On the streets
Kevin
Walking down the posh end of Parnel Road yesterday afternoon, would have been barely 10 degrees. I was feeling the cold and wondering where the spring had gone. Fifty paces in front of me, walking in the same direction was some bloke with bare feet, wearing what I thought was a skin colored T-shirt. Turns out he had no top on. I ran to catch him, snuck up behind and shot a couple of back on picks ... a gutless attempt at good photograph, so drew up alongside, tapped him on the shoulder and asked the question ... “Why the no shirt, and aren’t you cold?” He replied ...
No man, I’m off to the chemist to get codeine because I’ve got the flu.
Didn’t make any sense to me. I told him this was a great opportunist moment for a photographer (which probably didn’t make any sense to him) so would he let me shoot a quick pic. It’s always a 50/50 request, with no being ok and yes being a bonus. He agreed with a half nod. Kevin was his name, he didn’t look cold and his finger tips were as white as the whites of his eyes.
Moa
Moa’s Head is always drooped, with eyes caste downwards towards his feet which are usually bare, though today he was wearing unmatched holey socks). I’ve photographed him before, always in downtown Auckland city, the ‘hood’ for many of the unfortunate homeless who somehow survive on the streets.
Conversation is near impossible because to every question asked there is a one worded semi muffled indistinguishable response, combined with a nod. I passed him in Fort Lane, fortuitously close to a good abstract background wall I had spotted only an hour earlier. I stopped for a chat.... “Hey Moa, how you doing man, would love to get another pic of you, remember last time, a year ago, I lay on the Queen Street pavement in rush hour and photographed your feet!” He remembered, obliged with a nod and very slowly shuffled back along the road with me to my wall.
A white van was parked illegally, blocking it completely from view. So having the will that most photographers possess I quickly found the driver...
“Mate there’s a photo shoot happening here, do you mind shifting your van please.” Moa wasn’t comfortable lifting his head higher for my pic, I think because it bought his eyes into view... where there was nothing but absolute sadness. Three years ago after I first photographed him I remember asking him where he slept ...
Anywhere I can lay down.
Then I asked where he was from ... “Nowhere in particular.” Moa is just one of a rapidly growing number of homeless in Auckland city. It’s a tragedy.
Bingo
“I’m more scared of living than I am of dying.” Bingo told me, with his classic Cockney Michael Caine accent. We crossed paths yesterday in Cuba Street, he was sitting playing harmonica and minding his own business, seemingly knowing everyone who passed by. His yarn telling skills were second to none and with 69 years under his belt he had a few!
Back home in London I used to work in a banana factory. The boss said he didn’t care if we smoked pot as long as we got the job done.
I asked the obvious question ... “What do you do in a banana factory?” Simple answer ... “Unpack bananas that came in from the boats. Got bitten by a tarantula once. Was a big bastard about the size of a small dog!” His recall of the past was infinitely better than mine. “I remember my first joint, Lebanese Gold it was. I must have been 16. There were all these sheila’s and blokes in the nude (and two gorgeous blondes who wanted to go out with me but I didn’t know what to do), a mix of skinheads and us scary grease bikers. I wore black leathers and lots of badges”.
There were a few rough and tumble times. “I had 7 tons of shit beaten out of me by by the Richmond Hells angels who wanted me leathers, we were all on ‘mandies’ and acid so I never felt much. The copers threw me and me mate, both bleeding, in the boot of the cop car and delivered us to hospital. I remember being stretchered to the theatre and seeing a sign saying ‘Crematorium’ and thinking ... fuck I’m dead!” (must have been good acid). He loved being photographed, then hurriedly excused him self .... “Have to go now, don’t want to miss Coronation Street replay, I’m addicted.
Tessa
first met Tessa at the City Mission in Newtown. We arranged to meet yesterday at 10.30. She was there on the dot, waiting in the sun.
I’ve been coming here for 26 years, they’ve been good to me and I can give back. I like to help others living with mental health issues.
Her eyes were blue and caring. “I’m of Christian faith, and believe in myself. I love a lot of people. My smile is free. Its not hard to be kind.” She knows her way around a piano too. “I play at the Mission 3 days a week, plus at a few retirement homes.
There is such healing in music, it calms people so they can exercise their minds.” We talked about her childhood. “I was adopted at two months old. My foster parents were kind to me. I remember when my brother had his birthday I would always get a little present too and made a fuss of. My real mum was from Tahiti, her name was Violet.” (I thought what a beautiful old fashioned name, you’ll not meet a Violet this day and age). “She died aged 94. My real dad Roger, was a Pitcairn Islander.” She talked lots about the Pitcairns. “Everyone’s heard about Mutiny on the Bounty, Fletcher Christian, Captain William Bligh and all that stuff. I’ve a big Pitcairns Flag in my home.”
Tessa is a Housing NZ tenant in a block of flats nearby. She’s a gardener. “I’ve got paua shells all through my garden .... they are so pretty. I love flowers and growing things, so look after all the other residents gardens, one of them gave me this sign which I take with me everywhere I go. It sums up how I feel.” She told me it has batteries on the back, so lights up. As did her eyes when she explained this to me.
