literally another aussie in london

jrod helps the homeless part 3

Finally everyone left the kitchen, probably because there was real work to do, and the head cook told me all about how Christians always help Muslims, but Muslims never help Christians, I tried to tell her this was not true, well I did tell her it was not true, what a waste of breath that was.

We started feeding them after that, and that went well. One guy came in with a full plate, put it in the bin, and asked for another plate, we gave it to him, later I saw him throw that out too.

A few asked for seconds, the older ones just wanted the meat or the vegetables. One guy came in to complain about the salt, he didn’t like sea salt, the other shelter had proper salt. I resisted any urge I had to tell him to fuck off to the other shelter.

When everyone had finished, I took out Apple pies, it would be fair to say that they no one really wanted them.  3 of the 12 or 13 ate them.

The one decision I made was the apple pies, and it failed, perhaps if I kneeled before Jesus more often I would not made such a mistake.

It was ok though, as there were heaps of “helpers” in the kitchen at that time, so they ate the pies.

This should have been the easiest part of the night, the cooking serving, and cleaning had been done, but the Christians wanted to give me a show, and a show they did give me a show.

It all started with discussions over the fact their church needs a new Priest. A loud red haired lady (3 pies) started it off saying that she wanted the young priest who had filled in a few times, because he was ‘well fit’.

The head cook chipped in that she didn’t care who it was as long as it was a man.

The forewoman, proving she did have some intelligence, said she would love it if it was a strong black woman was the priest as a role model to her children.

She was then abused by pretty much everyone in the room, luckily this quickly turned to mocking her opinion. She deserved everything she got though, as she was eating the spaghetti in the kitchen, even though she was the person who said that I wasn’t within the spirit by not eating with them.

Then the African women started saying that if you don’t want a woman as priest, you must vote, as we cannot let this happen.

Someone decided to chip in with, “what about a transsexual priest”, which actually started the African women shrieking instead of talking.

That died down, and red haired three pie woman put in her two cents, “what about a Chinese Priest, Father Chong, Father Ching Chang Chongy”.

I know.

And everyone laughed, well except me and the forewoman, she was too busy eating her hypocritical spaghetti.

The father Chong shtick went on for about 15 minutes, I shit you not.

It only stopped when the gentleman greeter popped his head in to say he was off. When he left the forewoman said that he had greeted two people, and then gone off for the best part of two hours to get one of the people foot cream.

They all went on about how useless he had been, even though for the whole time we were there, there was generally between 5 and 10 people in the kitchen, that could have gone in and helped.

The night was almost over now, just had to wait for the over night sleepers to turn up and relieve me.

There were a painfully middle class couple, who, I promise, brought their whole duvet set, mauve if I’m not mistaken, two pillows per person, and a spare blanket.

Generally the people who stay over night sleep in the same room as the homeless, to look over everyone and make sure there is no problem.

This couple slept locked up right in the office, which mean them being there was mostly a ceremonial position, as they couldn’t really overlook anyone.

When they got there I pissed off quick, I couldn’t wait to get away from these people.

I was only there for 3 and a half hours, yet by reading this you would think it was a year long adventure.

I did come away with a two things, Church going Christians really are as annoying, racist, sexist and full of themselves as I always thought they would be, and that homeless people are pretty well dressed.

The next week I had to come back and sleep over night, I was not looking forward to it.

Surprisingly.

TBC…

March 12, 2009 Posted by Jrod | living in london | christians, food, homeless | 2 Comments

jrod helps the homeless part 2

I move back into the kitchen, and help the head cook, which is when the skinny old woman with the beanie, and no known title, comes in to make sure we have something for the vegetarians.

Vegetarians?

This isn’t a restaurant lady, they is homeless, they take what they can get.

No, not even a little bit, one is a Muslim, so can’t eat Pork, and two others are vegetarians.

I can’t decide what is worse, someone who, even though they are on the street, still holds onto an ancient ruling about pigs, or the two wankers who won’t eat what ever they are given because they don’t like meat.

I decide the vegetarians, but only just.

The head cook is flummaxed by this development, but it isn’t that hard to handle, they just don’t get the bolognaise, and get more vegetables, problem solved.

It’s the cooking time of the food, so there is little to do, so the head cook and I start chatting, against my better judgement.

She asks why she hasn’t seen me in church, I tell her its because I’m not a Christian. “Not a Christian, why not, not baptised?” “Not baptised, don’t believe in god, don’t like religion, etc”.

Yes I actually said etcetera, not sure why.

Somehow through all that she only hears, not baptised. “Why you not baptised, are your parent’s not Christian,” “Well my mum is, or was, but I suppose they thought I would grow up and choose my own religion”.

She seems very confused by this, she then asks me how I found out about the church, I tell her that a guide told me about it, she goes to the church, and sings in the choir. She asks which one, so I explain it to her the Sri Lankan with the curly hair, “Oh yes, the mixed race one”, “Um no, she is Sri Lankan”.

Then a woman comes into the kitchen, she is short and round, and is wearing something that has been slaughtered, maybe a panther, or a giant Tasmanian devil. The head cook can’t wait to tell her, “Gary (idiot, my name was written down) is not a Christian”, the woman who is wearing what is left of an animal say, “He is here helping the needy, he has good in his heart, that is all God wants”.

That seemed to put an end to it, even if I heard the head cook say “yes, the mixed race one in the choir”.

From then on in various people came into the kitchen, for no real reason, and they were all told I was not a Christian, one asked “If you are a Christian, why are you helping?”, “ I didn’t realise you needed to be a Christian to help people”.

It should have got better from there, the cat was out of the bag, I was not a Christian, and I knew mixed race people.

It didn’t. The forewoman needed me for something, and came in and said “sorry, what is your name again”, “Jarrod”, “Oh that is right, why can’t you have a simple name like Frank or Paul”.  I looked around the room at that moment, there were 5 women from Africa, only one had a name that by any account was simpler than Jarrod, and I would say that if Jarrod is not a simple name, you should donate your tongue to science.

Around this time the majority of the homeless people turned up, and let me start by saying, these were snappy dressing homeless people.

Mostly early 20s, cool looking, not drugged out or starving, in fact until you got near them, you didn’t know they were homeless. By get near them, I do mean they were a bit stinky, but no worse than me on the way home from indoor cricket.

They were also very nice, polite, calm, and good to deal with. Although to be fair I was comparing them to the Christians, so they were always going to look good in comparison.

The ethnic balance of the homeless was interesting. Muslim, Sub Asian, West Indian, African, Polish, Irish, American and if I was not mistaken, one was left handed.

There were even two girls, both cute. All I could think was that if I was a cute girl I’d never be homeless, I’d be a hooker. These girls obviously had more morals than me, more fool them.

TBC…

March 10, 2009 Posted by Jrod | living in london | christians, food, homeless | 3 Comments

jrod helps the homeless part 1

That is right, I helped the homeless.

Twice.

Yes, I am a good person, thanks for noticing.

I found out about a church at the end of my road that were running a Friday homeless shelter for the winter.

As you know Fridays are colder than normal days, and your average homeless person doesn’t mind sleeping out on a Tuesday.

So on this Friday I go out and buy spaghetti, herbs and apple pie as so designated through organisational phone calls.

I make the decision on the apple pie, I figure if I was homeless, a nice warm desert would go down great.

Before I headed off, I made myself a couple of steak sandwiches,  I want to be properly fed before I I feed others.

I take my bags of food and I head down, I don’t think too hard about what I am wearing, jeans, t shirt and my green coat. Fairly standard for me.

I arrive at the hall out the back of the Church, and knock on the door, and skinny old woman with a beanie on answers the door, and before I can say anything she says, “Sorry we are not open…”.

I know what she thinks, she thinks I am fucken homeless, me in my favourite 5 quid jeans, black t shirt, black cap, military coat, scruffy hair and unkempt appearance looks homeless to this woman.

Fair enough, but still not the best start to my adventure.

I interject as she says open and say, “I’m here to cook the food,” I hold up the food, and she looks confused, but lets me in.

I introduce myself, she doesn’t, I then meet the other cook, the head cook, who does introduce herself.

Her name comes from an English grandmother directory, even though she is from Uganda, or Somalia, fuck I’ve forgotten, definitely Africa.

After introducing she says, “thank god you are here, we thought you would not come”, “I thought I was supposed to be here by 630?”, “Yes yes”, “but it’s only 615”, “Yes”.

I deduct from this conversation that this is going to be a long night.

The cooking mostly goes well, for some reason our head cook decides to put the frozen bag of vegies on first, even though they only take 5 minutes to cook, it takes forever to work out how to turn the oven on for the apple pies, and I have to cut cheese with a knife that is as sharp as a spoon.

Then the homeless start arriving, the first one sort of looks like a Frank Miller thug, he has a scar across his face that could have come from a knife fight.  He asks if he can come in even though the place doesn’t open till 7, I can’t see the harm in that, so I let him in, and he says “If the others say anything, I’ll take the heat”.

I quietly ponder if his face should used as the face of knife crime.

Straight after an older gentleman turns up, he assumes I am in charge, and starts asking me what to do, I look at him blankly, but he keeps asking, his job is too greet the homeless people as they come in apparently, not sure how I can add to that job description.

Behind him is the forewoman of the event, she seems sharp, especially when compared to the others, and I help her put out the tables and chairs for everyone.

I ask how many people are coming, she says 12, i suddenly realise we have set up 20 chairs, I start to take them back, “no no, we have to eat with them too”, “but I’ve already eaten”, “that isn’t in the spirit of it”.

Is it not?

I would have thought that eating the food I prepared for the homeless people is not in the spirit of it.  I am glad I don’t have to eat with them, not because they are homeless, but because I don’t want to eat with people I don’t know, regardless of where or how they live.

TBC…

March 9, 2009 Posted by Jrod | living in london | christians, food, homeless | Leave a Comment