STREETLIFE

Sleeping on the streets is a fate we pray we'll never have to face. But for some it's a way of life. Annette Crummack and Nikki Cryer took to the streets to discover the grim realities facing the homeless...

Annette's experience...

Mac is a dour Scot in his sixties and a familiar sight around Westgate Road. His beard reaches his chest and his face is purple from over 20 years on the streets. He told me that the only way to know how it is to live on the streets is to do it. "No-one can know unless they've lived it," he said.

Nikki and I spent just half a day on the streets of Newcastle city centre, and for me it was half a day too long. I felt conspicuous and vulnerable, dressed in my most decrepit gear and without a scrap of make-up but I needn't have worried. No-one took any of notice of me. Crouched on a bin-liner outside of the Central Arcade the crowds of Christmas shoppers swept by me without a glance. Huddled outside of Monument Metro Station they tripped over me. Curled up in a doorway on Grainger Street they were oblivious to me. Or so I thought.

When I gathered the courage to lift my head, I started to look into the faces of people approaching. Inevitably, their eyes did fall on me, and just as inevitably they balked at me blatantly eyeballing them and hurried past. (I must admit, hanging onto that eye contact longer than they wanted felt rather satisfying.)

The one person who took the time and trouble to hold my gaze even managed an awkward smile. I think I tried to return it, but after nearly three hours on cold pavements my frozen face could portray little more than a grimace. "What could you do with a fiver?" He asked softly as he passed.

A few minutes later the bloke came back: a well-dressed handsome 50-something.
"What would you do for a fiver?" I'd misheard him the first time.
I snapped a furious response, grabbed my carrier bag and headed for the station.
Game over.

Mac was right. Unless you've lived it you can't know. I haven't lived it, not even for half a day. Thank God I haven't lived it. I don't even want to know about it anymore…

Nikki's experience...

For just a few hours, I got a hint of what it would be like to be a beggar-just a hint. Now, I'm back in my warm home in the company of friends, and the few hours I spent on the streets of Newcastle seem a million miles away. What I did come home with was a feeling of shame. I had stepped into the shoes of a homeless person and couldn't wait to get back out of them.

It's hard to explain the impact it has on you when people walk by glancing down at you with looks of disdain on their faces. The first thing to slap you in the face is-where have all the good people of the world gone?

And what about those who cope with this type of lifestyle on a daily basis? It can only be a living hell. Suffering at the mercy of loneliness must be one of the hardest factors facing the homeless, without family and friends, only a seemingly heartless public is left.

Like so many, I've walked past countless beggars and looked away to save myself from feeling bad. Pretending I haven't seen them, blocking them out. But they, like us, need the warmth of human nature and a passing smile does no harm at all.

The reality is hard. No, we can't give money to every beggar or homeless person we walk past: we don't know whether that money will feed them a meal or a habit. What we can do is be supportive towards those less fortunate than ourselves.

Do we really believe that the majority of homeless chose this fate? The painful truth is that most of them didn't. It's through misfortune that so many have ended up on the street and just because they have no address doesn't mean that they're any less human. One more numbingly awful point I would like to make is that it could happen to anybody.

Go to the next page for Michael's story - A 28 year old father of three who has been spending his life homeless.