John Penrose MP
Monday 26 March 2007
It’s Monday morning and I catch the train from Weston to the Emmaus Centre in Bristol. I’m not sure what to expect, other than what I’ve found about Emmaus from Google and what I was told by the centre manager Dave when we spoke briefly on the ‘phone last Friday. The only certainty is that it’ll be very different from the pomp and circumstance of Westminster, and that I’ll need to muck in if I’m going to learn anything.
Shaftesbury House, where 'companions' live
I arrive at the centre promptly at 9am. It’s in the Dings neighbourhood of Bristol, round the back of Temple Meads station and very deprived.
Dave gives me a briefing on what Emmaus does. They were set up in France by Abbe Pierre, a resistance hero, MP and priest who topped the lists of most admired people in France for years until his death a few months ago. Emmaus motto is that they offer homeless people a bed, and a reason to get out of it. They provide a clean, safe place to live, and in return homeless people have to sign off all their benefits except for housing. That means they’re all on the same level; everyone is equal. Then they have to commit to no violence or drink on the premises, or drugs. And they have to do 40 hours work a week in the Emmaus workshop, repairing second-hand furniture for sale in their warehouse. All this rebuilds their self-confidence by proving they can cope with normal life. But the chance to help other homeless people in the centre is a big piece of it too. Helping other people is supposed to be an essential part of rebuilding a life for many people in an Emmaus community.
The first homeless person I meet is Dylan, the centre’s dog. They rescued him from the local dog’s home, and he’s lovely. Even with their pets, it seems, they practice what they preach.
Then I’m taken to the furniture warehouse. Inside it looks like any retail shed, except that the items they’re selling are secondhand. I’m introduced to some of the staff and clients – or ‘companions’ in Emmaus-speak – and told I’ll be working on the van making deliveries to people who’ve bought furniture. I’m issued with steel toecapped boots and a green Emmaus sweatshirt, and we set off. I spend the rest of the day moving furniture with Chris and Rob. The only problem is that they’re interested in what it’s like being an MP, so I’m spending too much time talking about myself and not enough listening to them. With any luck we’ll get past this stage soon.
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
This morning I’m on the van again, this time with Chris and Billy. We’re picking up furniture which people have donated to Emmaus, rather than delivering to people who’ve bought it, so we’re visiting posher parts of Bristol than yesterday. Midway through the morning the phone rings to say there’s an important vote about casinos in Parliament on Wednesday, so I’ll have to go to London tomorrow evening. It’s a real pain having to travel 3 hours each way for an 8 minute vote, but there’s no choice. It sparks another round of what it’s like being an MP, but now I’m starting to get a few glimpses of the companions’ lives too.
Over lunch in the local café I meet Richard Pendlebury, the centre’s Director. He’s a highly successful social entrepreneur – the equivalent of Richard Branson or Alan Sugar in the charity world. I’m told he’s a genius fundraiser and inspirational leader and, when I go back to his office afterwards, I can see why. He’s got all the skills I’d look for if I was hiring a senior business person, plus a huge dollop of altruism. I’ve only come across a few similar people before, usually in politics or working for lobby groups in Westminster. The difference is that Westminster’s all talk, but he’s a doer.
Wednesday, 28 March 2007
Because Emmaus sells secondhand furniture, part of their mission is recycling. I spend the morning with Billy and Ken turning bits of wood from old pine beds into shutters for raised planters on the centre’s allotment. In between our rough and ready carpentry and the endless cups of tea, I start to get a sense of what put them on the streets, and what brought them to Emmaus too. The same causes keep cropping up again and again. Addiction to drugs or alcohol; losing a job; marriage breakdown; childhood abuse. One or more of these factors kicks off a downwards spiral, often leading to depression or some other mental illness and a sense of hopelessness too. The problem is often worse for people from highly structured backgrounds, like former soldiers, who find it harder to cope when part of their familiar world collapses.
I have to leave early to catch the train to Westminster. We lose the vote in the Commons, but the Government is defeated in the Lords. I get straight back on the next train and I’m home before 11pm.
Thursday, 29 March 2007
I get in earlier, in time for the companions’ weekly meeting on how the community is working. Their concerns range from the mundane, like whether the work overalls fit properly, to sensitive questions about how the companions are perceived by local residents and what they can contribute to the neighbourhood.
Once the meeting is over I’m assigned to the woodworking shop, where I’m given an old pine chest of drawers to clean up before it’s sold. My fellow workers are a Pole who arrived in Bristol 2 years ago without a word of English, which strikes me as extremely brave; a companion who’s been at Emmaus for 18 months and is now running the woodworking area; two people in the electrical shop, one of them stripping down old electric motors for scrap and the other cleaning, testing and servicing secondhand fridges for sale; and a gentleman repairing secondhand bikes whose motto is ‘who needs Halfords?’. While I’m sanding door handles I get a chance to chat to all of them. It’s clear that they’re all at different stages. Some of them are ready to stand on their own feet after a year or more at the Centre and are preparing to leave. Others have been there for less time and aren’t ready for independence just yet.
During the afternoon I say my goodbyes. They’re all interested in what I’ve learnt. I tell them I’ve got a better understanding of how people become and remain homeless, and a basic grasp of how Emmaus can help. I invite them all to come and visit me for a tour round the Houses of Parliament, as a way of saying ‘thank you’ for putting up with me and my dumb questions for the last four days. They seem very interested, and I’d love to show them round if they’ll come.
As I leave, I’m still wrestling with three issues. Emmaus is a highly impressive organisation which seems to be offering something distinctive and different from a normal homeless hostel. But which bits of their organisation are the crucial ones which make them better and more effective than other places? Once we’ve isolated them, how easily can the Government – no matter which party is in power – copy and apply it in other parts of the UK? And which groups of homeless people wouldn’t be helped by the Emmaus approach at all, and would need something entirely different to help them back into society again? I’m not sure I (or anyone else) have got all the answers, but perhaps I’m a little closer to them than I was four days ago.
