Osaka homeless

My daily cycle ride through Osaka castle park and its blue-tarpaulined tent village is a daily reminder that Osaka is the homeless capital of Japan. Cats doze on the rooves of shacks, dogs wander under the trees, and the inhabitants busy themselves collecting mountains of tin cans which they pile precariously high on their bicycles. The freezing winter must be a struggle to survive, but now the days are warmer the men sit outside their homes, playing chess and eating lunch. There are very few young men, the majority are middle-aged, their weather-beaten faces lined by the sun.

I’ve cycled through these villages of the ‘homeless’ in the dead of night and never feel threatened. Their houses are ingeniously made out of discarded materials, and lovingly maintained. The plots of land are clean and tidy and the park’s toilet facilities are nearby to keep clean.

Despite the constant threat of eviction by a local government eager to improve the image of the city (cf. a recent spate of evictions to make way for the World Rose Convention), apartment-dwelling Osakans and their marginalised counterparts appear to live in relative harmony. The spring blossoms brought thousands of picnickers to the parks and tree-lined waterways of Osaka, and for a few weeks Osakans squatted in clusters around the blue tents and enjoyed the sakura as the homeless went about their daily business. The communities live side by side, but very little exchange happens. It’s as if each side tacitly agrees to ignore the other.

Passing through the encampments my emotions range from sadness, at the plight of these men, many of whom were family men on a payroll before times got hard, and admiration for their dignity and the pride they take in their environment. At least life for these tent-dwellers seems more pleasant than that of the plight of the homeless in Nishinari-ku, a district near Tennoji in southern Osaka, only 20 minutes from Namba, where men sleep on the dirty streets smelling of stale piss, with enormous piles of rubbish lining the streets for the rats to go through.

When I heard friends were growing a ‘solidarity vegetable patch’ in a tented community in a park near Tennoji I was looking forward to joining them and meeting a few of the people who live so precariously.

I had to ride through a labyrinth of fences to get to the encampment as the authorities had hemmed it in with fences and barbed wire from the rest of the park. One large wooden shed serves as a communal meeting place, furnished with a small bookcase of radical literature in one corner and a noticeboard on the wall. Visiting health workers also consult in this structure. I met up with John and Hayden the instigators of the project, and four other friends, and I was welcomed warmly into the community with a paper cup of sparkling wine. My friends were building a shed to store the tools for the garden, and plan to hold English lessons there for anyone in the community who wants to learn. The men were all in their forties and fifties, and come from as far north as Hokkaido and as far south as Okinawa.

We drank beer and cooked vegetables and salmon steaks on the barbeque Hayden had brought along. Whilst talking to one man and his wife, we were amused to see two young and trendy Japanese guys arrive to film for Asahi TV, the guy had to leave us saying ‘I am a star !’ by way of apology with a cheeky grin.. As he left, another man ran over with a can of beer for the newcomers. The two TV guys spent half an hour on so setting up some shots, then left to applause and friendly shouts from the men.

As it grew darker and bats started to circle our heads, out came the banjo and the guitar and we sang songs into the night. Requests included ‘Rawhide’ and ‘Puff the Magic Dragon!’ The Beatles songs were definitely the most popular, with one charismatic guy telling us ‘Imagine’ took him back to the sixties !

As we prepared to leave, there was much bowing and shaking of hands and applause, I rode home with a light heart and a smile on my face. Even though the language barrier meant anything past a few pleasantries and introductions was difficult, I’d felt true warmth and community in that corner of the city. I felt a renewed interest in learning Japanese, and maybe teaching English in the soon-to-be built blue toolshed-cum-classroom.

A BBC photo reportage on an Osakan homeless association here
Read the stories of homeless here
Maybe why there don't seem to be any young homeless - article on ageism and homelessness by the Christian Science Monitor here