Hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets of Dublin last weekend as the GPO took centre stage for the Republic's celebration of the centenary of the 1916 Rising.
Capt Peter Kelleher of the Defence Forces read the Proclamation of Independence reminding all of its pledge “to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts”.
By Thursday, however, the reviewing stand, the bunting and flags had been taken down. In its place was a very different vista as spectators were replaced by the homeless.
They lined up for soup and sandwiches at rehab centre Tiglin’s No Bucks bus, a specially-equipped mobile cafe that provides services on the streets of Dublin and the surrounding areas.
However, there is hope, too in the form of Tiglin volunteers. Derek Lynch (38) from Ballyfermot had a drug problem for 23 years, eventually ending up homeless.
“I didn’t use hostels that much because every time I went I was constantly seeing what I was trying to get away from. So I became homeless. I served a prison sentence from 2011 to 2013 and I was clean all that time I was in prison.
“I was three weeks out when I relapsed again and that was when I really came to my knees. It was the worst it had ever gone,” he says.
Then he came across Tiglin, which has residential and day programmes at its Arklow centre for addicts. At any one time, it can have up to 67 people.
“They told me they had a bed for me. That was nine months ago and things have been great since then.
“I have my family and kids back in my life again. Getting off the streets was the number one thing.
“Initially, getting clean and physically well again was what my intention was. But that soon changed. People started respecting me and I started respecting people. It completely changed my life around and the way I was thinking.
“I now serve soup to people I used to sell drugs to. They knew me as the drug dealer, or as the heroin user, or as the armed robber, but now they see me as this, and they’re asking me for a phone number for this place. That encourages me because they know I’m out of it now.”
Tina Kelly (34) from Ballymun says she “got mixed in with the wrong crowd” after losing her parents and her brother.
“I ended up doing heavy drugs and couldn’t pay the bills with my addiction so I gave up my house and went homeless in 2011,” she says.
“I was sleeping in doorways and robbing people, you know? I don’t remember anyone like these people going around helping homeless people out. I couldn’t afford the hostel. They were looking for €4 a night but I needed my money for drugs.
“It was a struggle. I wanted to get clean and a woman saw how desperate I was and brought me down to Tiglin. I went in there in 2013 and I’m three years clean now. I’m mixing with good people – people in recovery.
“I’m working with homeless people and when you do that you get a flashback of where you came from. I tell people where I came from.
“They’re able to talk to me and open up, because it’s very hard for that girl out there to be on the street.
“It’s always a battle to be out there because you don’t know who’s going to come up and do something to you. You’re terrified. I’ll always remember the day I was stuck on the streets with nowhere to go and no money to get food.”
Overcoming addiction
Anthony Fermoyle (32) from Drimnagh also suffered from drug addiction and was “in and out of prison”.
Today, he helps run the Tiglin bus. “I overcame the addiction with a lot of help from these guys,” he says.
“A lot of people we see now are people who lost their jobs, couldn’t pay rent, and the only thing that will keep you warm on the streets is a bottle of vodka or a bottle of whiskey. That starts the spiral of addiction.”
For 26-year-old Dubliner Stephen, his years living on the street were peppered with a string of criminal convictions, following a “very abusive” childhood.
Remembering those days, he says: “He’d break her teeth and rip her earrings out. Early memories are just of a lot of violence at the house. My dad would collect the welfare and we would be left starving.
“When I was eight or nine, my ma took us out of the bed with all the bags packed. My da was in bed and she was going to leave. I then started screaming for my da because we were leaving.
“He woke up and came down, got a knife, and sliced all the bags open. He broke my ma up, and then made tea and went back to bed while she was unconscious on the ground,” he says.
Later, his mother tried to leave again. This time, she succeeded. Stephen and his family spent a decade in the UK before returning to Dublin when they became homeless for a period of nine months.
“We were trying to get rid of the name that we had before,” he says.
“We would get a lot of abuse. People called us scum and dirt bags, and I got very angry and violent and wanted to defend my family.”
When his five-year-old sister was knocked down and killed by a bus, his mother turned into an alcoholic “that day”, he says: “So we had nobody, I was off on my own robbing cars – doing mad stuff.
“After my sister died, my da started coming back around. He was still on drugs but I started getting to know him because I needed a da. But then he overdosed and that was tough again,” he says.
From there, he descended into more serious crime, spending years in prison.
“I robbed a Mercedes and was chased in it when I was 15. I got five years for that. I was always drinking.”
He took cocaine from the age of 10. In jail, his habit got worse, not better.
Today, he has been helped by Tiglin for the past nine months. Only now is he learning to cope with his past. “I’m learning how to deal with stuff,” he says.
“I go to bereavement counselling and I’m dealing with the damage – emotional damage, a lot of violence, a lot of anger, hatred for the world sort of thing. Now I’m getting calm. I have empathy for people. I’ve learned to let go of stuff.
“It’s powerful. I do humble things now. I don’t want to rob anyone. I want to help people now. I learn how to cook meals, keep rooms clean, and be disciplined.”
