NEWSTENT CITIES

Nickelsville, the self-sufficient tent city in Seattle that has been working towards making things better for those who are homeless but not helpless, moved into a new location this week. While residents, who call themselves Nickelodeans, wait to hear about a permanent location, they settled in for a six-month stay at an old firehouse. As expected, neighbors aren't happy.

Previously, Nickelsville issued a proclamation of a state of emergency. The camp's residents openly acknowledge that they are the disabled, the mentally ill, the unemployable or the too old and too poor to matter. They'll also tell you that things are getting worse, not better, despite the existence of Seattle's 10-year plan to end homelessness.

Budget cuts have reduced the funding for human services by 46 percent. Funding for youth shelter has been eliminated, along with many other programs as Washington State faces a budget crisis. Nickelsville has been working with the Mayor's Office to find a permanent site for the tent city so that residents can have a sense of stability moving forward. Tent cities might not be the most ideal option for the homeless, but they can be the best thing available in tough economic times. They're certainly better than the streets.

Tell Seattle to find a permanent location for Nickelsville now!

Although the city of Seattle has mapped out seven potential permanent sites for the self-sustaining tent city of Nickelsville, residents, or "Nickelodeons," are very well aware of the discrimination that local homeless people face every day.

Fear tends to be the emotion expressed the loudest, as neighbors cry out "not in my backyard!" at the thought of tents popping up next to their pools. In an effort to address this issue, Nickelsville held a Halloween Open House on the afternoon of Halloween. The event included a tour and one-on-one chats with residents to help future neighbors quell their fears of the unknown by getting to know the tent-dwellers.

Nickelodeons understand that no matter which site is chosen, someone will be upset. What better time than now to ask friends and supporters to educate those who have misplaced fears about Nickelsville? They can tell people, for instance, that a Nickelsville resident has never caused harm to a neighbor, no matter where the regularly moving Nickelsville was located. Other neighbors have quickly learned that campers are quiet and pose no threats. The only thing Nickelodeons are asking for is to be given a chance. An open letter and invitation to attend Nickelsville's Halloween Open House tells neighbors to "be there or be scared."

A long-awaited meeting at Seattle City Hall gave encouragement to the city's homeless population this week. Mayor Mike McGinn's Citizen's Review Panel unanimously voted to find a permanent location for Nickelsville, the self-sufficient tent city.

To the delight of everyone present, the panel members showed they recognized that the city's policies should be geared towards allowing people to stay where they are as long as they do not interfere with other's rights or are a disturbance to the peace.

Several recommendations were made, including the creation of safety zones for homeless campers, people who sleep outdoors or in their cars. Overnight shelters should have more priority than those provided during the daytime along with expanding shelter capacities in buildings owned by government. A staff person from Nickelsville will be at the deputy mayor's office to set up a meeting about  finding a permanent site quickly as the deadline for the tent city to move again is November 15th. Residents, or "Nickelodeons," were told that a meeting with the mayor would follow the "Encampment Panel's" vote. Tell Seattle to find a permanent location for Nickelsville, and soon!

The steps being taken by the mayor's office show recognition that Seattle has a homeless emergency crisis. Deputy Mayor Darryl Smith mentioned that the mayor's office will not divulge the list of sites being looked at until members of the panel have a chance to review them. Weather conditions have recently worsened and the city is expected to respond by providing emergency shelter at the Frye Hotel and City Hall downtown.

You might think that more water would be the last thing a flood victim would want to see, but gaining access to clean drinking water can mean the difference between life and death after a devastating deluge.

Floods not only hold the devastating potential to displace thousands of people from their homes, and kill or injure those in its path, but the surges often cut off large populations of people from food, medical supplies and potable water. Without access to these vital resources, health risks and fatalities can multiply exponentially in a matter of days or even hours.

In many cases these horrible circumstances are compounded by the fact that for those who were homeless before a flood, gaining access to clean water was already an enormous challenge. As Change.org blogger Steven Samra pointed out earlier this year, when massive floods swept through Nashville in May, residents of the city's largest homeless encampment not only lost all their personal possessions, but also lacked the social safety net available to those who had been previously housed. Unable to access local, state or federal aid, without the assistance of housed friends and family, and dislocated from what limited resources (food, water, etc.) they may have had before the flood, many peoples' situation went from bad to worse.

You may be wondering what has become of the tent city that was erected in July on a vacant lot owned by the D.C. government (and the citizens of the District) called Parcel 42. Well, after three months, it has been shut down by city officials. This action was part of a national effort to bring attention to the need for housing as a human right. Many of the participants are part of the National Right to Housing Movement.

This particular plot of land was chosen for the action so that we could highlight the broken promise of the outgoing mayor Adrian Fenty to build affordable housing on this lot that has sat vacant for several years and promises to sit vacant for at least a couple more. Plans were drawn up and development slated to begin in December 2009. No ground has been broken yet and the official word is that it may be at least two more years before ground is finally broken on this "planned" project.

Community activists have floated ideas for interim uses such as a community garden, outdoor theatre or a recreational facility. But no one has stepped forth so as to take on the tedious tasks of gaining public support for any of the aforementioned ideas and making it happen.

Nonetheless, on September 22nd, a city official posted a sign warning that the tent city would be demolished in two weeks. (This is in compliance with D.C. law which mandates that a 14-day notice be posted warning that an encampment will be dismantled.) Fifteen days later, the city moved forward with the demolition. During the 15-day grace period I made calls and sent e-mails encouraging people to retrieve their belongings and some did.

I guess the cops in Riverside, California haven't heard about the cops in Grand Junction, Colorado. The ones who trashed a tent city and got fired for it. Because Riverside's finest allegedly just tore up an encampment in a particularly vicious way.

The department is currently investigating the claims from homeless residents that police were too aggressive in shutting down a camp in the Santa Ana River riverbed last week. Residents and their advocates charge that officers crushed canned food, poked holes in water bottles, threw clothing in the water and slashed tents and bike tires.

Since police officers in other communities have done this before, nothing is out of the realm of possibility. Quick and decisive action on the part of the police department is important for two reasons: 1) homeless people should be reassured that their rights are as important as those of cops and 2) Riverside has lots of riverbed camps. Less than 10 percent of the area's 600+ homeless people stay in shelters; most sleep in riverbeds, according to city officials.

It seems like a given that good relationships between the homeless and the police would benefit both groups. But right now tensions are high. It doesn't help matters when Riverside Police Chief Sergio Diaz, right after stating that police officers can't destory personal property, says things like, "These folks are sometimes referred to as 'shelter resistant,' and one of the reasons you would resist going to a shelter is because in a shelter you can't sell dope, you can't consume dope and you can't assault people." Stereotyping won't do anything (besides make it obvious he hasn't heard about self-governing and drug-free tent cities like Nickelsville in Seattle).

Three cheers for Puyallup! That's Puyallup, Washington, a town of just over 30,000 that recognizes the rights of the homeless better than much larger cities.

The Puyallup City Council voted this week to approve an ordinance that will allow religious groups to host tent cities and other camps. The camps can be inside or out and must include water, toilets, garbage cans, some screening from neighbors and a no-tolerance policy for drugs, alcohol and weapons. The measure will undoubtedly make winter easier (though not easy) for the estimated 400 homeless residents of Puyallup.

Local homeless advocates hope that any tent cities that spring up in response to the new ordinance will look a lot like Camp Quixote, a democratic community in nearby Thurston County. It operates year-round, and is known as a go-to resource for people in need and service workers, but it also has to move on a regular basis.

This is a major step for people in Puyallup, but it could definitely go further. The ordinance stipulates that these church-sponsored tent cities can only serve 40 people and can only stay in one location for 90 days. Also, just one camp can operate at a time. And, of course, it applies to religious groups but not secular groups who might have a similar interest in setting up camps. When there are 400 homeless people, a camp for 40 obviously isn't going to cut it.

Last week Time magazine reported that when a devastating earthquake killed more than 200,000 people in Haiti earlier this year, more than 75 families fled to a small church for safety. The church, owned by preacher Samuel Farncois in the Delmas district of Port-au-Prince, is no more than a small shack, but it was still a structure.

The survivors settled into a makeshift tent camp — as the homeless do everywhere. At first, when the devastation was a "natural disaster" and pity and compassion for victims was running high, the land's owner — a wealthy Haitian business woman — tolerated the survivors. But recently, once NGOs began installing latrines and providing other aid, she balked and demanded that the families leave.

According to Time, "She refused an offer to rent the land until better shelters could be found for the refugees; since then, residents say they have faced police harassment aimed at forcing them to leave. 'They tell us, 'Get out of here, you're nothing but dogs',' says Rosena Desriveaux, 21, who still lives in the Delmas camp in a threadbare tarp shelter with her unemployed husband and 8-month-old baby." She said her family has nowhere else to go.

Sound familiar? The landowner, who is known as Madame Biton, isn't stopping there. She is trying to tear down the church, which she personally approved. And, she has gone as far to have dump trucks pour loads of earthquake rubble on the lot to force people away. Call it the equivalent of police shredding tents. Biton even had the latrine walls torn down and now the refugees say they only use the facilities at night when they can't be seen.

I recently decided to check out Nickelsville, a self-governing tent city in Seattle, because I might find myself there one day. It was as simple as calling the number on the Nickelsville website. A man named Nate told me I could come down between the hours of 8 a.m. and 9 p.m.

Nickelsville is currently located at the University Congregational United Church of Christ's parking lot. The first thing I noticed here wasn't the rows of tents — it was that the place is incredibly clean. I saw a man and his dog sitting behind a couple of old school desks and told him I was looking for Nate. "You mean Alter-Nate?" he asked. Apparently there were three different Nates but the one I spoke to is nicknamed Alter-Nate. Thank goodness I didn't meet Procrasti-Nate, since the folks at Nickelsville told me the name aptly fit the gentleman they gave it to.

Alter-Nate was very gracious and agreed to give me a tour. I followed him through a row of tents marked with numbered paper plates that serve as addresses down to a common area, an outdoor kitchen pantry that needed restocking and over to where the portable toilets were. Nate showed me a bike he converted into an electricity generator that he calls the "Cyclotron." The residents can use it to recharge their laptops, phones and so on. It was damaged in the last move (the city requires the camp to move from time to time) but Nate is busily repairing it. I believe they have or had a generator but could only run it twice a day and only if they really, really had to. Buying propane gas takes a large chunk out of the Nickelsville fund.

Other than the noise of the nearby street, Nickelsville is quiet. The 90 folks who live here are clean and look like everyone else. I got invited to sit in the common area and talk with people. I saw a family with two children making dinner on one of the grills. If I do have to come here, at least I know they take families (and pets). Most shelters will take men only or women and children only.

This new video comes from Mark's InvisiblePeople.tv 30-city, 11,000-mile, 75-day road trip, going on now.

Over the last two years I've walked into many tent communities. After my first steps into Sacramento's Tent City (read about day one and day two), I remember how shocked I was that this was America. At the same time I was overwhelmed by the thought that the growth of tent cities could become our nation's future.

I'll never forget the day I walked into Nickelsville, a self-governing tent city in Washington encouraging a real community for support and healing. Call me an old hippie if you want. I fell in love with this tent city model. It truly is gorgeous. But after reflection I saw something else. Nickelsville is a slap in our (homeless services) face. These people should not have to live homeless like this, and the reason they do is because we (homeless services) failed to help them. Point blank: the only reason tent cities exist in the first place is because the shelter system is broken.

Lily Au, a housewife who was once helped by a homeless man and now helps fight homelessness, recently asked me to visit a tent city in Ann Arbor, Michigan. After a long drive and a long walk into the woods we arrived at Camp Take Notice, home for about 20 people. It's unique in that it's an itinerant tent city; so far it has moved six times. It was there I met Caleb Poirier, a brilliant young man who prefers to just say he is the organizer of Camp Take Notice. Below is a short interview with Caleb that I hope you'll take the time to watch.