Since moving to Toronto, I've encountered many lower class and poor people. Mostly I don't pay attention to them and they ignore me. I don't give money to homeless people. I'll donate money to homeless shelters or soup kitchens at times, but I don't give money to the people directly. It's sad at times to see the kinds of people who live on the street.
One day on the streetcar, one homeless gentleman kindly moved his stuff off the seat beside him so I could sit down. He was very polite but I'll admit that cultural conditioning made me feel uncomfortable sitting beside him at all. I took off my gloves and he tried talking to me, mentioning how he used to have 6 pairs of gloves but they got stolen, etc. I made a comment about it being too bad, and then pulled out my book so I could ignore him in the politest possible way. I couldn't help but feel worse for this guy because he must have had Parkinson's or something. He couldn't control his body - he was shaky, his head kept jerking in my direction, etc. I can't help but wonder what kind of life he has had to end up where he is now.
When I first moved here, a homeless woman came on the streetcar one evening and announced very loudly, "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, I haven't had anything to eat in 3 days and am starving," and then she proceeded to go up to every person in the car begging for money. Again, I wondered what her life must be like, to have to debase herself so much as to make announcements like that - it must take a lot of courage, and humiliation, to have to do that kind of thing.
When I mentioned this occurrence to my friend Michelle, she told me that she knew of the woman and that the lady was only really after money for drugs. I didn't really argue with Michelle because let's face it, that's the case at times, but I couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was just being too cavalier about the subject, or just biased.
Last night while I was waiting inside the streetcar stop (just a 3 sided shelter with clear walls to protect you against the wind), the same black woman came in. I assumed she would ask me for money and I strategically turned away so I could ignore her until the moment came. I could see her reflection in one of the windows. She was muttering and smoking. I saw her squat down and I assumed she was just cold and wrapping her arms around herself. But then I heard a splat, splat, splat sound. I thought she was throwing up or something, so I glanced backwards. That's when I realized she had copped a squat, pulled down her pants, and was peeing inside the shelter.
I was horrified. There were a gazillion other places nearby where she could have urinated and the fact that she chose to do so in the shelter with me less than a meter away totally freaked me out. I barreled out of the shelter and was relieved to see the streetcar coming. By this point, I was disturbed at even standing next to her. We both got on the streetcar and I managed to secure a seat by myself. (I was terrified that she would try to sit beside me.) A bit of the way down the street, she started licking her hand - like a dog would. Bit long wet smacking laps up and down her fingers. Thankfully she got off at a stop before I did.
The whole occurrence really disturbed me. Obviously the woman was high/strung out/whatever and Michelle was right. I just wonder what happened to bring the woman to such depths that she would urinate in a shelter right beside one of the most busiest intersections in Toronto. What kind of events could bring someone so low? It's seeing things like this that really makes me appreciate the life that I've had and continue to have.
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