A Little Change

So this is the preliminary draft of my anthropology project. Read it and let me know what you think in the comments below? Please and thanks!        

      “A little change? Can you spare a little change?” This was a common thing to be heard on State Street not that many weeks ago. Now all the cup shakers have either left, or they are out there selling the Street Pulse, the homeless newspaper. The idea of interviewing the ones that are left, and gaining a peak into their lives was both exciting and a bit scary. Some of those guys are pretty rough looking. What I learned was eye opening. In the words that follow, I will recap my encounters with these “homeless” and examine their motives and the motives of the people that give their money to support them.

Of the three homeless people that I approached, only two of them accepted my advance to interview them. In fact, they seemed to welcome it with pleasure. The other was openly hostile to me. I dropped a dollar in his cup and asked him if I could ask a few question for my class and he absolutely refused with no slight of angry words. He was the only person I came across on the entire street that was shaking a cup.

            The first man that agreed to let me interview was very personable. He introduced himself as Abe. He seemed to know everyone that passed. When I asked how he knows everyone, he explained that he’s always out there, so he knows everyone. The guys that are out there every day have developed a community.  They help each other out. Another guy interrupted us and asked Abe for a few bucks so he could go get a sandwich, and Abe gave just pulled it out of his pocket like it was no big deal.

            Seeing Abe just hand over money prompted my next question. I asked him if people were generous, and if he made enough money out on the street to live on. According to him, he makes enough for him to live on, and enough to pay his girlfriend’s rent. Some people are generous and some aren’t. He then told me a story about him and a group of his friends that received thirty dollars from a random stranger to go get burgers. To me, it is all about the communication. Abe doesn’t even have to say anything, just make eye contact. I think that little bit of eye contact is enough to make people feel some sympathy for him.

            My next question was to inquire as to how he ended up on the street. His answer was fairly straightforward. Abe is trying to stay out of jail. Begging on the street and selling the homeless paper is a better alternative to him than doing the illegal things that repeatedly landed him in jail.

             I was almost done with my questions when a couple of guys walked out of Mia Za’s, a little restaurant. Abe pitched to them his little line about help the hungry and support the homeless; buy a Street Pulse. They just ignored him, but Abe would not be ignored. He started yelling after them about all the food they had in their hands. He came back to me, and he started yammering on about how people come out and buy all this over-priced food, but have no sympathy for the hungry right outside the doors. In my head, what he was currently saying was contradicting with what he told me earlier.

            The other man that agreed to answer some questions for me wanted me to call him Joe. Before I could even get a question out, he started in on his life story. He refers to himself as a migrating worker.  He says he’s too proud to beg. He’s an ex-oil driller, but was laid off when the oil dried up in Texas. That was five years ago. He was on his way to Montana but ran out of bus fare in Madison, and this is where he stayed. He doesn’t sell the Street Pulse, but prefers to find odds and ends here and there.  He takes out the trash at bars and pulls in the carts at a nearby grocery store all for a few cents. He says most days he makes enough to live on.

            Joe said he was part of a group last year that called themselves “Occupy Madison.” It was a tent city from what I understand. He said there were over a hundred residents and dozens of tents. They used electricity from a nearby street lamp. He claimed that the camp was finally shut down because the mayor didn’t like the group, but I can’t help but wonder if it was a safety reason due to the tight concentration of people.

            Both the men told me of the police crack down on cup shaking. They said it started about six weeks ago. The people the police arrested disappeared. Abe thinks that they were bused to Chicago. He is under the impression that the mayor wants them all gone. They offer bus tickets to Chicago for almost nothing, but only one way. The government doesn’t want them back.

            I asked both of them what the government does to help them. I received the same answer twice. Nothing. The government wants them gone, and it doesn’t care whether they die or leave, just as long as they are gone. All they receive are food stamps, and even those are being cut back.

            These men lead a hard life. They are masters of taking advantage of people. They feed off the consumerism that fuels State Street. They know that when people go to State Street, they go there to spend money. They know to stand outside of the stores that are expensive. All these homeless people have developed a fictive kinship. They are a tight-knit community. They all know each other, and they help each other out.