With A Homeless Man In Paris: An Inhumane System
Xavier Godinot, a member of the ATD Fourth World volunteer corps, crossed paths with a homeless man near the Paris Gare du Nord train station when returning from London one evening. He made a call to 115 for an emergency shelter, the Emergency Medical Services (EMS), and firefighters (who also do some emergency medical work in France). He came up against an overtaxed system that has turned inhumane, where everyone passes the buck. Here is his story.
Wednesday, February 7, 2018, around 11 p.m.: Returning to France after a day of work in London, on the train I am reading the 2017 UN report on Sustainable Development Goals . I note that the number of people in extreme poverty, defined as those who are living on less than $1.90 per person per day, has fallen significantly, from 28 percent of the world’s population in 1999 to 11 percent in 2013.
My wife calls to tell me that I will have a very difficult time reaching our home in the north-west suburbs of Paris because there has been a lot of snow and now it is freezing. All road and rail transport is severely disrupted. Since I’ll need to be in Paris for a meeting the next day, we decide that I should stay overnight in a small hotel near the Gare du Nord.
THE HEATING PIPE
I leave the Gare du Nord around 11:30 p.m. and head toward Lafayette Street. As I pass in front of the McDonald’s restaurant opposite the train station, I see a man lying on a heating pipe. At his side is a red sleeping bag wrapped in a clear plastic bag, and a small black suitcase with a shopping bag hanging from it.
The man is now on his knees, now lying down. He seems to be suffering greatly; but it’s as if he is totally invisible to the many people who pass by without looking at him. I continue, uncomfortably, on my path, pulling my suitcase and carrying my bag. At the traffic light on Magenta Avenue, I decide to turn back to approach this man. I do not have anywhere special to be, and I can go to bed a little later.
I walk toward the man, whose age I can’t determine. He has tangled hair. His clothes are ill-fitting and not very clean. He sometimes lies still against the grate of the heating pipe, and then sometimes moves around, agitated. He mutters some words that I cannot understand. Neither antagonistic nor aggressive, he is obviously suffering. He doesn’t have a can or bottle of wine next to him. It is very cold outside, and I can see that this man in distress is also in danger from the cold. I talk a little with him and offer to buy him a hot drink.
While we are talking, he is half sitting on the ground. Suddenly, a man who is passing by stops to kick him, saying to me, “It mustn’t be encouraged.” I ask the passer-by to stop kicking the man. We stare at each other for a moment or two, and he goes away.
GRATUITOUS VIOLENCE
I was aware before of the gratuitous violence that extreme poverty provokes in some onlookers; but it is shocking to see. It is an additional cruelty inflicted on people who live in poverty, whose suffering is not only ignored, but also totally denied. A few years ago, homeless people in Paris were doused with gasoline and burned alive by criminals.
I help the man get up. He is unsteady and walks with a lot of difficulty. I ask him to lean on my shoulder, and we go into the McDonald’s. I carry and pull both his luggage and mine. Once we are inside, he sits down at a table. I put down all the luggage and get in line to buy a hot drink. I also call 115 to get him some emergency accommodation.
On my first call to 115, a recording states that all the lines are busy and that I must call back later. After waiting in line a bit, I order hot chocolate. But because the McDonald’s is about to close in 20 minutes, I am told that they will no longer serve hot drinks.
I go back to my companion to ask what he wants to drink. He requests a Pepsi and a bottle of water. Back at the counter, I ask the server for anything hot he can still sell, which turns out to be fries. I bring my companion a Coke, a bottle of water, and a large order of fries — which he wolfs down, showing that he was hungry. Then I realise that he intermittently pours the contents of the water bottle on his left hand, which seems swollen and painful. He also drinks the Coke, all the way down to the ice cubes at the bottom of the cup.
OVERFLOWING SHELTERS
I again call 115, the reception and orientation centre for emergency shelter. This time I am told to stay on the line for a predicted wait of about six minutes. As I learn later, I am lucky, because the 115 number in Paris receives 6,000 calls a day, of which only 1,500 are answered.* I stay on the line and wait.
Finally an operator who sounds quite young asks me the reason for my call. When I explain, she asks to speak directly with the man I am calling about. As always with 115, she asks for his name and date of birth. I learn that his name is Romain K., born October 8, 1960. After they speak for a few minutes, she asks him to pass the phone back to me.
She tells me that this gentleman is recorded as having a disability and that the last time he contacted them was six years ago. I explain that he seems to be in great pain and looks unwell. I ask her to send a vehicle to bring him to a shelter. She responds that the Gare du Nord is not a good place for her to send a team because so many other homeless people are there and the accommodations are full. Instead, she asks me to go to the intersection of Compiègne Street and Magenta Boulevard to wait there with Mr. K.
GLACIAL COLD
Because it’s difficult for Mr. K. to walk. I object, asking that the team come to the entrance of the McDonald’s. She refuses and insists on the intersection. But once there, we would have to wait for the team for a good hour. It’s now almost midnight, which is when the McDonald’s closes, so we’re going to end up waiting in the freezing cold. She suggests that we wait in the train station and then go to the intersection.
A man in the McDonald’s suggests that I call the EMS ambulance, given the condition of Mr K. So I do, quickly reaching a man to whom I explain the situation. He tells me that this gentleman needs housing, not the hospital, and that I have to call 115. I answer that he is in a very bad state of health. He asks me if the man wants to go to the hospital.
I pass the phone to Mr K. and do not quite understand what they’re saying. When Mr K. gives me back the phone, the representative of EMS tells me to walk with man to Lariboisière Hospital, a few hundred metres away. I explain that Mr K. has a lot of difficulty walking. He tells me he cannot send a EMS team when a hospital is so close by, and he hangs up.
The McDonald’s closes, and we have to leave. Mr K. leans on my shoulder as I pull both suitcases and carry the bags. We are moving very slowly. I suggest that I take him to Lariboisière Hospital. He tells me that he’s not interested in that — I guess he has been there before — and he goes back to sit on the heating pipe that he left half an hour ago. Again, I see him lie on his back or on his stomach, very tired, then kneeling and pouring water on his left hand again.
“WE ARE JUST TRYING TO HELP”
There streets are almost deserted, but I notice a long-haired man and a woman in their fifties, warmly dressed, who are watching over two much younger homeless people. I ask if they belong to an association. The woman answers, “No, we live in the neighbourhood and are just trying to help.” Both had called 115 and are waiting for the van to send help for the young homeless people. They also asked for an interpreter because they do not understand the language of the two young people.
Seeing how bad Mr. K. looks, the man urges me to try again with the emergency medical service back, so I do. Again, a representative tells me that he will not send the service team for a homeless man to be dropped off in a hospital already overflowing with people in the same situation and who need housing, not health care. All the emergency systems are overcrowded, he tells me. I insist that Mr K. is in danger. Weary of arguing, the representative decides to send firefighters.
After a good while, I see a big fire truck arrive with a ladder, sirens blaring. I cross the street to flag it down — but when it continues without stopping, I realise that there is a fire a little further on. A second truck also passes without stopping; then much later, I succeed in stopping a third fire vehicle. The three or four firemen in the front open their window to listen to me. I am joined by the neighbour with long hair.
VICIOUS CYCLE
The fireman says, “We already came to see that same homeless man this afternoon. He’s an alcoholic and there’s nothing we can do for him.” My long-haired companion argues, “It’s a vicious cycle. If he stays on the street, he will drink to get warm and to forget.”
The firefighter is not convinced so my companion adds, “This freezing weather is a life-threatening risk.” I see he has found the right words — “life-threatening risk” — which compel the firefighters to respond. “Okay,” says one of them, “I’ll examine this man again.”
They park their medical van next to the heating pipe and get out. One puts on thin rubber gloves and takes Mr K.’s temperature with a special thermometer, which he takes out of his pocket. “37.2 C”, he tells us. “It’s a normal temperature. This man does not have hypothermia. So I have no reason to hospitalise him and I cannot do anything for him.”
A discussion follows between the firemen, the long-haired man, and me. The firefighters tell us that their decision may seem cruel, but that all of the accommodation facilities are overflowing and that this gentleman does not need the hospital, but rather accommodation.
This decision seems very questionable to me, because Mr K. had no real medical exam. The representative at 115 said he has a disability. His eyes and whole body show that he is suffering in distress. His left hand is injured. The firefighters have the means to conduct a more thorough medical examination in their medical van, which is made for that purpose. But they tell us that it’s not their job to take care of the homeless and that we have to call 115. My long-haired companion says he has already called 115 and is waiting for that service to help the two young people.
BROKEN SERVICES
It is now 1:15 a.m. I have been with Mr K. for almost two hours. The medical and social services are overwhelmed and are passing the buck. I stand next to Mr K., who is kneeling again, with his head and left hand resting on the grate of the heating pipe. I put my hand on his shoulder and stroke it gently, so that he feels less alone and abandoned.
At one point he stands up and digs into his pockets, from which he pulls bundles of papers. His gestures are awkward, his fingers numb from the cold, and I’m afraid he will drop his papers between the bars of the grate and lose them. But he puts them back in his pocket.
I speak for a moment with the long-haired man and his female companion. The 115 representatives told us that they are apprehensive about coming to the Gare du Nord because of the large number of homeless people there. But isn’t that precisely the purpose their service: to find accommodation for homeless people, especially in cold weather?
Also, the streets are almost empty, and we have only three people for whom we are seeking shelter. We tell ourselves that it is unbelievable that in a country as rich as France, it is this difficult to shelter people from the streets.
My companions tell me that they will wait for the 115 van until it arrives and that I should go if I wish. I thank them, convinced that they will make sure that Mr K. finds accommodation. I tell them I am going to my hotel room in case I lose it if I arrive too late. Before leaving, I embrace them, because a fleeting but real feeling of neighbourliness has formed between us as nocturnal companions facing this intolerable rejection.
DISCONNECTED STATISTICS
Back home the next night, on the World Bank’s database I look up the extreme poverty rate in France according to the definition used in the first Sustainable Development Goal. In 2013, the most recent year for which statistics are available, the World Bank calculated this rate as the proportion of people living on less than $1.90 per day. Unsurprisingly, the figure is zero percent in France, and also in Germany, the Netherlands, and Japan. This proportion is also zero percent in Poland, Romania, Slovenia, the Russian Federation, and Thailand. These statistics purport to show that extreme poverty no longer exists in any of these countries. This disconnection from reality is not only scandalous, but grotesque; and yet this deception has continued for years.
Once again, the suffering of people who endure extreme poverty in these countries is denied by international statistics that make them completely invisible and allow the United Nations, the World Bank, and other international institutions to claim that extreme poverty continues to decline in the world.
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*Figures given by Eric Pliez, president of an emergency assistance association called Samu Social.
