RODNEY WHITE/The Register
Hard night: Matt Witt sleeps in one of the downtown Des Moines bus kiosks about 2:40 a.m. Tuesday.
People & Places
'I want to make it'
By BILL REITER
07/18/2003
Gabrielle Slocum, homeless two months ago, sits in her room at Iowa Methodist Medical Center. It is July 13. Her daughter, Alisa, born the night before, sleeps soundly in the nursery down the hall.
Gabrielle, 21, dwells on the things behind her and the things to come: life on the street, an apartment she can barely afford, no money or diapers or formula.
Cowboy, her boyfriend, has been kicked out of her apartment, and she must take care of Alisa on her own until they find a new place to live. Gabrielle still has her Social Security check, she says, though little remains after the rent is paid.
So much to think about.
"Sometimes bad and tough things happen so we can learn to be strong," she says.
Gabrielle hopes she can take her suffering and mistakes and turn all of it into the strength to give her daughter something better.
"I know God is there, watching over us," she says.
****
Matt Witt has no place to go.
The 19-year-old called Congo is barred from the Churches United Homeless Shelter for 30 days.
A few days after Gabrielle's baby is born, he talks a friend into giving him a place to stay. The buddy met Congo at the shelter last year.
But soon, after a $200 PlayStation2 game console disappears, the friend asks Congo to leave.
Back on the streets, Congo walks around downtown Des Moines with nowhere to go, past a bleeding woman who says her boyfriend hit her, past homeless men, some as young as he is, to hidden places he sometimes uses for shelter.
He insists he wants to change, can change. Will change.
But there's no changing right now. He just needs a place to sleep. On Walnut Street, Congo lies down in a bus kiosk.
A young man is sleeping on the bench next to Congo. The young man jumps up and screams, "Never be the prey. Always be the predator!" His eyes bug from his head.
"I'll never be the prey," Congo says. "I've been on the streets too long."
Both lie down. Puffing on his cigarette, Congo looks up. Then he closes his eyes and sleeps.
At about 2:41 a.m, Congo begins to snore. Then come the murmurs, his head twitching, his leg twitching.
A bad dream he can't wake from.
****
"I'm in jail," the girl says. "I'll go to the facility, complete the program. I don't want to be homeless anymore."
Michelle Ackelson smiles. She looks better. Three meals a day and a place to sleep have an impact, even in the Polk County Jail on a parole violation. She'd been placed on parole after a theft charge.
As Gabrielle's baby enjoys its first days in the world, as Congo wanders Des Moines, Michelle keeps waiting. She hopes to be transferred to a minimum-security facility soon. She hopes, after five years, to break the cycle of the streets.
"I've been trying for years, and it didn't work out," she says. "I don't know whose fault it is. Some of it's been mine.
"Hopefully, I'll go to school, become a computer technician with my own place. And married, with a kid. And rebuild a relationship with my family, with my grandma. I feel bad for hurting her."
She smiles again. It's a nice thought. Five years from now, away from here, she sees a better life.
"I want to make it," she says.
Time's up. Michelle turns, wearing pinstripes, and returns to her cell.
****
Zack won't let go of the street.
He allows friends from the woods to live in his apartment. They punch him, steal from him, mistreat him. Finally, he tells them to leave.
Some go quietly. Some don't. Many are angry when Zack kicks them out, and some promise retribution.
The night before Gabrielle has her baby, Iowa Homeless Youth Centers outreach worker Howard Matalba drives a group of teenagers home.
One is a homeless youth named Mike. Mike has been at Zack's place for more than a week, and his time there could get Zack into trouble.
Which makes Matalba angry.
"I ain't playing now!" Matalba yells, the van driving through the dark. "If you get him kicked out, he's going back to the woods, and he's getting his butt kicked!"
"I ain't doing nothing to nobody," Mike snaps.
"You're doing something," Matalba says. "You're getting him in trouble, and if he gets kicked out, you're talking life and death. If Zack gets kicked out of there, he's a dead man."
A few days later, Zack wakes in his bed. It has no sheets, but he feels rested.
Mike is gone. A new homeless person has taken his place.
Zack walks outside to smoke a cigar.
"I've been running around trying to figure out my life," he says. "I just don't know."
But why risk everything? Why fight to get away from the street, and then invite the street back into your life? Why let people into your apartment who endanger everything you've strived to have? Why not let that life go?
Zack has no answer.
Instead, he puffs on his cigar and smiles.
****
Gabrielle Slocum sits down in her dingy chair, looks down at her sleeping child and fights back the tears.
Silence hangs in the apartment, except for the whipping of a fan. Alisa Sky Arlene Slocum, 3 days old, doesn't stir.
Cowboy has been barred from here. For now, the parenting falls to Gabrielle.
"I'm very scared right now," she says. "Mommy's overwhelmed."
Workers from the Department of Human Services will visit tomorrow. Gabrielle is confident she can keep Alisa. Still, she worries.
"I'm determined to do whatever it takes," Gabrielle says. "I'm going to give her a better life than the one I had."
Gabrielle Slocum, her baby sleeping, the past pressing down, will try.
