We call them the “unhoused” - politically correct jargon that distances “us” from “them.”
To say the poorest of the poor are “unhoused” too easily slips past the mind; the conscience; the heart. “Unhoused” carries no weight: “The place sold faster than we thought it would, so until we buy another one, I guess we’re ‘unhoused.’ ” Imagine yourself and your children “unhoused.” “Unhoused" is a term that disguises the fear of having nowhere safe to sleep; of being “unwanted”; of having no sense of “community” other than one pock-marked by unhappiness, shame, and addiction.
While there’s a correlation between homelessness and addiction, the numbers aren’t as high as you might think. Varying from year-to-year and place-to-place, the numbers are fluid. Do all who are homeless have an addiction problem? Absolutely not.
A 2023 Nanaimo survey reported that 22 per cent of those surveyed were homeless because of addiction. Frame this any way you want (The number should be higher! Lower! Define “homeless”! Define “addiction”!), but within our tight little community of Oceanside, it’s a fact that many “invisible” adults and children lack food and shelter. They beg on the streets; squat outside parking lots and shops; collect refundable cans. Do we see them? Perhaps with our eyes; too seldom with our hearts.
Some sleep in the bush, in tents or exposed to the elements. Some use public washrooms and showers. I’m not in the least critical of that. Yesterday, I found a woman’s jacket, a candy wrapper, and a small child’s toy behind a dumpster in Parksville. The crumpling and placement of the jacket suggested it was a make-shift pillow.
Oceanside has a Task Force on Homelessness. It’s a pity Parksville Mayor Doug O’Brien withdrew the city's support last autumn, after its liaison task force member didn’t feel “respected” for the view that Parksville neither wants nor needs a homeless shelter. Well, that’s a pity.
It smacks of politics taking precedence over poverty.
Nicole Parton
Qualicum Beach
