Advisory Council member and Lives Lived Well CEO Mitchell Giles took part in the Vinnies CEO Sleepout last month. The event is an opportunity to walk in the shoes of the 105,000 Australians experiencing homelessness.
This is Mitchell’s account of what happened:
“I set off to the CEO Sleepout on foot. I walked from Spring Hill to the other side of the Story Bridge – it was dark. Not long into my odyssey, as I crossed a road in the face of oncoming traffic, I heard someone yell "help yourself ********". Was he talking to me? Help myself to what?
A little further along, an intoxicated man looked my way and offered "it was a **** game!" Before I had time to be confused he ran up to a stationary car and retorted "New South Wales! New South Wales!" Still drunk 24 hours after the game? Somehow my bubble of security had been challenged as I trudged on.
I arrived at my ‘campsite’ to a rather surreal experience. I was given a name tag and bag. It was just like a conference, how bad can this be? I had my picture taken posing with an old sleeping bag and we listened to a series of lectures and a panel discussion. How bad can this be?
Rosie's provided dinner – cold cream of chicken soup in a cup and a bread roll. Halfway through dinner I wondered how prudent it was for a lactose intolerant person to be consuming something with cream in its title. It could be a long night.
I was given three sheets of cardboard to lie on so I set myself up under the Story Bridge. What could go wrong? We had been warned that it would rain and that the PVC pipes on the underside of the bridge were drains for the road. So I cleverly positioned myself away from the likely waterfall near the top of a small rise, on an incline. What could go wrong?
I took one of my six foot pieces of cardboard and folded it in half to create a triangular shaped 'roof' to put your head under. My more experienced companions suggested it was to protect my head from dew that would inevitably fall in the night (it didn't). I then opened my sleeping bag and set it on my bed and climbed in as I ran my tongue over my unbrushed teeth.
The first thing I noticed was that I began to slide down my bed like I was on a slippery dip. Rookie error. All the available space had been claimed so I pulled my newly acquired beanie over my eyes and settled in on my homemade slide. What could go wrong?
Now, the Story Bridge is also known as the Bradfield Highway and sleeping under it is a bit like camping between the M1 and a baseball batting cage used exclusively by aluminium bats – as the cars thunk over the metal covered expansion gaps. I did manage to drift off. At about 1.30am I awoke at the bottom of my ‘slippery dip’ and shimmied my way back up to my pillow, a rolled up coat. I tried to get back to sleep but a combination of the road noise, the batting cage and the workers on the bridge who appeared to be having a hammering competition made that very difficult.
So I sat up relieved to find one of my fellow ‘rough sleepers’ in the same position. She promptly and silently picked up her kit and walked out of the encampment. Was she showing leadership or just giving up? What would those who donated on my behalf expect me to do? What alternatives would a homeless person have?
So I stuck it out, I could not help myself. Besides it could be worse, at least I had somewhere to go in the morning.”
