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South East Wyoming Skywarn
      WYOMING WINDS

July 2008
 A publication of The Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless
907 Logan Avenue
Cheyenne, WY 82001-5247
phone: 307-634-8499 fax: 307-634-9089
            email: wch@vcn.com ©1990-2008                

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TABLE OF CONTENTS
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Work Begins on the Day Care at the WCH Richards Center

Work is finally beginning on the day care coming to the WCH Richards Center. St. Peters Church is putting in the playground and Pioneer Construction will begin working on the basic plan, and alternated #1. Funds are still needed to complete alternates #2-#4. The amount still needed to finalize the plans is $120,000.00. Anyone wishing to donate to this project should mark their check "building fund" and the money will be added to the project funds. For more information, to see the plans, look at the site or anything else related to this project contact Virginia at 634-8499.

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A place to go when it's too hot to live on the street
By MARK ZIMMARO
Burlington County Times

MOUNT HOLLY — Bruce Young's face said it all. On one side of the door, it was difficult for the out-of-work mover to hide his expressions of doubt as the sweat trickled down his nose. But once inside the Christian Community Center operated by Extended Hands Ministries in Mount Holly, Young's face had a different look. Relief.

“I've been living in the woods for weeks,” Young said, his voice cracking with gratitude at times. “I had nowhere to go. But this is a really good thing they have here.”

Thanks to Bishop Barbara Davis, who runs the small church-based community center tucked away on Holeman Street, people like Young have a place to go — and now stay — during the dog days of summer.

Recently, Davis instituted a new policy. Calling it Code Red, much like the center's Code Blue during the winter, Davis will allow the homeless to stay overnight to avoid the extreme weather conditions on the street.

There are no year-round homeless shelters in Burlington County. In the winter, however, the county Department of Human Services provides $40,000 annually to help fund three temporary shelters run by faith-based organizations that open their doors to the homeless when a Code Blue is declared.

Davis received permission from the county to begin the new service, but the center will not receive any additional public money to do so.

With recent temperatures soaring to a record-tying 97 degrees, Davis saw it as a perfect time to break in the new service.

“The only thing I'm concerned about is that someone could die out there,” Davis said. “My payment is in heaven. They can stay as long as they like in here to get out of the extreme heat.”

Davis, who has run the center since 1988 and has been feeding the less fortunate four times a week since 1991, wanted to take it a step further. The center can house up to 14 people overnight and can hold many more during the daytime to keep people out of the harmful sunlight.

“Now I don't have to force anyone out,” Davis said. “It's great because I don't ask anyone for rent. They will just help out and clean and pick up trash in the street. I just love people.” And the feelings are reciprocated.

“It's like a family here,” said Kimberly Chilcott. “I have been coming here for a year and a half. Before that, I had nowhere to go. I just stayed with friends. Everyone is so nice here and it's great to have somewhere to get out of the heat, get a shower, get changed and eat.”

“It's tough,” said Davis' son, Selwyn, who helps out at the center. “With the economy so bad right now, it's harder every month to pay for fuel and food. I'm a truck driver and I know how tough it is. We're just here to help.”

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Nurse Made Honorary Doctor
By AEDAN HELMER
SUN MEDIA

Cathy Crowe became a "street nurse" accidentally 20 years ago while working in public health in downtown Toronto. "In that period I've seen homelessness worsen to the point of catastrophe," said Crowe.

Recently, the 56-year-old accepted an honorary doctorate from the University of Ottawa, delivering an impassioned plea before the university's health sciences graduating class.

Homelessness has been declared a national disaster. The United Nations calls it a national emergency. I call it a national disgrace," said Crowe in a speech to students at the National Arts Centre's Southam Hall.

In 1998, Crowe helped form the Toronto Disaster Relief Committee, pushing individual municipalities to face the homelessness epidemic.

"In cities across the country -- including Ottawa -- councils declared homelessness a disaster," said Crowe. "It led to millions of dollars going into homelessness relief, but it didn't lead to a national housing program. That's the main thing we're pushing for now."

Crowe said the cancellation of the national housing program in 1993 is "the No. 1 reason" 300,000 men and women, and more than 20,000 children in Canada are now homeless.

"We can put more disaster relief efforts out there, we can have more outreach programs, we can build more shelters, but we have people who have been homeless so long they're dying homeless," said Crowe.

Crowe is one of 10 prominent Canadians to receive honorary doctorates from the U of O specific to their discipline, as convocation ceremonies continued through the weekend.

Besides enduring the occasional tease -- "a nurse being called a doctor" -- Crowe fears her outspoken views might prevent her from receiving similar honours in the future.

"Some people think I'll never get one again now that they know what I'm up to," laughed Crowe.

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Wellness on Wheels
Niagara Health Bus Travels Across the Region
to Help Those Who Otherwise May Not Recieve Any Care
By Sue Dickens
Regional Niagara This Week

"I'd like to know we've made a difference in someone's life," said Stacey Allegro, public health nurse with the Niagara Health bus.

She and Maria Rosiana, the team leader, are just two of the trained staff that also includes a dental team that travels with the bus to communities throughout the region.

Rosiana has 15 years of community experience working with the VON (Victorian Order of Nurses) and Allegro has done some work with home care and nursing in the correctional system.

"I know public health is where I want to be. To me this is my dream job," said Allegro.

Both are dedicated professionals who are working with clients that normally might not receive any care.

The bus itself was started in 1997 when representatives of the Wise Guys Charity and Community Care St. Catharines and Thorold approached the region's public health department with an offer to purchase a vehicle which would provide mobile outreach health and dental services.

It was envisioned that this initiative would provide health care to the homeless population as well as other vulnerable and marginalized individuals in Niagara.

Extensive assessment and planning took place between public health staff and community agencies that were currently working with these people.

A 10-metre Blue Bird school bus was purchased and retrofitted by the Wise Guys Charity and various other organizations also donated time and funds.

The health bus was designed to provide health care such as treatment for minor medical conditions, mental health counselling, foot care, immunization, sexual health counselling, STD testing and treatment, dental assessments, referrals, and general health promotion information. It is not a walk-in clinic.

"Every day is different," said Allegro. "For example we could be treating someone who fell off a bike one day and see addicts with abscesses. A lot of times we see people who don't have health cards."

The services are provided no questions asked. Clients do need to provide their name, date of birth, the name of a contact, any allergies they may have, and the name of their doctor, if they have one, just for the purpose of gathering data.

"We have regulars who come to see us at every site," said Allegro.

The bus has a summer and winter schedule and stops in communities where, over time, it was discovered there was the greatest need and the best response, including Niagara Falls, Welland, Port Colborne, Beamsville, St. Catharines and Fort Erie. Since inception, the health bus has provided service at 36 different sites throughout the Niagara Region.

"What is most rewarding is when clients come back and tell us we have helped them," said Rosiana.

Alan Spencer, manager for the region's sexual health program, who oversees the health bus, says, "trust in the service has developed over time and after the first two or three years it really got rolling."

"The health bus is functioning very well. The staff likes it, the community likes it. It is a very successful service."

New statistics about its use are being gathered for 2008 but data from 2006 indicates that 59 per cent of the clients are male and over half of the clients are over the age of 35. More than 3,000 clients are seen each year.

In 2006 the cost to run the program was over $300,000 and that included staffing costs of about $240,000.

The budget is shared, 25 per cent by the region and 75 per cent by the Ministry of Health and Long-term Care.

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Former Nun's Dream for Homeless Drop-in Center
in East St. Louis Becomes Reality, Bears Her Name

By Michele Munz
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH

Those living on the streets call her Sister Paulyn, even though she is not a nun anymore. She left the sisterhood 18 years ago when the order was going to send her away. She wanted to stay in East St. Louis, with the people she calls "beautiful."

So, when trying to come up with a name for a new $800,000 drop-in center for the homeless, the charity's board agreed that PaulynHouse shows everyone what the place is about.

"She's a name brand on the street. If you need help, you go to Sister Paulyn," said board member Joan Vatterott.

Paulyn Snyder, 61, blushes at the name. And at the opening ceremony Sunday for the center — the only one offering services during the day in the city — Snyder gives the credit to others and a higher power.

"This is one moment where we can show everyone how God has blessed us," she said, standing in the foyer of the 7,600-square-foot building on 25th Street. "To come from working out of a back of a car to this. This is a blessing."

Snyder, from St. Charles, joined the School Sisters of Notre Dame, a teaching and missionary order. She served in several area schools before arriving in East St. Louis in 1974. In 1985, she found her true calling when she began work at the Holy Angels homeless shelter for women and children.

The two jobs are similar, Snyder said. Both are about bringing out potential. "When you see homeless people, you know God did not intend them to be at that level forever," she said. "All they need is a little encouragement and opportunity."

Then came 1990, with fewer nuns and fewer schools. It looked like she was going to get assigned elsewhere, so she left the sisterhood and got a degree in social work. "I made vows to God, not to an order," Snyder said.

In 2001, the city's emergency management director reached out to providers like Holy Angels to determine how best to help the needy during disasters. The Metro East Weather Crisis Task Force was born. That took Snyder to the streets, handing out food and water in ice storms and heat waves.

Within two years, the task force incorporated as the Continuum of Life Care Center charity. A host of volunteers regularly brought food, medicine and necessities to the homeless and near-homeless. Working out of a tiny office on State Street, they began helping with educational, employment and housing needs.

All the while, John and Joan Vatterott, who founded Vatterott College, donated to Snyder's charity work. The University City couple met her 30 years ago during a church retreat.

"We naturally insulate ourselves," said Joan Vatterott, 64. "If you're comfortable, you want to be more comfortable. Her life is the antithesis of that. She doesn't think about comfort. She doesn't think about tomorrow. She's all about the forgotten."

When the Vatterotts sold the college in 2003, they asked Snyder what she needed. She told them more space, and they helped make it a reality.

PaulynHouse has laundry facilities, showers, a kitchen, a medical exam room, meeting rooms and a large common area. The space allows counseling and employment services.

The land was donated by former dairy owners Al and Mary Delores Wurth, with whom Snyder used to teach. Some furniture was also donated, but the charity is still in need of everything from kitchen appliances to cleaning supplies. Sunday's event also served as a plea for money to sustain the charity and help it grow.

Snyder told the crowd. "It's a dream that I have with so many people."

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Old Motel Will Shelter the Hard-care Homeless
Jim Casey
Peninsula (WA) Daily News

PORT ANGELES -- Serenity House will take a new aim at hitting a moving target: Put the target into permanent housing.

Seen another way, how can you treat substance abuse, a brain disorder or physical illness in a person who's living on the street?

From a third perspective, how can you stop a homeless person from using the Clallam County jail as a motel or Olympic Medical Center's emergency room as a clinic -- both highly expensive alternatives to what Serenity House has in mind?

That idea is taking final form at 535 E. First St., in Port Angeles, where crews are refurbishing 13 units of what once was Aggie's Motel.

Serenity House expects to open them in August to what are termed chronically homeless persons -- persons whose alcohol or drug dependency, mental illness, or chronic medical condition has prevented them from finding a safe, stable home.

"The idea is to move toward a housing-first model, a harm-reduction model," said Laurie Kross, Serenity's single-adult shelter director.

"Instead of forcing people into shelters or treatment or jails, we're giving them a roof over their heads."

The idea is new to Clallam County, but not novel for western Washington.

Seattle has 640 such units in its downtown district that are credited with reducing problems for and with homeless people.

"Over time, people started drinking less," Kross said last week on a tour of the Port Angeles units.

"Their health certainly improved."

Tenants will pay 30 percent of their income to stay at the former motel that Serenity House has renamed the Tempest Building -- even though "that might be 30 percent of nothing," Kross said.

The agency will find them with the help of social service organizations, veterans groups, jail supervisors and the Peninsula Community Mental Health Center.

Once they move into the refurbished units, tenants can stay as long as they wish, providing they follow what Kross called "stringent but limited" rules.

Also, "we will gently encourage taking advantage of support services," including treatment for addictions, brain disorders and illnesses, she said.

Many tenants already will be in case management from those agencies, and Serenity House will provide a coordinator, a case manager and a residential aide/lobby clerk.

Time was when people down on their luck could find boarding houses or residential hotels that were lowly but, generally, safe.

"It seems funny that we'd be trying to recreate something like that," said Kathy Wahto, executive director of Serenity House.

"This is something that nobody is building anymore, but that meets individual needs.

"A tenant can move in and say, 'This is something I never had when I was out on the street. Now I have my own place, and it's not a cardboard box.'"

Kross said it will put people who need help in a place that they -- no longer homeless or transient -- can get it.

"Special needs housing in this county -- there hasn't been any," she said.

"This is a start -- a small start, albeit -- of a needed service."

Supportive housing units at the Tempest Building will be available to people who are chronically homeless.

Serenity House listed 225 such individuals over the past three years, of whom:

  • 31 percent had diagnosed mental illnesses.
  • 48 percent were chemically dependent.
  • 18 percent had co-occurring disorders -- brain disorders and addictions.

Of the Tempest tenants:

  • 60 percent will come from the streets.
  • 40 percent will come from emergency shelters -- primarily residents of the Serenity House Single Adult Shelter, but also including persons given short-term motel vouchers by local churches and social service agencies.

Transforming 13 rooms of the old Aggie's Motel to supportive housing units was "an amazing transition," said Laurie Kross of Serenity House. No bearing walls of the 60-year-old building were moved, but "we gutted it down to the studs in here," said Lester Ellis, special projects director for Serenity House. Eight industrial-size trash containers full of material were rolled away from the site, he said.

Twelve of the units are for one person, and the 13th unit could accommodate two. Each will have a Murphy bed (rescued from a torn-down Peninsula College dormitory), a plumbed kitchenette with a small refrigerator and microwave oven, a bathroom with vanity and shower, and an individual entry.

Access to any unit, however, will be through a common area staffed 24/7 by a Serenity House employee or counselor, and all doors will be monitored by DVD cameras.

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Designing Homes for the Homeless
By Jim Lewis
THE NEW YORK TIMES MAGAZINE

It starts with a plastic tarp, a woven polyethylene sheet, blue on one side and white on the other, about 18 square meters. Propped up on sticks or simply draped over whatever can be found, this becomes a dwelling; generally, four to six people are expected to live there.

Sometimes there are tents, though usually only enough for the most vulnerable - unattached women with children, for example. The tents measure about 16 square meters, or 170 square feet, and they, too, are meant to hold four to six: a family, or at least a household.

A cluster of 16 households makes a community; 16 communities form a block; 4 blocks are a sector; and 4 sectors are a camp. Four to six people in a flimsy structure measuring 13 feet by 13 feet, and next to them another, and then another, on to the horizon, a sea of blue and white forming a dense metropolis for displaced people.

There are scores of such camps dotting the surface of the planet, from Afghanistan to Poland, Burundi to Thailand, in Serbia, Nepal, Iran and Cambodia, a sort of semi-sovereign archipelago spread out around the world, managed by the United Nations and sustained by nongovernmental organizations. The people who live there are refugees, noncitizens confined to ad hoc cities, perhaps the purest form of a growing and global phenomenon: makeshift architecture, last-ditch living, emergency urbanism.

According to the UN, a refugee is anyone who has crossed an international border to escape persecution, and there are about 10 million of them worldwide, 14 million if you include Palestinians (who are considered a special case). The numbers are rough, though, and the definition is vague: a forced migration can be caused by anything from war to famine, and those who have huddled in some barren sanctuary in their own country - and are therefore officially classified as internally displaced people - are hardly better off than those who have managed to cross a line on a map.

Expanding the definition to include, in effect, everyone on the run who needs help, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees counts a total of 33 million people "of concern." Some have melted into neighboring countries; a great many have effectively disappeared. About 3.7 million make their way into camps.

Few governments want to see large colonies of destitute foreigners perched indefinitely upon their borders. For one thing, it is potentially destabilizing, since whatever conflict brought them there may well spill over; for another, it is a blight. So refugee camps are, in conception and by design, meant to be temporary, and the people who live there are discouraged from settling in.

The official position, then, is that repatriation is always imminent. But refugee crises have a way of lasting much longer than anyone wants to admit, still less to explicitly plan for. This year marks the 60th anniversary of the Palestinian settlements in the West Bank and Gaza. There have been Afghans stranded in northwestern Pakistan since the Soviet invasion of their country in the late '70s, and Sudanese and Somalis in Kakuma in Kenya since 1992.

This creates a number of problems, among them a sharp rise in overcrowding: a settlement growing at 4 percent a year - standard among displaced people - will almost double in size in 17 years, though the land allotted to them cannot be expected to increase.

The question remains whether there is anything about the design of refugee camps that could make them better. Consider, for example, the basic structure of camps: the tarp, the tent, the cluster, the grid. The fundamental unit assumes that the nuclear family is the basic unit of settlement worldwide, as it is in the Western countries from which most aid workers come. But in many communities, people live among their extended families, their tribes or their clans.

And the grid arrangement, too, replicates European notions of the rational city; it may not serve those cultures that originally organized themselves along more fluid lines. By the same token, Western notions of democratic space - each unit of housing equivalent to the next - may fit our own notions of fairness but prove disruptive to communities that are structured around an implicit or explicit ranking in honor, say, of town elders.

To take another quite simple fact, in some parts of the world people cook outside, while in others they cook inside. Some cultures make more of an issue of privacy, and some less. Some separate women and children from men, and some do not. And so on.

A deeper, if more diffuse, problem is built into the very idea of an encampment. Many refugees skip the camps altogether and make their way into capitals, like the 1.4 million Iraqi refugees who, since the U.S. invasion, have crossed into Syria. In some cases these are urban populations looking for an urban refuge; others are rural people who believe that cities are where the jobs are. Very often they end up homeless and unemployed beyond the UN's help.

The result is a kind of spontaneous urbanization that nongovernmental organizations simply do not know how to address. The numbers are startling, and the phenomenon is widespread.

Even Darfur, which most Westerners think of as desert, has three major cities. According to Alex de Waal, a Sudan scholar attached to the Social Science Research Council in New York: "Five years ago, Darfur was 18 percent urbanized. It's now 65 percent urbanized, and it's unlikely it will drop below 50 percent. Most are squatting outside the cities on land that was previously farmland or forest land or had been used for something else. They tend to be new settlements that are very rapidly merged with the cities."

And the United Nations, as is often the case, is hamstrung by the limits of its mandate, forced to pretend that the obvious is not happening.

Refugee crises are usually seen as a stark example of the more general problem of disaster relief, but it may be more useful to see them in the context of the enormous new tide of urban migration, a trend that has created at least 26 cities worldwide with a population greater than 10 million.

This has created an ongoing housing emergency: megaslums, shantytowns, favelas, squatter's colonies. There are 80,000 people living on top of a garbage dump in Manila; a population of indeterminate size - perhaps as many as a million - who sleep every night in the cemeteries of Cairo; homeless encampments in San Francisco, Atlanta and Houston; guest workers camped beside the towers of the Persian Gulf; migrant workers in the San Fernando Valley. They are all displaced people.

One might ask where the architects are in all of this, the urbanists and city planners, the people who are trained to address this sort of thing.

There is a history and tradition that includes figures like Hassan Fathy, a Cairene architect who, starting in the 1930s, trained the poor of Egypt to build homes from mud bricks; Buckminster Fuller, with his geodesic domes; and Habitat for Humanity. There are pockets of inspired practice, like Architecture for Humanity, a remarkable NGO based in San Francisco that not only builds and consults but also acts as a sort of clearinghouse for open-source design.

Along the Mexican-U.S. border, Teddy Cruz has fashioned fast, cheap and inventive housing out of salvaged materials. Jaime Lerner, a Brazilian architect who became mayor of Curitiba, helped transform it from a slum-infested metropolis of almost two million into a green and functioning model of urban planning.

Still, aid organizations tend to be wary of alternate models for emergency housing, and not without reason. Tom Corsellis, a founder and the director of the British NGO Shelter Center, told me: "We get contacted by people every week or every month. And they're often very insistent or very pushy. They usually have never met a refugee and never worked for a humanitarian organization. But they somehow have found the answer that everyone else has missed for the past decade."

He paused for a moment, then added, "But it's our problem in not being able to define clear-enough specifications to engage their research and their creativity and their capacity to address this problem."

Those specifications are endlessly severe. On the scale at which the UN operates, there is an enormous difference between housing that costs $400 a unit and housing that costs $425 a unit, between materials that can be stored for years and materials that degrade; and if you can squeeze a hundred more of whatever it is into the hold of a cargo plane, so much the better.

It is one thing to design, say, an inflatable house; it is another to realize that it has to be cheap and easily transportable - preferably by camel or mule or on a man's back; it has to be durable enough to survive extreme weather; it has to be easily reparable; and besides, how are they going to inflate it if there is no electricity for pumps? Add in security, water access, HIV/AIDS prevention, human rights and a thousand other things, and the problem becomes unimaginably complex.

Almost everyone a reporter spoke to agreed that whatever solutions there may be will have to start with local knowledge, focusing and magnifying the ingenuity of individual communities rather than applying an architectural fiat from above. There are almost a billion people worldwide who live in makeshift housing or unplanned communities, off the grid, off the economy, off the map. How will they find shelter?

The world is short a billion homes. Now all we need are a few million architects to help build them.

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Phoenix Area Hydration and Refuge Stations
by Diana Balazs
The Arizona Republic

Sixty-nine facilities throughout the Valley have been designated as places where the homeless and others distressed by the heat can find water, shade and help this summer.

This is the third year for the program with even more locations offering relief this year, said Brande Mead, a human services planner with the Maricopa Association of Governments. Those affected by the heat can find bottled water, a cool place to find shelter and other services at the sites.

"Really the purpose is to prevent unnecessary heat-related deaths from people that otherwise are homeless and living on the streets," Mead said.

Mead said homeless shelters are full every night and the program provides another resource for people to get help.

The program was launched following the deaths of more than 30 people over the summer of 2005, including the homeless and those living in homes without air conditioning. It now includes assistance sites countywide.

"The community got together and just said we really need to have some other opportunities for people during the hot summer months," Mead said.

The hydration/refuge facilities include local charities such as St. Vincent de Paul, senior centers and churches.

Blue Swadener, a spokeswoman for St. Joseph the Worker, said there were 50 heat-related deaths in Maricopa County between May and September 2007.

St. Joseph the Worker is teaming up again this year with the Notre Dame Club of Phoenix to collect bottled water. The water drive will take place from 8 to 10 a.m. June 14 at the Safeway store at 48th Street and East Indian School Road in Phoenix. Water donations will be accepted all summer. Call 602-417-9854 for more information.

MAG's Continuum of Care Regional Committee on Homelessness has developed two maps of resources available for both those in need and for those who want to help.

The first map shows where the 69 water hydration stations and refuge locations are. The second shows water collection and donation sites in the county.

Items needed include water, sun block, lightweight clothing, and hats.

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Baltimore Wants to Shut Down Homeless Encampment
Lynn Anderson
Baltimore Sun

City officials are pushing once again to remove a homeless encampment outside a downtown Baltimore church, but the pastor of St. Vincent de Paul Catholic Church says he’ll go to jail if necessary to stop them.

The latest salvos in the long-running dispute come just weeks after the city and church announced they’d come to an agreement that would allow social workers to enter the leafy park at the end of the Jones Falls Expressway to help connect the shantytown’s residents with government services and housing.

But city officials say the conditions in the camp are deplorable and need to be rectified. A recent survey of homeless people living there found that most – more than 80 percent – are likely to die within the next 7 years due to existing illnesses and poor living conditions. The non-profit that helped with the survey said the results were worse than any other homeless cluster they had surveyed, including camps in Los Angeles and New York City.

The St. Vincent parish has supported the homeless for years. Parish members refer to the park, which is church property, as a sanctuary.

But city officials are challenging that definition, as well as the church’s social idealism.

In May, officials asked the church to consider shutting down the park in an effort to encourage the homeless to go to shelters that offer medical services, job training and transition into permanent housing.

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City Counts its Homeless
and the numbers keep growing
Cold reality: As Melbourne's residential population rises,
more people are living on the streets.
Dewi Cooke
Melbourne

IN THIS weather, Melbourne looked otherworldly. Thick and dense, the fog dimmed street lights and soaked through clothes.

In the morning darkness, 120 City of Melbourne volunteers took to the streets to count one part of the inner-city's 3500 homeless population — the rough sleepers.

The Street Count, believed to be the first of its kind undertaken by a council in Victoria, was done between 5.30am and 8am across a small section of the city including the CBD, Fitzroy and Flagstaff gardens and North and West Melbourne.

In that short space of time, 90 people were found to be sleeping rough. Some were clustered under cardboard in the Flagstaff Gardens. Another person was asleep under blankets. Others were found on Spencer and Flinders streets.

Volunteers did not enter known squats, rooming houses or derelict buildings so the count was restricted to people sleeping in the open.

"If it had been a little bit earlier in the year it would probably have been a little more than that because the cold weather forces people into squats," Cr David Wilson said. "I wasn't surprised that there were 90 there and I think this is a part of the shame that a place like Australia has homeless people at all."

Most of those observed were men. In Victoria, an estimated 9% of the 20,000 people who are homeless each night are living in "improvised dwellings". The rest are living in transitional accommodation, rooming houses or dossing with friends or relatives.

Those who chose to participate were asked survey questions including how long had they been staying in their current location; how many places had they slept in during the past month and, if they were on the waiting list for public housing, how long had they been waiting.

Further surveys were undertaken by homeless agencies during the day.

Cr Wilson said that when final results of the Street Count are handed down in August, a target and timeline for reducing homelessness in the municipality would be one of his goals. Results will feed into the council's homeless policy and form the third part of its homelessness research project.

Estimates have put the homeless population in Australia at 100,000 — a figure described by Prime Minister Kevin Rudd as a "national obscenity".

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Focus on Tent Cities

The National Coalition for the Homeless News will now feature a regular Focus feature. Each Focus article will deal with a different aspect of homelessness in the United States and the struggle to end it. If there’s a topic you would like to see covered in Focus, please email swaite@nationalhomeless.org.

In some communities, people experiencing homelessness have sought shelter in tent cities. A tent city is a temporary housing facility, somewhat like a shantytown. As the term would indicate, however, tent cities are made up exclusively of tents (though these can run the gamut from the very rudimentary to cabin-like structures employing a tent as a roof). They’re also distinct in that they are sometimes established or sponsored by homeless service organizations.

Currently, the best-known tent citie s in the U.S. are Tent City 3 and Tent City 4, located in the Seattle area and sponsored by the Seattle Housing and Resource Effort and Women’s Housing Equality and Enhancement League (SHARE/WHEEL). These settlements came into being as a result of a long legal battle following the city’s shutting down of two that SHARE/WHEEL had previously established. Although 2004 county commission’s report on the Tent Cities noted their usefulness in overcoming the area’s shelter shortage, their presence is still opposed by some nearby residents.

Some other U.S. tent cities have included those erected by FEMA and U.S. Navy Seabees in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, as well as that in St. Petersburg, FL, which resided from 2006-2007 on the property of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul; and currently include Camp Quixote in Olympia, Washington and Dignity Village in Portland, Oregon. More recently, the BBC has reported the erection of tent cities i n Los Angeles in response to the current foreclosure crisis.

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Wyoming Winds is published by the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless
907 Logan Avenue
Cheyenne, WY 82001-5247
phone: 307-634-8499
fax: 307-634-9089
email: wch@vcn.com
Views expressed in this newsletter are not necessarily those of the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless, its staff or board.

Editor for this issue: Virginia Sellner.
Copyrights revert back to the author upon publication.
WCH is a 501(c)(3) non-profit agency depending upon the community for funding.
© 2008.
**In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. section 107, this material is distributed without charge or profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving this type of information for non-profit research and educational purposes only.**

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