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Just to know that someone cares is the main thing I guess. Most of the people on the street don't have anyone. We end up with no one when we come out here and you think that no one cares no one worries about you and no ones willing to listen to what goes on in your life… what problems you have.
Then I meet Dominic and Gerry and the volunteers, they are willing to give up their time to come and see you and worry about you personally and take the time out to listen to what you have to say, it's great.
That's what people need is someone to actually be there and to talk with, to listen , to care, someone to trust.
Knowing that there is someone there to care even if they aren't there 24 / 7. When they do come out you really know it's someone who accepts you the way you are and they are ready to listen.
They care about me and they miss me if I don't turn up and that really makes me feel really special, well at least to someone."
Homeless People - Elle's Story
Elle was fourteen when she arrived in Kings Cross, having run away from home somewhere in rural New South Wales.
Within days Elle came to the attention of a drug dealer who promptly set in play a plan to take advantage of her.
For around two weeks he supplied her with free drugs, saying she could pay him back at a later date. He showed her how to shoot-up and supplied her on a daily basis.
The aim was to get her hooked, after using heroin for two weeks Elle was well and truly dependent, both on the drug and him as the supplier of her fix.
He also provided her protection from other dealers and people on the street who would have raped her. What did this cost? Well he had his way whenever he wanted it. She was doped up and at his disposal whenever he wanted it.
When he was sure she had used a significant dollar value of drugs to constitute a significant debt, and was convinced the drug itself had a complete hold on her he delivered his ultimatum:
Pay back the debt (well over a thousand dollars) in three days,
or go to work in a brothel as a prostitute to work off the debt
with brothel staff and patrons.
Fortunately for Elle, he wasn't the only one whose eye she had caught. Numerous homeless people had warned her about the path she was going down.
She was warned not to use drugs, not to build up a debt to a drug dealer. But at the naive age of 14 and not knowing the gravity of her situation, she had ignored them.
When she was high, all her worries slipped away. She was happy again and felt free from the emotional pain of her past. The sex was bearable as she was stoned, and it was only one guy, not anyone and everyone that wanted a piece of her.
Elle had met a guy who could make the pain go away and keep her safe from other monsters. She fell hook line and sinker for his trickery.
When given the ultimatum she was also told, that if she did not pay back the money or go to work in the brothel... her throat would be cut.
Fearing for her life and not knowing what to do she turned to some of the homeless people who had warned her.
They knew, given the particular drug dealer involved that the threat on her life was very serious and there was no way out.
Think what you will about homeless people, about people who use drugs and about people who do crime… but over the following three days a small group of homeless people raised the money needed to pay off Elle's debt through 'the commerce of the street.'
There was no point approaching charities for help, they would not pay money to a drug dealer. Informing the Police was not an option, as 'dogging' someone in on the streets is a death sentence itself.
So they paid off her debt with money
that had been stolen, money that had
been made selling drugs and money
that had been made from prostitution.
It was time for a new ultimatum from the homeless people who had paid off her debt. Elle was taken to the train station and given money for a train.
They informed her that if she was ever seen in Kings Cross again she would be beaten within an inch of her life, then, after time in hospital if she returned; again she would be beaten within an inch of her life.
"Take the chance you have been given and never ever come back."
At the age of fourteen, Elle was considered too young by the homeless to be forced by a drug dealer into prostitution.
When I heard about Elle's situation and what was being done in response to the problem by homeless people I was not surprised at all.
In fact I believe it typifies quite well the fact that homeless people don't want to see more young people sucked into the life of drugs and prostitution and are willing to get involved to stop it happening.
The offer of free drugs should ring very loud alarm bells for any young person, homeless or not, because in the drug world and on the streets… nothing comes for free.
Stupidly, in the process of getting to know the dealer, Elle had given her real name and said where her parents lived.
I've moved homeless people interstate when their life is at risk on the streets in one city or another, but when the predator knows exactly who you are and where your family lives there isn't much point trying to run.
Some women in domestic violence situations face a similar reality.
For those whose lives are at risk tonight, either through domestic violence or through the dangers of life on the streets, please take a moment to appreciate the security you enjoy and the personal freedom we all take for granted.
As for Elle... we hope for her future and pray for her as the journey continues.
Homeless People - Melissa's Story
Rape fades to normality
Melissa has been treated like a toilet all her life, as a child, as a teenage girl and now as a woman she has been raped sometimes daily by whatever male wants to use her.
She is thirty, with a slight figure and a quiet presence. She spoke of a male and female boarding house where she is residing. "Its getting a bit much," she says "there is always a guy wanting something sexual, night after night."
Melissa left home because of sexual abuse at the age of 15. On the streets, she would pair up with a guy for protection. I guess, at least she got to chose which guy it would be and have some influence over what happened sexually and when, as they were 'in a relationship.'
But she is off the streets, there is no boyfriend at the moment and the boarding house is taking its toll.
I asked if anyone at the boarding house had ever forced themselves upon her. She explains that over the years she has learnt that either violence or rape follows refusal.
Her experience of life has been as the victim of regular
sexual exploitation from one male or another.
What you or I understand as rape, does not apply… as the rapes add up, the violence adds up and she is now at a point where she copes by not resisting the sexual advances and rationalizing to herself that once a week is a good week, instead of once a day.
It's hard to describe what it is like being in Melissa's presence. She is extremely shy, hiding in the background and avoiding attention from anyone… she flies under the radar.
We talk quietly and slowly together about the boarding house as she maps out her plan of how and when she will move away from it. Her plan is daring, it means she will make a choice and take action against what her attackers want by quietly disappearing.
She didn't need anything from me, she just wanted to say her plan out loud and tell me of how it will work out for her. I just said "It's going to be really good when you do it, isn't it?" Affirming her plan and that things will work out for her.
We have to be so careful with people like Melissa not to stride into their lives and make decisions for them or take power away from them because we don't know what is best for her. Only Melissa knows what her next step should be, what goals she should set in her life and what she needs to do to survive.
We are just there, being present in a way that is gentle and open. Being present with people in pain is done without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
Homeless Man - Andrew's Story
 Andrew was murdered while homeless. I've known him for ten years (since he was 14 years old).
Once arrested for tackling a statue of a cow? That's right, one of the charities was doing a fundraiser which involved placing statues of cows (life size) throughout the mall, later auctioning them after local identities had painted them.
With a flagon of goon (bag of cheap wine) in one hand, and a determination that for some reason he must battle with the beast. Andrew lined himself up to charge in and head but the cow.
He knocked himself clean out. While still unconscious, the cops had to pry the flagon from his grasp.
Then there was the customs beagle. One day he walked past a Ute (SUV with loading tray) parked in the city with a dog tied up in the tray. He said the poor little dog was whimpering and he decided to untie it so it was more comfortable.
Then, 'your honor,' the dog jumped out of the Ute and just started following me. What would have appeared to anyone other than customs officials as 'your garden variety pooch,' was in fact a highly trained drug sniffer dog.
Can you imagine a drug sniffer dog following a homeless guy around for a couple of weeks, interacting with dozens of drug users every day! God it was funny.
Needless to say, the judge found it hard to stop laughing and actually conduct the court hearing in full.
I think he got off very lightly for that one, simply for entertaining the judge so much. I mean how unlucky would you have to be to pick that dog!
 The last time I saw Andrew before he died was on his birthday (New Year's Day). I pulled him aside and quietly gave him $50 and said - 'no drugs and don't get yourself arrested on your birthday.' He couldn't believe it. He looked at me with his eyes popping out of his head and said 'Shit! Thanks Dom.'
Had I of known Andrew would have later been killed (some time later in the new year), I wouldn't have handed him the $50, I would have walked with him to the pub and sat there for the day and shared his birthday with him.
Like so many people I have met on the streets, Andrew was put into foster care as an infant. He later went to school at Boystown, was constantly in and out of prison and lived on the streets in between.
I remember driving three hours one day to pick him up the day he was released from one prison, to the local pub for a counter meal and a beer, and then into the city where I dropped him off - back onto the streets again.
Andrew was telling me after being released from prison one time that he had been quite suicidal whilst inside. 'You know I've had a terrible life Dom. You know I've had some not nice things done to me and that the piss has been knocked out of me more often than someone could probably bear right.'
'Well you know I was going to kill myself for real. But you know what fucked it for me every time? You my brother.
I would be all fucked up about my life and trying to say 'your shit - no one loves you no one cares if you die,' but I couldn't because I knew it was a lie. I know you care about me Dom and I would just sit there and think of what you had said to me in the past and what you think of me and I couldn't kill myself.'
'Sucked in,' I said, 'serves you right for being so stupid. I'm glad I fucked it up for you.'
'I know brother, I know - thanks.' He said.
I remember over the years a number of times he said 'no one will come to my funeral.' So the day we gathered for his memorial at Newfarm Park, near the Brisbane River, I looked around at all the people who had gathered and just said 'I told you so bro, I told you so.'
Gangsta's Paradise was the song they played at his funeral and at the memorial service. Here are some lines from the song:
"death ain't nothing but a heartbeat away,
I'm living life, do or die, what can I say
I'm 23 now, but will I live to see 24
the way things are going I don't know"
The ten years of friendship with Andrew has been a real blessing for me.
My fondest memory though will be watching State of Origin football with him and screaming at eachother - he was a blues supporter and I am a Queenslander. We would get right up in eachother's face and I would scream 'Qweeen's-lan-daaaar!' and he would scream 'Go the Mighty Blues!'
Another night I remember him just laughing his head off at me when I was blowing my stack at another homeless guy who had grabbed one of the female volunteers on the bum.
Andrew was in stitches because the guy was about three times the size of me and pretty scary looking and I don't tend to mince my words or hide my feelings when someone disrespects one of my volunteers. Andrew was crying with laughter and just said: 'Your old school Dom, your old school!'
I was still a little hot under the collar but he got me smiling again.
Thank you for your friendship Andrew. I'll never forget you.
Andrew died at age 24. He had fathered 3 children, two were taken as infants into foster care - the same as Andrew.
From time to time, Andrew needed to cry – to weep. Sometimes we would talk before and sometimes we would talk after. Sometimes, there was no talking, no explanation needed, we would just embrace and he would cry. Remembering the times when I held him and he cried, and we didn’t talk, he just came for a hug and a cry. It’s very difficult to care for someone and be there for them while they suffer for so many years and finally for them to die… to be murdered.
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