I had an interesting experience this holiday weekend... It made me 1) want to move away from Philadelphia, 2) really tired, 3) concerned for the well-being of a fellow citizen, 4) angry, and 5) think.
1) My cousin and I decided to get some late night cheesesteaks... We were fine- wiz/with, birch beer, and cheesefries aplenty. Directly after calling for a cab to bring us back to my apartment, we notice the guy with whom I was discussing latino culture and some buddies run down the street to chase some people. Next thing we know, one of the group who ran away (the smallest- must have weighed 100 lbs.) was lying on his back in the middle of the street with blood streaming from the back of his head and from his mouth. He looked like he was dead or dying.
2) After calling 911 and watching the kid get pulled from the middle of the street, the paramedics and about 5 cop cars arrived on the scene. They took care of the kid, and began asking if anyone would be willing to give a statement. My cousin, I and the victim's friend Muhammad were the only witnesses to go with the police. We hadn't seen much. After spending over three hours at two different police stations, the cops ignored us and seemed to forget about their promise to drive us home after it all ended. We were in an unkown part of town, with no way to get home. After hearing that the closest cab was 5 minutes - 1 hour away, we started walking, caught a bus then the subway back home. When we got there, it was 8:30 Am, and we both just wanted sleep...
3) Turns out that the victim was ok. He needed stitches in his head, but was going to recover.
4) As I fell asleep a little before 9, I swore to move out of this town with run-down police stations full of overworked cops.
5) Who knows what I'll end up doing, but experiences such as these make one think about what can and does happen all the time...
-until next time,
Kevo
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
Jim
So I haven’t written for quite a while, mostly because I’ve been busy with other things… Now, though, I have something to say:
I’m currently working part time as a basic skilz teacher at a mental health services agency in Philly. It’s a place that inspires, teaches, and confuses me. One story explains how- Jim’s story. First, learn some background:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deinstitutionalisation
and with a little more opinion thrown in:
http://www.psychlaws.org/generalResources/article22.htm
I teach 3 classes and spend time at the agency three times a week. I arrive, and Jim is standing outside. We talk for a few minutes – his mood can be negative, middle-of-the-road, or some combination of both. He smiles sometimes. I don’t mind talking, having a short conversation. That conversation always centers around him, and usually has to do with the number of people who asked: “How’s program going today.” He counts everything; the number of handshakes he’s gotten, the number of times he’s been blessed after sneezing, and the number of introductions he’s been given are all important aspects of each day. I’ve started to expect this conversation. I know of what it will consist, and have begun starting it on my own. He tells me that his counselor asks him to meet a certain number of people each day before he goes home. His counselor is the one who tells him to be more outgoing and engage the world. His counselor, who doesn’t exist, is the one who tells him to stand outside and talk to people and count all things observable. Its not that he hears voices, its that he uses the counselor as a way to legitimize his actions. As long as I think it is his counselor who asks him to be around, I will talk and hang out. If not, I won’t. Jim was released from his program about eight years ago, and ever since he spends every day at the front door of the agency counting what he sees, who he talks to, and therefore, how that day has gone. Jim has nowhere to go, no one to talk to – he misses the program.
When I was told that he no longer is a part of the program, I felt a bit used. I probably stood and talked to him because he would often mention that he’d be killing himself soon if someone didn’t ask him about the program that doesn’t exist. So I asked him about program. I thought about Jim. Could I work with him and help him? It made me happy when he smiled, and overall, I would say that Jim is a nice guy – troubled, yes, but kind. The area around the front door of the agency is a better place than any other in the city for him. This is a shocking story that pulls at one’s heart, but it’s also confusing. Why does it make a difference whether he’s in the program or not? Why did I feel used when I found out the truth? Will I continue to talk with Jim, or will I use his lack of an official program as an excuse to ignore him as I walk into the building?
I am not sure.
So I haven’t written for quite a while, mostly because I’ve been busy with other things… Now, though, I have something to say:
I’m currently working part time as a basic skilz teacher at a mental health services agency in Philly. It’s a place that inspires, teaches, and confuses me. One story explains how- Jim’s story. First, learn some background:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deinstitutionalisation
and with a little more opinion thrown in:
http://www.psychlaws.org/generalResources/article22.htm
I teach 3 classes and spend time at the agency three times a week. I arrive, and Jim is standing outside. We talk for a few minutes – his mood can be negative, middle-of-the-road, or some combination of both. He smiles sometimes. I don’t mind talking, having a short conversation. That conversation always centers around him, and usually has to do with the number of people who asked: “How’s program going today.” He counts everything; the number of handshakes he’s gotten, the number of times he’s been blessed after sneezing, and the number of introductions he’s been given are all important aspects of each day. I’ve started to expect this conversation. I know of what it will consist, and have begun starting it on my own. He tells me that his counselor asks him to meet a certain number of people each day before he goes home. His counselor is the one who tells him to be more outgoing and engage the world. His counselor, who doesn’t exist, is the one who tells him to stand outside and talk to people and count all things observable. Its not that he hears voices, its that he uses the counselor as a way to legitimize his actions. As long as I think it is his counselor who asks him to be around, I will talk and hang out. If not, I won’t. Jim was released from his program about eight years ago, and ever since he spends every day at the front door of the agency counting what he sees, who he talks to, and therefore, how that day has gone. Jim has nowhere to go, no one to talk to – he misses the program.
When I was told that he no longer is a part of the program, I felt a bit used. I probably stood and talked to him because he would often mention that he’d be killing himself soon if someone didn’t ask him about the program that doesn’t exist. So I asked him about program. I thought about Jim. Could I work with him and help him? It made me happy when he smiled, and overall, I would say that Jim is a nice guy – troubled, yes, but kind. The area around the front door of the agency is a better place than any other in the city for him. This is a shocking story that pulls at one’s heart, but it’s also confusing. Why does it make a difference whether he’s in the program or not? Why did I feel used when I found out the truth? Will I continue to talk with Jim, or will I use his lack of an official program as an excuse to ignore him as I walk into the building?
I am not sure.
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