Tag Archive: stories


As I board the tram this morning, jostling for position and validating my ticket I become aware of a man who is obviously upset. His voice loud but incoherent, I can only catch occasional words and phrases; openly weeping he says something about the Japanese and Americans, numbers of people who had died, lamenting “the children… the children…” Some people openly stare, others deliberately looked away, avoiding eye contact.  A child wearing a pink backpack, pink hat and pink scarf burrows her heads into her mother’s side, covering her other ear to block out his voice.  We are all afraid of him; at the very least he makes us uncomfortable.  Why doesn’t he sit quietly and mind his business like everyone else?  There is a hush on the tram and only this elderly mans querulous and confused voice asking “Why?”

I consider engaging him in conversation but a young woman beats me to it… “Hi, I’m here to help you.  Can you lower your voice? Ssh. You’re scaring people.  I am your friend.  What is your name?  Where are you going?”  The man does not know.  The tram has halted and everyone now openly watches the scene unfold.  An older man comes up behind her, backup against the unexpected.  The lights change to red twice, three times, and the elderly man cannot answer the questions.  A police vehicle pulls up at the lights beside us. The older man jumps out and taps on their window, and they pull over.  The woman, his new friend, tells the elderly man some more friends have arrived, they’re going to give him a ride to the city, to come with her.  He is assisted from the tram and led away.

The aberrant element removed, the lights change and our tram moves off, a relieved babbling fills the hush “…must be dementia”,  “I know, my grandfather…” But some are silent witnesses, beginning to end and I wonder whether, like me, they think of how they could or should have responded. Internally, I have a querulous and confused voice that joins in asking “Why?”

Mobile hospitality


Fortnightly we do a blanket run – load blankets, a thermos of hot coffee and some bikkies on a trolley (in summer we switch to ice blocks and juice) and wander the streets and laneways of Melbourne on Sunday nights from about 9pm.

When we first started to do the run and we weren’t sure where we might find people, we’d often reflect on what we might look for ourselves in a place to sleep and then look for places that met those criteria – somewhere dark, sheltered from wind/rain, private…  it was interesting to learn that actually well-lit and populated places are much safer, for everyone actually but especially for a single woman. This was important in coming to understand why the issue of homelessness can feel like a ‘visible’ one. We did not end up needing to look very hard at all to find people to share hospitality with.

Three runs in a row we walked past a woman sleeping on the mat out the front of a jewellery store on a main street in the CBD.  Each time we saw her we offered her coffee or blankets and she didn’t speak – either mutely shaking her head or ignoring us completely.

The fortnight after that…?  We sat together for twenty minutes over a cup of coffee.  She told me her name, offered me a cigarette and told me a little about her three imaginary friends who were sitting with us.

The fortnight after that…? Just a silent head shake “no”

After that…?

I haven’t seen her since.

This isn’t a story about sharing the ‘good news’.  She didn’t start coming to the free lunch we run.  I didn’t advocate for her on any issue or find her housing or work or bring about reconciliation with her family.  I have no idea if she even needed any of that.

It’s hard sometimes not knowing what has happened to someone.  I noticed you were gone and I hope that you’re ok.