8/9/2022
Written by Lawrence J. Maushard
Doug gave me his take on the group’s current conditions during a shaded though sweltering recent afternoon in a thickly wooded encampment isolated in the middle of this urban center of more than 113,000 people, with a metro region nearly four times that number, arguably the most important downstate city in Illinois.
It was a genuine privilege to spend time with Heather and Doug at their well-tended and inviting living space inside a sprawling, littered though organized encampment they claimed presently includes about 8 people.
The two partners said they were the first campers in that area from back in the spring, and had seen many people come and go since then, including “kicking out” others.
“So the homeless people, the people in the street. The ‘unhoused community’, we like to call it,” Doug explained. “They need FOOD. They need WATER. They need BLANKETS, whatever. TOWELS, you know? They need a spot for showers,” Doug added with a remarkably community-minded outlook, calmly pointing toward a semi-private enclosure for clean water overhead douching he had assembled.
“What’s the one thing that scares you out here? Animals or bad guys or what?” and got an immediate reply, “The police.”
And Doug wasn’t talking about the police as a violent force necessarily.
“It’s not that they’re the issue. They’re just not helping the cause. They’re not helping the homeless.
“There’s people coming through this parking lot to get Narcan (to reverse drug overdoses). Or they send somebody from a nearby store. And it could save their life. But I couldn’t deliver it to (the nearby big box store) or to that person because as soon as I get into the parking lot (right outside the camp) they arrest me. For trespassing on (the adjacent business property).”
Regardless of the interference, Doug and Heather said the encampment has been able to reverse on site at least 8 drug overdose cases by Narcan this year. Doug has also personally given out about 40 Narcan doses to outsiders in need, he added.
Heather told me about some recent experiences with law enforcement.
“They got myself and another young woman here. She had a warrant, and I had one for failure to appear. . . Well, it was my birthday. And I asked (the police) if there’s any way I can see the judge on Monday; ‘You know where I’m at.’ They weren’t having it.”
She was quick to add, “We’ve met some really great cops through the Peoria Police Department. Some have been really kind to us. I always thank them when they’re kind to us. But lately they’ve been on bullshit.”
One nearby business, in particular, has pushed the original encampment to the other side of its property fence and is regularly calling police whenever camp residents try to cross its parking lot.
“The get up and get out is getting old,” Heather said in a labored voice close to tears.
“I just wish for a day they would walk in our shoes. Put yourself down here for 24 hours, and see how you feel about it. We don’t try to be disrespectful or a nuisance or rude. We just wanna live, like everybody else.”
Heather has been unsheltered for nearly four years in Peoria. When I ask her opinion of the city’s leaders and its people, she replies with something close to despair and resignation but still a glint of hope: “It’s home. It’s home to me now.”
Her take regarding Peoria’s treatment of the unsheltered community concluded, “Well, I would say that if it wasn’t for JOLT Harm Reduction Peoria and Imago Dei Church and the people associated with that, I wouldn’t have anything good to say about Peoria, and how they treat our kind of people. Everybody affiliated with those two organizations have changed my perspective on everything in life.”
Doug gave me a tour of the overall encampment, which included a “lounge” area out of the sun and a work spot with various tools where he repaired bikes and other equipment.
“Flat tires, broken gear shifters, broken brake cables. Anything that’s broke, I can fix. I got most of the stuff. Can do it here. If I don’t have the parts, they’ll leave their bike here, and I just give them another bike to use for the day. I’ll go out and find the parts somewhere.”
Close to a busy highway, the encampment is often saturated by the sound of traffic. I asked how that audio presence affected their daily and night-time lives.
“Communication between Heather and myself is kind of difficult, but we’ve learned to overcome it,” replied Doug. “We come closer and don’t talk louder. We’re more direct like with hand motions. I can see her from here to there, and do like that (pointing hand towards something).
“She’ll know if I do it twice, the police are out front so we’ll go out the back here.”
(Please contact the two organizations above to arrange donations of cash, food, water, drinks, supplies [including medical & toiletries], clothing, and housing for encampment residents. Thank you.)
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