‘Sleeping rough: What will it take to solve Australia’s homelessness problem?’

It was a Wednesday half way through January. My wife and I had decided to take the train to Sydney to see the satirical movie Jo Jo Rabbit. Armed with our Opal cards and plenty of time, we headed for the theatre in Broadway.

The movie was every bit as good as all the reviewers had said. It totally sent up the Nazi regime, with Jo Jo’s imaginary friend being Adolf himself.

The movie finished around 2pm, so we decided to take one of Gladys’s new billion dollar trams to the Quay for a late lunch. Our tram was very slow, averaging only 30 kilometres per hour. Not surprising really, as people were walking across the tracks, seemingly oblivious to the long red train of tramcars.

Lunch was at one of the many cafes around Circular Quay. There was not too much smoke from the bushfires, so we had a good view of the ferries and the odd cruise liner reversing out of its berth. Tourists hurried by, some wearing masks, while an Aboriginal group entertained the crowd with some powerful didgeridoo music.

We decided to walk all the way back to Central to dissipate some of the lunch calories, so we turned up Macquarie Street, passed Parliament House, then turned into Pitt Street. We strolled through the mall section looking into shop windows and stopping occasionally to listen to some talented guitar players. All had their instruments highly amplified, with one muso competing with another in decibels.

I happened to glance to my right and noticed a girl asleep on the footpath, her back against a shop wall. Her head was on her puffer jacket, which she used as a pillow. An old blanket covered most of her body, except for a tattooed arm, which she had around a small brown and white dog of uncertain pedigree. It too was sound asleep, which was amazing, given the cacophony of noise in the Pitt Street mall. There was a silver metal dog food dish near its tail. Empty.

The girl looked about 16 years old. Judging by her skin colour, she was sickly. She had a small cardboard box near her elbow. It contained a number of silver and gold coins dropped in by some sympathetic passers-by. I took a step closer, mentally counting the coins. There was not enough money there to feed the dog and its owner. I wondered which of the two was going to be fed that evening, and so I felt in my pockets for some coins. No use putting in a note. Either the wind would blow it away or some heartless drongo would steal it.

I counted $4.20 in coins and bent down to put them in the cardboard box. Quietly, so as not to wake either sleeper. The girl and her canine companion slept on. I straightened and we continued our walk towards the station. At least both girl and dog should be able to afford a meal now.

As we walked, I began to speculate about homeless people in Australia. Official statistics tell us there are around 140,000 without a home, 87,000 in New South Wales alone. What makes a 16-year-old homeless? Was she kicked out of home by an abusive mother or step-father? Was she addicted to drugs? A school dropout? A dyslexic with ADHD? Did she have mental problems?

Yet the homeless problem keeps growing. Too many state governments ignore it.

There are no votes in homeless people, as they are most likely not on any electoral roll. No votes too often means no action, and yet the problem is too big for charities such as the Wayside Chapel. What is needed is a government with compassion in its soul, instead of a focus only on the bottom line. I hope, before I shuffle off this mortal coil, to see some of this compassion.

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