by Jennifer May, Ireland’s Big Issue
It’s a cold Wednesday night. Most people have settled down to relax after a hard days work, but in Liberty Christian Church, Ardee Street, Dublin, seven dedicated people – known as the Stew Crew – are busy preparing sandwiches, coffee, tea and other snacks, which will be distributed from their van to those marginalized by homelessness and addiction in Dublin’s City Centre.
As well as the hand of friendship (and the Stew Crew are genuinely friendly and irresolutely concerned for the people they make contact with) there are sleeping bags, jackets and other necessities to give to those who need them; all funded by the church itself, and its growing congregation.
“The Stew Crew came about seven years ago through a chap named Wayne O’Reilly, who felt he needed to help people at a grassroots level,” explains Josh Lawler, current leader of the group. “Our aim on the street is to let people know that somebody cares; to give them hope for a better future. Morale is very low and people don’t see any way out and that’s what drives them to drink, drugs and life on the streets.”
Will Coakley is busy making sandwiches. A friendly, upbeat young man, who has been involved with the church for two years, he understands the problems accompanying substance abuse, having had addiction problems himself, before finally turning his life around. Like the rest of the Crew, he finds personal fulfilment in “giving a bit back” and believes times are particularly hard for people at the moment. “Lately we have seen a lot of couples on the streets,” he explains. “People can’t afford to keep their house, pay mortgages … their bills.”
Sandwiches made, provisions packed, the Stew Crew pile into the van setting off for the city centre. A quick prayer (nothing fancy – just a humble thanks to Jesus for allowing them the opportunity to help) and a few jokes from Tom (who has worked on stage as a comedian all over the world) and they are soon setting up shop on Marlborough Street, a spot where drug users and the homeless often congregate.
People are slow to arrive. It’s raining and there is a police presence at the top of the road, so Michael Coyle and Will take off up Abbey Street, to let people know they are there. Pretty soon people trickle over. Most of them are young (under 40) and most of them are clearly under the influence of either drugs (often the prescribed drug methadone) and/or alcohol. Stew Crew members keep the sandwiches, instant noodles and hot drinks flowing, but many of the clients seem as interested in a chat as they are with the food, and are greeted warmly by the Stew Crew, with whom there is a friendly rapport.
Michael has a broken arm and fresh stitches on his head, from a recent beating which he can’t remember. He suffers from epilepsy and is just out of hospital after a prolonged stay. He doesn’t come for the food, he says, just for a chat and a bit of company. Michael says he is a reformed drinker, who is separated from his wife and children. He still seems confused from his headinjury, but has a cup of tea and talks to the Stew Crew, who seem to know him well.
Patrick takes a pot of steaming noodles. He has been on methadone for years and is now also a chronic drinker, getting through a couple of bottles of vodka a day.
As the rain continues to fall, a passer- by approaches to say that there is a man unconscious at the end of the road. Eamon goes to see that he is alright and, bringing him back to
the van, patiently coaxes him awake and pours him hot soup. Pretty soon the man lapses back in semi-consciousness on the pavement, but he is not in any danger, and Eamon keeps a discreet eye on him.
“The people on the streets now are not just homeless, they are spiritually broken; shattered,” says Eamon, who has been working with the Stew Crew for two years. “It can be hard emotionally at times, but it is also so rewarding. I have my debt crisis, my mortgage to pay, but when I leave here I can go home to my house. Doing this puts my own problems into perspective.”
As the evening progresses more crowds arrive, some for sleeping bags, because they will be sleeping rough. Many are young women, most underdressed for the cold wet night, and one young woman – emaciated and with weeping sores and infections – looks like she is in need of immediate hospital care. A large majority are on methadone, separated from their children and the tragedy of difficult and often abusive lives is visible on their faces: almost all talk about their desire to be drug-free.
When it is time for Stew Crew to pack up, the streets empty out as, like ghosts, the crowds dissipate into the inhospitable night. Driving back to the church I can’t help thinking that there is something terribly wrong in a society where so many people are left to fend for themselves in such dire circumstances. But at least there are people who care, and who are reaching out to those less fortunate. And I realize that those small gestures – that cup of tea, a chat and, crucially, that listening ear, are not really small gestures at all.
First published in Ireland’s Big Issue 30 July 2012
