departmental level respond with ill-informed comments like, “If [the client] is in a violent situation, why doesn’t she just leave?” This negative attitude, she adds, “just puts the blame on women again.” Celia concurs, “Women stay in relationships because they are caught in the cycle. They are low in self-worth and selfesteem; they’re lonely and scared. More than anything else, women say the reason they return is that they are lonely and they want companionship. It’s not like the violence is 24/7, it’s a cycle. They’re not constantly walking into violence. There are certain things that trigger it.” The issue of ‘triggers’ provokes discussion about the techniques many women employ to cope. As Celia explains, “what they are trying to is trying to manage his behaviour or the kids’ behaviour so that the kids don’t get him to become explosive. They are walking on egg-shells, the kids are walking on egg-shells, failing to thrive as much as they should because they are agitated and anxious and scared.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

So you’ve got all these families out there, kind of living like this on the edge.” The tension that pervades circumstances of domestic violence ensures many ‘on edge’ situations come to attention of the police. However, a 2006 report by the NSW Ombudsman found that police do not have “adequate resources” to deal with the fifty per cent increase in the reporting of domestic violence cases to police that has occurred in the last decade.28 Maree backs the report, “The police have Domestic Violence Liaison Officers, but they are very difficult positions to fill. The DVLO role in Katoomba, which is supposed to service the entire Mountains area, has been vacant for a long time.” “We’ve been told the role will be filled in October”, says Celia. “The DVLO who has been in Mount Druitt is being transferred up here. The officer we currently have as acting DVLO is one of the biker police who got the position by default because of an injury.” The perception is that the lack of resources and commitment behind the DVLO role indicates it is not be taken seriously. “They don’t make it an attractive position”, says Maree. “They don’t offer incentives. It’s considered one of the bottom jobs.” Celia questions the parameters of the DVLO role itself. “If it’s felt you haven’t fulfilled your role as a police officer responding to domestic violence, it’s the DVLO’s job to pull you up on it and say, ‘Hang on, you should have done this or that.’” Celia believes more training is needed if DVLOs are to achieve more. In Celia and Maree’s view, ongoing training is imperative for anyone working with women and children subject to domestic violence. “We did core DV training over four days. This was the basic requirement for us; plus we upgrade that information every year or every 18 months. The police response is ‘Oh, we can’t afford that cost.’”

Wimlah

Training and education remains an issue for the full spectrum of agencies who engage to varying degrees with people who have experienced domestic violence. Celia suggests improvements could be made in agencies like The Department of Immigration and Citizenship and the Department of Community Services. Speaking of the latter, she says, situations of potential risk and harm could be avoided with training that helped identify the subtext of various situations. As she explains, “A lot of the time women aren’t forthcoming about certain problems that they might have and what they are doing to cope with the domestic violence because they are afraid that they are going to lose their children. Women need not to be judged and men need to be made accountable.”

Captain Colin

aptain Colin manages the Salvation Army Breakfast Service in Katoomba. A significant degree of cooperation and informal partnerships exists between the St Vincent de Paul Society and the Salvation Army. Former Regional President Catherine and Captain Colin agree that the sharing of knowledge, expertise and resources has enabled both organisations to vastly improve their service to the most disadvantaged members of the community.

Captain Colin explains that the breakfast service operates six days per week. On occasion it has served up to twenty persons in a morning. The service has taken considerable steps to reduce barriers to access. “There are no queues and no paperwork. People can just come in, it’s completely anonymous, no records.” The St Vincent de Paul Society often helps out with resources. Catherine regularly drops-off boxes of fruit, vegetables and other goods. In addition to the sharing of resources, Captain Colin and Catherine share what could be described as ‘intelligence’ about the local homeless population. They both concur that

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

on several occasions their open exchange of information has enabled them to locate and monitor persons in extremely vulnerable predicaments. The rise in highly transient and mobile behaviours in the region’s young homeless persons – most of whom engage in couch surfing and erratic travel to Sydney and other regions – has presented considerable challenges to both organisations. Again, this is an instance in which the sharing of information considerably improves the capacity of both organisations.

Regular meetings and discussions occur between both agencies, ensuring that wherever possible double-up of services is avoided and the effective integration of various complementary operations is achieved.

Captain Colin

At the Katoomba Homelessness Forum (convened by the Research Unit of the St Vincent de Paul Society NSW Sate Council and the Sacred Heart Conference at Blackheath) Captain Colin employed an example to demonstrate the heightened level of awareness the Breakfast Service has afforded the St Vincent de Paul Society and the Salvation Army in Katoomba.

turn up. We sent a counsellor around to her house. Her dog had died. It was her only companion. She couldn’t cope and had left the body inside the house. The house was abysmal. We provided her with help and she was taken to the hospital, as she had cancer. If we didn’t have the Breakfast Service, we would have had no way of monitoring her and she may have died in her home alone. Instead, because we were able to help her, she died surrounded by friends in Queensland.”

“One client’s been coming in for years”, says Colin. “She’s known to us and Vinnies. For a long time the Breakfast Service was the only contact she had with people. One day she didn’t

Conclusion

The experience of homelessness and marginalisation in Katoomba is in some ways common, on a selective basis, with particular characteristics of broader locational experiences. The complexities apparent in many diverse urban and rural experiences of homelessness around Australia â&#x20AC;&#x201C; such as issues surrounding mental health, addiction and comorbidity â&#x20AC;&#x201C; are evident to varying degrees in localised populations like Katoomba. However, other aspects of homelessness and marginalisation are distinct to Katoomba, be they related to environmental, socio-economic, cultural or additional factors.

Particular regional characteristics detailed in this report, such as Katoombaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s exceedingly high proportion of part-time employment, above average unemployment, and low uptake of tertiary education indicate reduced capacities for consistent engagement in the workforce. Similarly, exceptionally low median individual and household income levels offer additional evidence of pronounced and entrenched socioeconomic disadvantage in the area. The comparative health and morbidity indicators highlighted in this study only serve compound the marginalising factors detailed above.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

It is impossible to quantify the multitude of typically interrelated and complex factors that precipitate an individual experience of homelessness. However, it is undeniable a combination of the many disparate socio-economic and locational features of Katoomba increase the likelihood and severity of homelessness among a range of demographic coteries identified in the previously cited data. Furthermore, anecdotal reports from the St Vincent de Paul Society and the Salvation Army suggest Katoomba’s geographic status as an urban-rural nexus heightens its position as a point of transience for highly mobile sections of the homeless population particularly youths. However, in the absence of sufficient regional data collection methods to track trends such as train riding or couch surfing, the size and composition of this transient component is difficult to ascertain. Were greater observational detail captured in the basic counts currently conducted at facilities such as the Blue Mountains Emergency Men’s Accommodation Service and the Breakfast Service, then perhaps the fundamentals of a clearer account could be developed. The in-depth interviews conducted with several persons in the region either recently or presently experiencing homelessness and marginalisation offer additional insights into the distinctive aspects of marginalisation and the interface of social services and departmental responses. Brian: concluding observations Reflecting on the interviews in the order they appear in this report, it is clear Brian’s predicament raises some potentially challenging questions. His high level of social interaction and participation, as evidenced by his markedly rigorous schedule of volunteer work, would seem to be at odds with the high incidence of social dislocation often associated with homelessness. Similarly, motivation does not seem to present any significant challenge. The issue of personal space and security is evidently a matter of importance to Brian. His expressed desire to resume his stained glass work in a quiet, secure and resourced environment is in deep contrast to the unacceptable level of exposure and insecurity he currently endures sleeping in a vehicle in the open. It is reasonable to conclude that Bob could continue to make a vital contribution to the local community in his capacity as a volunteer, and he could also achieve greater personal fulfilment through harnessing his creative skills. These sources of stability and wellbeing are contingent on Bob having safe, secure, stable and independent housing.

Tony: concluding observations Tony’s story is an incisive reading of long-term homelessness and the nurturing of a series of personal motivations and social interactions to achieve stability. For him, Katoomba’s location acted as a geographical barrier between his former existence of primary homelessness and his current life. The two-hour transit between Sydney and the Mountains enables him to oscillate between his valued social investments – such as The Big Issue and his friends – yet the journey also affords his the emotional and psychological space he requires to maintain his self-esteem. Tony’s admissions concerning his problems with depression and drug, alcohol and gambling addictions suggest distance has also enabled him to define and limits in this regard. Having his own secure space has also allowed him to process his feelings and observations in a creative and positive manner through his writing. The value Tony places on his religious faith and his writing suggests he is aware they are integral parts of his identity as an individual recovering from homelessness; however, he also seems to acknowledge that they dualistically draw him back to the peripheries of homelessness. The urban-rural nexus of Katoomba enables him to pull back when he feels overly extended. Randle: concluding observations Randle’s arrival in Katoomba after days of sleeping in his car is, according to Society members in the region, an exceedingly common occurrence. Katoomba’s location, on the edge of Greater Western Sydney makes it what is often described as the ‘least worst’ option for people who feel unable to cope with the intensity of urban environments yet unwilling to retreat to the potentially isolating reaches of rural Australia. Randle’s recognition of his mental illness brought with it an acknowledgement that a prolonged experience of homelessness and transience many irreparably aggravate his condition. His decision to access the St Vincent de Paul Society and seek assistance with accommodation and further help in contacting mental health services suggests that he is willing to work towards a measure of recovery, yet

Conclusion

Anthea: concluding observations Anthea’s experiences offered a series of candid insights into domestic violence and homelessness. Her story shows how abusive relationships can sometimes appear multidimensional, seemingly with a lot of love and trust interspersed with acts of violence. Anthea also illustrated the devastating impact of verbal as well as physical abuse. Anthea’s views on perceived correlations between the perpetrator’s up-bringing

and his propensity for violence indicate a heightened level of causal and circumstantial awareness on her part. Regarding her interaction with support services, her experience with DOCS would suggest that in this instance they conveyed an overly bureaucratic and detached tone, seemingly unable to devolve or re-work rigid policies and systems to attend to her specific and clearly desperate requests. Alternatively, local services like Blue Gum Housing proved capable of responding in a highly adaptive and communicative manner. Wimlah also provided sound support, as did the St Vincent de Paul Society and the Salvation Army. However, in broadly commenting on her experience with the gambit of services, Anthea felt as though not all of her decisions have been fully acknowledged or respected. Lastly, her feeling that she does not belong in Katoomba suggests that her time in the region served a purpose, yet she feels she will benefit from a more supportive environment in Western Sydney, closer to family.

its success is conditional on particular factors. In some ways reflective of Tony, Randle’s choice of Katoomba as a place to find the personal space he professes to need to heal (on his terms), once again emphasises the retreat-like perception many homeless persons hold of area. A tension seems to exist in Randle’s case between having the willingness to seek help on the one hand, and on the other hand having a strong desire to ‘go it alone’. This suggests access to sufficient support needs to be open to Randle, yet he must not feel compelled or forced to completely surrender control of his recovery process to a rigid model imposed on an agency level. Megan: concluding observations As relayed by Society member Catherine, Megan’s readiness to overcome domestic violence and homelessness brought her to Katoomba. While, in Catherine’s view, accessing a service like Wimlah enabled Megan to achieve the distance and support she required for herself and her son to recover, it cost her a margin of her identity, her sense of belonging. In this sense the locational aspects of Katoomba are dualistic, both facilitating and dislocating all at once. This ‘loss of place’ has been further exacerbated by the instability of Megan’s experience in Katoomba’s private rental market. The often erratic, increasingly unaffordable, short supply and seasonal trends of housing in Katoomba make it particularly susceptible to fluctuations in the broader market. While housing upheavals have not derailed Megan’s recovery, Catherine feels they have undermined her ability to forge greater levels of community participation and social interaction. Malcolm: concluding observations Malcolm’s story is incredibly complex. His experience of homelessness did not arise in a manner typical to most people. Incidences of failed communication and an utter lack of respect on the part of others repeatedly infuse his story. Mortgage foreclosure and forced sale are the triggers of many personal housing crises. However, rarely does this occur in instances where an individual is afforded the right to renegotiate their loan or have an advocate do so their behalf. Malcolm’s particular range of abilities requires that he be provided with the services of an interpreter in contractual or welfare matters. The bank’s refusal to do so and Housing NSW’s apparent unwillingness to process Malcolm’s case through an authorised intermediary directly contributed to his homelessness and potentially his PTSD. Malcolm’s wish to remain in Katoomba, a place he describes as ‘known territory’ suggests that greater homeless service supports are required to manage the contingencies associated with a case of his, or similar levels of complexity. On a basic level, it is clear that the current emergency accommodation option for adult males in Katoomba – a shared room above a pub – is entirely unsuitable for Malcolm and other men experiencing homelessness. However, the growing level of demand for emergency accommodation for this demographic confirms that a sufficiently supported alternative must be sought with

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

the utmost urgency. Undoubtedly, Malcolm’s case proves that heightened awareness of fundamental access and equity issues is urgently required at critical social service agencies and government departments. General conclusions Celia and Maree of the Wimlah Women and Children’s Refuge argue that lack of awareness and understanding on the part of a multitude of domestic violence service interfaces is a serious imposition urgently in need of redress. The systems and policies in place at local agencies like Wimlah and Blue Gum Housing appear to foster positive outcomes for the overwhelming majority of clients. However, it is evident that communication and procedural failures on the part of critical government departments and social service agencies threaten to undermine otherwise successful and organic local processes.

Although no two experiences of homelessness are the same, this study confirms that the trauma of displacement that accompanies homelessness is to varying degrees ameliorated by the sense of belonging a place like Katoomba provides. When every part of a person’s life seems adrift, the importance of ‘known territory’ cannot be underestimated.

Cooperation and collaboration are crucial to achieving successful outcomes for homeless and marginalised persons in Katoomba. Integrated service provision reflects the interrelated and complex nature of disadvantage. Every one of the six individuals interviewed in this report experienced varying levels of success through their ability to independently access (or gain assisted access to) multiple local agencies in accordance with their varied needs and circumstances. Where problems did occur, it was typically the result of access and communication deficiencies on the part of broad scale state and national agencies and departments. The additional trauma that homeless persons endure as a result of service gaps and communication failures only further emphasises the critical importance of stories and their fundamental role in the maintenance and recovery of damaged identities. People must have the right to feel that their stories have been heard and that they have been understood. This is the biggest lesson emerging from the Katoomba experience. In a social service environment where homeless persons rarely get to tell their story in detail greater than that which fits on innumerable varieties of administrative forms, it is important they are given the chance to affirm themselves, their identity and their experiences. For this reason, the interview narratives in this report were deliberately of an expansive nature beyond the brevity typically allocated to homeless persons. This is part of the healing and awareness raising process, a part facilitated through active listening and intellectual engagement.

Conclusion

Heightened awareness and respect are critical if the experience of homelessness and marginalisation is to be meaningfully addressed in Katoomba. If current strengths are to be built upon and weaknesses overcome, then all stakeholders must be made to feel that their stories matter.

Endnotes 1. The Rule of the St Vincent de Paul Society in Australia, Fifth Edition, National

19. The Big Issue is “an organisation that helps people to get back on their

Council of Australia, Deakin, 2005, p. 21.

feet – particularly people who are experiencing homelessness and long-term

2. C. Chamberlain & D. MacKenzie, “Counting the Homeless: Implications for

unemployment. The key project is a current affairs and entertainment magazine,

Policy Development”, Australian Census Analytic Program, Australian Bureau of

The Big Issue. It is sold on the streets by vendors who keep half the $5 cover

Statistics, Canberra, ABS cat. no. 2041.0.

price.” See: http://www.bigissue.org.au/

Note: Chamberlain and MacKenzie stress that the categories primary, secondary

20. Current rental averages for the Katoomba region are around $180 per week.

and tertiary “are useful categories to describe peoples housing situations, particularly

21. Delirium tremens (‘DTs’) is a severe reaction after stopping alcohol. It occurs

on census night, but there are not three distinct groups of homeless people…

in about 1 in 20 people who have alcohol withdrawal symptoms about 2-3 days

Transience [between categories] is the typical pattern.” See: C. Chamberlain & D.

after their last drink. Symptoms include: marked tremor (the shakes) and delirium

MacKenzie, “Counting the Homeless 2006”, Australian Census Analytic Program,

(agitation, confusion, and seeing and hearing things that are not there). Some

Australian Bureau of Statistics, Canberra, ABS cat. no. 2050.0.

people have convulsions. Complications can develop such as dehydration and

3. C. Chamberlain & D. MacKenzie, “Counting the Homeless 2001”, Australian

other serious physical problems. It is fatal in some cases. “Alcohol Detoxification”,

Census Analytic Program, Australian Bureau of Statistics, Canberra, ABS cat. no.

Patient UK (online), http://www.patient.co.uk/, 2009 (accessed: 25 March 2009).

2050.0.

22. ‘Meth’ is short-hand for Methadone “a synthetic narcotic drug similar to

4. ibid.

morphine but less habit-forming; it is commonly used in narcotic detoxification and

5. ibid.

maintenance of heroin addiction”. See: “Drugs in Australia”, National Council on

6. ibid.

Drugs and Alcohol (online), http://www.ancd.org.au/, 2009 (accessed: 23 March

7. Refer to: A. Marks, Residents at Risk: Stories of ‘Last Resort’ Caravan Park

2009).

Residency in NSW, St Vincent de Paul Society NSW, Lewisham, 2008.

23. In March 2008, Therese Rein, wife of Prime Minister Kevin Rudd was appointed

8. “Definition of Homelessness”, Supported Accommodation Assistance Act

patron of the Common Ground Homeless Initiative. See: “Therese Rein to be

(1994) Section 4, Commonwealth Consolidated Acts, Canberra, 1994.

patron for homelessness services”, The Hon Tanya Plibersek (online), http://www.

9. Chamberlain & MacKenzie, op. cit., ABS cat. no. 2050.0

tanyaplibersek.fahcsia.gov.au/, 2008 (accessed: 23 March 2009).

10. “Quick Stats: Katoomba”, ABS 2006 Census, Australian Bureau of Statistics,

24. “AUSLAN is the sign language used by the Australian Deaf and non-vocal

Canberra, ABS Location Code: SSC11515

communities under normal circumstances and without outside intervention.

11. ibid.

AUSLAN is related to British Sign Language, although not identical to it. It is

12. “Population Health and Strategic Direction”, Sydney West Area Health Service,

dissimilar to American Sign Language, although some signs have been taken from

NSW Health (online), http://ww.wsahs.nsw.gov.au/services/dsdph/CPH/Projects/

American Sign Language and incorporated into AUSLAN”. See: T. Johnston, & A.

Equitable.HTM, 2005, (accessed: 1 April 2009).

Schembri, Australian Sign Language: An introduction to sign language linguistics,

13. A. Marks, Interview with Captain Colin of the Salvation Army, Katoomba

Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2007; M. Waleed Kadous, Recognition

Breakfast Service, 16 June 2008.

of Australian Sign Language Using Instrumented Gloves, University of New South

14. J. Ross, “Homelessness and Housing Stress in the Blue Mountains”, Blue

Wales, Kensington, 1995.

Mountains Child and Family Forum, 13 November 2008.

25. Wimlah Women and Children’s Refuge Annual Report 2006-07, Women’s

15. Catherine is referring to the Ozanam Learning Centre. For more information

Refuge Movement, Katoomba, 2007.

refer to: A. Marks, & C. Douglas, Life Lessons: Learning and recreation as pathways

26. ibid., p. 9.

out of chronic homelessness, St Vincent de Paul Society, Lewisham, 2008.

27. A. Marks, Interview with Maree and Celia of the Wimlah Refuge and Catherine

16. Blue Gum is a supported housing service run by women for women and their

of the St Vincent de Paul Society, Wimlah Refuge, 16 June 2008.

dependent children, located in the Katoomba area of the Blue Mountains. The

28. J. Macey, “NSW police tackle heavy load of domestic violence cases”, ABC

service is funded under the Supported Accommodation Assistance programme.

Radio National Transcript, ABC (online), http://www.abc.net.au/pm/content/2006/

See: J. Germon, The NSW Women’s Refuge Movement’s Little Book of Refuges,

s1811071.htm, 2006 (accessed 31 March 2009).

First Edition, NSW Women’s Refuge Resource Centre, Redfern, 2002, p. 55. 17. Located in Erskine Street, Sydney, ‘The Station’ is an Outreach centre for homeless persons over 21 years-of-age who are having difficulty attaining and sustaining adequate and secure accommodation, health status and personal autonomy. Services include emergency relief, self-care, shower, laundry, recreation, mental health support, drug and alcohol counselling, probono legal advice, welfare advice, onsite healthcare, housing support and referral. See: http://www.thestationltd.org/ 18. “The single rate of the NSA [Newstart Allowance] is now $11,682 per annum”; see: D. Ingles and R. Dennis, “Increasing the Newstart Allowance: A necessary part of equitable fiscal stimulus”, The Australia Institute, Research Paper No. 60, February 2009.

Known Territory: A Study of Homelessness and Marginalisation in Katoomba

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End Notes

Wimlah Women and Children’s Refuge Annual Report 2006-07, Women’s Refuge Movement, Katoomba, 2007.