She accosted me as I was leaving the library with the children. Perhaps accost is not the right word. She walked quickly toward me, her voice raised, asking if I knew of a contact number for someone at the mairie, or town hall, which was the building right behind us.
As she approached, I could make her out better. Dusk was falling, but I could see the long grey hair, one half of it held in a ponytail at the side of her head. The other half lay lank on her shoulder. Her eyes were deepset and worried. She spoke to me again, and I could see that most of her top teeth were missing. Her shapeless clothes covered a body certainly more petite than mine.
"Do you know how I can get in touch with the mairie? They gave me a place to stay, but they cut off the heat. I'm an SDF."
SDF. Sans domicile fixe. Homeless.
"The doors are locked but I can still see people working in the offices up there." She pointed toward the second-floor windows.
I said that I didn't know how to contact them, but that there was someone in the library who would have a phone number.
She continued ranting. My daughter hovered near me. The woman talked about sleeping outside for a month and a half. About walking all over Brittany. About freezing her ass off. About walking 30 kilometers last night so that she wouldn't freeze to death. About having paid taxes in this country, and now she happens to be down on her luck, but that no help is forthcoming.
"They're assassinating the people!"
I just listened. Walked with her to the library, and showed her where to find someone.
As we parted, she said "Excuse me. I'm just fed up."
"That's okay," I said. "Best of luck to you."
The children and I walked away. C., who's nine, said "What was she talking about?"
I explained that she had nowhere to live, that she had been sleeping outside.
"Outside?!" my son exclaimed.
"Yes," I replied.
He continued. "But how can you sleep without a blanket?"
Good question. How can you sleep without a blanket?
I don't know, and neither do my children. And we are lucky. I can't be fired. I get paid every month, so I can pay my rent. The other day I complained about not having one cent to my name. But I have a father who's helping me, a steady job, food to eat, and for that I am thankful.
Later I was thinking about that woman, thinking I should have offered to help her. At the time, the thought didn't cross my mind. I could have given her the four euros I had in my wallet. I could have offered her a place to stay for a night. All I did was lend an ear. I hope it helped her.
As I was writing this, I got a phone call from my friend Dan. He's American, and he and his wife Laure wanted to invite us for Thanksgiving. More on that later.
These moments, rare as they are, bestow perspective and that is good. Happy Thanksgiving. NB: how do people in a country famous for social services become so desperate? How did that woman get to that place?
Posted by: J | November 22, 2004 at 15:19
I wish I knew. I wish I'd asked her.
Posted by: Alison | November 22, 2004 at 15:20
From your description of her, it sounds like she might be mentally ill.
A lot of the homelessness in the US stems from untreated mental illness, sometimes exacerbated by alcohol and drug abuse.
Posted by: Allan | November 22, 2004 at 15:53
She got close enough to me that I could have smelled liquor on her breath. There was no such odor. Of course, that doesn't mean anything.
Posted by: Alison | November 22, 2004 at 16:23
nicely described.
your post the other day led me to dooce where i read for a couple of hours, thankyou.
also, has anyone in france lost their job because of their blog?
job security here IS a million times better. not that i have a proper job.
Posted by: madame l. | November 23, 2004 at 01:23
Hi Ali,
One of those moments in life that makes one wish for a rewind button, if only to go back and say something sufficient to let the other know that you really do care.
I am also frequently a little slow on the uptake, and find myself thinking afterwards of the things I could have or should have done. It shames me to say that this never happens to me in a situation governed by conflict. Only when compassion and a generous spirit are required................a sad reflection.
Posted by: WallaceHartley | November 23, 2004 at 01:41
Oh, and besides RP I am a Groove Salad listener as well..........and then Mystic Radio, Radio TamTam and Tabla added make up my total listening bouquet.
Posted by: WallaceHartley | November 23, 2004 at 01:43
You gave her something no amount of money could buy; An ear to listen, a face to see, compassion where she thought she'd find none. Being thankful sometimes starts with the most simple things, and I bet she is thankful that you were there. Just there.
Posted by: Thomas | November 23, 2004 at 08:32
Thomas, that is exactly what I was going to say (but better worded), thank you.
Posted by: Daisy | November 23, 2004 at 10:14