An Afternoon Journey

I found myself heading out last Sunday to the Downtown Eastside (DTES), for my first real Vancouver 2010 Event: The Poverty Olympics.

Parking in my usual alley off Hastings and Columbia, I walked past a man hurriedly zipping up beside a dumpster as a rat scurried along the wall. I mused on how much it must suck not to have a warm, private, place to go to the bathroom, as I passed the harm reduction site where I work on the days I’m not at Regent.

The community garden next door boasted cardboard cut-out hearts sticking up from the plants with encouraging things written on them by community members. Beauty amidst the mess. Next door on the other side was a porn shop, blazing posters and X’s, for all to see. Gotta appreciate the honesty of DTES addicts.

Heading over to the waterfront, I passed a poster that read: “Solidarity in the Face of Police Repression.” Enough said there.

Moving along, I walked past Oppenheimer Park, still gated shut for “Upgrading,” or so the graffiti-covered sign read. The neighborhood was deserted, boarded-up windows shielding the lone girl on the corner from view. Her skirt was higher than the bruises on her thighs, and she shivered in the rain. Just then a Lexus SUV pulled up. I chuckled to myself at the poor lost upper class driver, who must be afraid and alone. Alone? The smile disappeared off my face as the girl negotiated her price through the window before getting in. I hoped she had a condom.

After walking a bit further, I finally heard the cheering that told me I had reached my destination. The Poverty Olympics were held by a number of different community groups in the DTES, and involved as many people as they could. I was given a banana and bag lunch at the door, and gratefully accepted as I was now cold, wet, and hungry.

As I ate, I learned a few new things, like that the DTES has Canada’s highest child poverty rate in Canada, and that the HIV rate in the DTES beats out even Botswana. For the most part though, nobody needed the statistics. The kids playing in the front row could care less about the math, they only knew their own reality.

Despite all the sobering statistics, or the fact that the games were opened with a moment of silence in memory of all those of the community who had passed away, the event was actually quite cheerful. People have a way of finding joy amidst all the crap they go through.

Two mascots, Itchy the Bedbug and Chewy the Rat, opened the ceremonies as MCs. They apologized for the absence of their third compatriot, Creepy the Cockroach, as he had slept outside the previous night, and police had escorted him to Abbotsford. Jovially, they told us a replacement Creepy would be here soon – police hadn’t taken the costume.In the meantime, we could enjoy some cockroach cake together and watch the "torch" being brought in.

I laughed until my sides hurt at the spectacle provided; older homeless women attempting “Housing Hurdles” are surprisingly funny. We also watched cleverly named players like “Alexander Eviction” and “Guy LaFlatBroke” play hockey, and people wearing Harper and Campbell masks do the “Broken Promise Slalom.” The highlight of the afternoon was “Wrestling for the Community,” where DTES kids wrestled a big condo developer who, with help from a shady character labeled VANOC, brought the kids down and (fake) kicked them. The kids got up, though, and with the cheering of the crowd reaching a crescendo, worked together to bring down the developer and stop gentrification. As Itchy told us, it may be a fairytale, but it’s one worth telling.

As I walked back to my car, cheerfully chatting with my DTES friends, I realized that it’s the community here that brings any sort of hope to what would otherwise be a very depressing place to live. There is redemption in community, which may not overcome the worst that the streets have to offer, but at least ensures that you don’t have to walk them alone. My friends were all headed to watch the Superbowl; a local business was letting people in for free. I needed to go home and get some assignments done before I returned to work the night shift, though, so we parted ways. Fulfilled in more ways than I’d expected, I headed home.