Strangers with no roof over their head

Hidden in the wardbrobe, Alex* covers his ears with his hands, eyes squeezed shut as if he’s trying to escape reality. In the kitchen, he could hear the angry voice of his father and the soft pleas of his mother. Promising to God he will never eat more than his father gives him, he hopes his father doesn’t find him …

Watching his mother getting drunk every second of the day, Jeremy takes the occasion to sneak out with his friends. He wonders if he should tell her where he’s going. But on second thoughts he decides that it won’t matter: by the time he’ll be back, she’ll be too drunk, passed out on the couch, to even care.

Simon has lost count of how many times he has come to this church. He wonders if anyone has noticed what he’s doing. Is it his impression, or have the collection baskets become lighter? In his heart he knows that what he’s doing is wrong. But what else can he do? His home is a two-roomer shared with six brothers and sisters. With his parents living here illegally, it’s not as if he can simply go and apply for a job. Sighing, he empties the basket in his pockets and goes to buy bread and milk for his family.

“And this is what being homeless means. It is not simply a case of lack of housing but social problems. Until people understand this, we will never be able to address homelessness,” says Charles Mifsud, co-ordinator of Dar Patri Leopoldo.

Dar Leopoldo, which forms part of the Suret il-Bniedem foundation, currently houses 12 men who have nowhere else to go. The ages range from the youngest who is 15, to the eldest who is 35 years old.

“We have also had a man, ‘in-nannu’, who was almost 89!” one of the kids tells me. I notice the affectionate nickname he uses to refer to him. They truly live as a family here.

Arriving at the Leopoldo home in Gzira, Charles and a 17-year-old greet me at the door. They promptly invite me into the sitting room ornate with Christmas decorations. A Christmas tree sits in the corner, covered with lights and tinsel with carefully wrapped presents underneath.

Introductions done and formality out of the way, Charles takes me into the courtyard. On the way, I notice another Christmas tree standing at the end of the corridor and more tinsel and red bows decorating the walls. The floors are spick and span and everything is in order.

Several chairs and a table have been placed in the small courtyard facing a home-made crib ready for a mass to be followed by a party. There is nothing fancy about the crib: handmade out of wood by the younger residents with a sign reading “I was a stranger and you took me in” – a reflection of the simple life they lead.

At the same time it reflects how hard they try to live a normal life: to try and forget their problems for once and together embrace the Christmas spirit. They help each other out, each with their own duties, but they still manage to love and accept each other as a true family.

And they not only want others to help them: they also lend a helping hand. “On Christmas Eve we’ll all be cooking food for the elderly residing in Gzira and Marsa,” Charles tells me proudly.

“Our work as carers here is built on three principles: discipline, respect and responsibility. The younger ones are victims of social problems. We try to guide them to prevent them from ending up without a job or a roof above their heads or in worse situations,” Charles explains.

His eyes reflect the dedication and love he feels for them – they are like sons to him. He admits that he spends more time with them then with his own family.

The three boys who join us are teenagers: two 15-year-olds and the 17-year-old. I admit I was impressed by the good manners they showed. Talking to the older one, I felt like I was talking to an adult. The other two were more shy at first, the younger one hiding behind the other two. His face would redden each time someone talks to him – or better when the other two would jokily tease him.

Talking to them gives me the impression that they have accepted their situation and are trying their best to build a new life. All three of them go to school, have made new friends and have future aspirations.

Asking them what they would like to receive for Christmas, the young ones wish for a laptop and clothes. The oldest one stops to reflect for a while. Pensive, he puts his hand behind his head and says: “For us to have fun and for no one to get hurt”.

*Names are fictional. Situations based on real life.