‘No job, no money, no social welfare, no food’

By Noel Baker

Thursday, April 09, 2009

The queue at the Capuchin centre is growing weekly. Noel Baker talks to those desperate for food

THE first man in the queue outside the Capuchin Day Centre was standing in his spot from 7am, and his mood, perhaps understandably, was not the better for it.

"You look along the queue and see how many Irish nationals are in it?" he said. Referring to the presence of foreigners, he said: "They should not be here in the first place. When we had hard times in the past there this [place] was always open, seven days a week. The bags are a quarter the size they used to be — you could live on one bag a week four or five years ago. The publicity has not helped, it has attracted more people."

As more people joined the queue waiting for their food parcels, the man’s early start began to make sense. Having worked since he was 14, at the age of 59 he now receives disability benefit because of his prosthetic leg, which he tapped occasionally as he spoke. He was here, he said, out of "complete necessity", while the man next to him, older at 75 years and with silver hair, said of others in the queue: "Some of them are dressed like millionaires."

There was also opprobrium for the Government and Taoiseach Brian Cowen, with the first man declaring: "Look at what he has done, in his designer suits, he took the Christmas bonus, which in my case is e200. It is the rich staying rich and the poor getting poorer. It is the worst cut ever."

Another man further down the queue was even more blunt: "It is the bloody immigrants that are robbing the Irish."

Behind them, a few feet down the line, stood a woman from Rialto, with unsteady speech and a sweet smile emerging through black, tombstone teeth. She said she had been receiving the food parcels for the past five years, and that "only a couple of months ago you could walk in and get your food". The food parcels were also handed out three times a week in the past, she recalled.

"Sometimes people who do not need food come in and get a second bag — they change their clothes and all that," she said cheerfully.

Yards behind her stood a knot of Poles, comprising two older men, a young woman and a 27-year-old construction worker who said he had fallen on hard times.

Following two years of work on the sites, work had fallen away, he said, and he was now awaiting a decision as to whether or not he will receive social welfare.

"No job, no money, no social welfare, no food," is how he summed up his lot. He also had little time for the argument that foreigners are milking not just the welfare system, but also the Capuchins’ generosity.

"Everywhere there is a recession — it is the same situation. It is normal everywhere."

The queue featured a number of Brazilians, among them two women and a trio of students from south Brazil here studying English.

"The less we spend the better because we need to survive until at least the finish of the course," said one of the students, a 23-year-old, while his friend said: "Everyone needs to eat."

Along the line there was at least a football team quantity of Brazilians, as well as Poles and Slovakians. Another Brazilian, also a student, said Ireland had been rising to the top and that this was "the first big freeze".

For every hulking type in a tracksuit who looked capable of giving someone a dig, or the student clasping on iPod headphones, there were plenty others for whom this has been, or will become, a weekly fixture.

Among them is the mother married to a man on disability and who was up at 6.30am to make the queue.

She recently lost her menial job, she said, but said the blame for her predicament was that a three-month conviction for an offence committed 14 years ago when she was battling alcoholism could not be expunged from her record. This was her first time visiting the Capuchin Day Centre.

"I read about it in the paper and I rang the friars," she said. "They told me to come along. It is as I expected."

Struggling to pay a mortgage, she said she was trying to keep the worst of the family’s financial troubles from her 13-year-old son.

"He’s got all the hormones and everything to go through any way," she said. "We have no food on the table. He has to go without. His Playstation might be there but I cannot buy him games for it."

As the queue began moving, a painter and decorator out of work for three years, Terry, said "people have to live", no matter where they’re from. "You are going to get a lot of people like that," he said of the Irish who voiced frustration and bitterness at foreigners receiving parcels. "I was born a Christian, so I take a Christian view of it. I would be more liberal," he said, adding that he can remember when there were only 50 or so people in the queue.

"Fair play that Brother that runs the place," he said. "I come here every day for my dinner."

James, an artist who belies his 59 years by dressing like a member of an early ’80s punk band, makes a few bob by selling prints of his work every week. It wasn’t only his happy demeanour that indicated that he may have had a few drinks. He declared the queuing situation "unbelievable". More people were coming, he said, because they needed to or because they had heard about it in the media. He, on the other hand, has been coming in for 15 years.

By 9.15am the queue still extended down to the gates opposite the Jameson Distillery building, but it was moving more briskly. Marshalled by John (who describes his new role as "an eye-opener" for him) and Gerry, the queue was orderly, reaching the entrance to the day centre before those waiting were sent to one of two doors. Inside, the eight-strong team were busy working their way through the dispensing of 670 bags. Last week it was 500 and they were all gone, with people still coming to the door.

Carmel O’Reilly from Phibsboro was one of the helpers yesterday, a veteran of 22 years’ service at the Capuchin Day Centre. Each of the bags contains tea, biscuits, milk, pizza, pasta and other products, all worth between e25 and e30, and even as the supply dwindles more bags are being prepared. After last week, it’s a case of forewarned is forearmed.

"It is very sad when someone calls and you don’t have any bags left," Carmel said. "But we never turn them away, we would get them something from the deep freeze or bring them in for a cup of tea."

Past the boxes of Barry’s Tea and through the kitchen, where food is being cooked for the regular eat-in clients, Br Kevin Crowley sat quietly as the morning hubbub died down. When not talking about Cork hurling, he spoke purposefully about the changing faces of those coming to the day centre.

"The majority of people would only come here because they need it," Br Kevin said. "Our policy here is that we do not get into their private lives."

"When Irish people went to England they found it difficult to get a job, and a lot of people coming here cannot get a job. If people need food we will help them — that is our policy."

Indeed, foreign staff help run the kitchen and work behind the scenes. In recent weeks the flood of donations has also increased, but Br Kevin said that centres such as the Capuchin facility, operating since 1969, should be funded entirely by Government. At present its running costs top e1m annually, with just e450,000 provided by the Government, and the rest made up of fundraising and donations.

"In the long view I would hope and pray that we would see an end to people coming here for food, but how long that is going to take I just do not know," he said.

This story appeared in the printed version of the Irish Examiner Thursday, April 09, 2009