Cover Story
by Katie Childs
The village's goal was to provide a place where homeless people could get out of doorways and become self-sufficient.
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Homeless strive for dignity in makeshift tent city
Sunshine, Gaye Reyes, and Tim McCarthy gather around the community woodstove in Dignity Village. -Katie Childs
Between 2,000 and 3,000 people will sleep on the Portland streets tonight: in doorways, under bridges, in abandoned buildings. Sixty will find respite in the tarp and plywood structures of Dignity Village.
The village sits wedged between the runways of the Portland airport and a prison. A fence lines the seven-tenths acre of asphalt packed with 53 makeshift homes, three portable toilets and the village commons.
The domed commons is home to the village's only source of electricity and running water. But not tonight. The lights are off to conserve the little power produced by a windmill.
After sunset, villagers sit in the commons on mismatched couches and wobbly metal chairs around the source of community light and heat--a small wood stove.
Jack Tafari, one of the founders of Dignity Village and vice-chairman of the village council, sits directly in front of the stove. He feeds the fire, his beaded dreads silhouetted against the burning coals, and explains the roots of Rastafarianism. Keith, a redhead in his early 30s, describes in a Southern drawl his conversion to Christianity. J.P. Cupp takes over the conversation, ranting about the need for a revolution and the overthrow of the bourgeois.
Throughout the night, people leave the fire for their 10-by-12 to 10-by-15-foot homes. Some structures are tarps stretched over a wooden frame of plywood scraps and wood planks.
Dignity Village's latest experiment is cob houses. The cob house is made of a mixture of straw, sand, dog hair and mud poured into a form. The sludge hardens to become a home.
This May, the village will host a Village Building Convergence in which volunteers from the community will build five cob houses in 10 days and train villagers in the process. Members of Dignity Village then will use these skills to build five more cob structures. These cob houses will replace some of the less sturdy structures villagers call home.
During one rainstorm, village treasurer Tim McCarthy's structure collapsed in a heap of tarp and scrap wood. He suddenly found himself homeless again. Members donated their doorways to McCarthy and his sleeping bag until a new structure could be built.
Each structure is built off the ground to keep out the rain and rats and make the homes mobile in case the village is forced to move again.
Since the village began as a non-violent protest in December, 2000, with eight homeless men and women camping on public land, its members have been forced to move five times.
The village's goal was to provide a place where homeless people could get out of doorways and become self-sufficient. After the villagers had inhabited five locations, the city offered the asphalt lot at Sunderland as a temporary plot in late August 2001.
Temporary has turned into two and one-half years.
On Feb. 24, 2004, four of five city commissioners voted to make Dignity Village a sanctioned campground under ORS 446.265. The statute states, "A municipality may approve the establishment of a campground inside an urban growth boundary to be used for providing transitional housing accommodations." This gives the city the right to determine how long the village can stay, how the structures need to be built and how many can live at the village.
"The city can dictate how we operate," Ron, Dignity's council president, said.
Although the village asked for a 10-year lease of the campground, Ron does not expect the city to offer that much time. He is hoping for at least three years.
Only one commissioner voted against Dignity Village becoming a transitional housing campground: Jim Francesconi.
Michael Harrison, assistant to and speaking for Mr. Francesconi, said that if the city is to create an outdoor transitional community for the homeless, it would need to provide basics such as sewers, running water and in-code shelters. He said the money needed for this project would be better spent on groups that have proven results, such as JOIN and Transition Projects Inc. He noted that many who live at Dignity Village have lived there since its inception. "We have to see that Dignity moves people into permanent housing," he said.
Benjamin, a Dignity Village member, has lived in public transitional housing and agrees that Dignity Village does not measure up in many ways. "[At Dignity Village] I can't get up in the middle of the night and go to my own bathroom, make a snack or get a hot shower if I'm cold," he said.
Portland does not have enough shelter beds and housing to go around. On March 26, 2003, Multnomah County Office of School and Community Partnerships performed an annual one-night shelter count. In Portland, 597 individuals slept in emergency shelter beds and 1,062 in transitional housing. But 337 were turned away. The waiting lists are continuous.
Throughout 2003, 136 individuals lived in the village, according to the Dignity Village Service and Statistical Report. Sixty-two of these transitioned to alternative housing; nine returned to the streets.
Dignity Village's success, or lack thereof as a transitional project, is only one of Mr. Francesconi's concerns. Mr. Harrison noted that many homeless struggle with mental health problems and drug and alcohol addictions. When the village first started, Mr. Harrison said, it didn't have direct access to such programs as Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous.
Dignity Village is selective about who lives in its community. At least seven members of the village's "Tents and Population" committee interview every perspective member. The interviewee must fill out a questionnaire that asks questions such as "Why do you think you are homeless?" and "Would you be willing to start Alcoholics, Narcotics or Gamblers Anonymous, or any other programs that may help others in the village with problems?"
Both alcohol and drugs are outlawed from the village. In theory, when a member breaks that law, he or she is expelled from the village for 24 hours after the first offense and for seven days after the second.
Usually the drug and alcohol problems don't appear until a few months after the person moves in to the village, one villager said. Then that person has to do something pretty drastic to get thrown out.
To some, Dignity Village's drug and alcohol policy is too strict in its effort to become presentable to the public. Many homeless people feel the village has lost sight of the homeless cause.
When Jaer arrived in Portland about eight months ago, he immediately went to Dignity's doorstep. Dignity's strict drug rules and what seemed a picking-and-choosing of which drugs could stay and which must go angered him. He didn't understand why village leaders had a problem with a villager hanging out in his own tent doing his drug of choice, yet they did little to stop drunkards. Jaer chooses instead to stay in the doorways and under the bridges in Portland.
Dignity Village is limited to people over 18 years old, by order of the city. Eventually village leaders would like Dignity Village to be a place where entire families can take refuge from the streets, but this will not be possible as long as the village is located on city-sanctioned land. "Our goal is to help more people," Ron said.
"If we stop bamming up against the system [now, that we have a campground] we do a disservice to the homeless people," Benjamin said. He thinks the village should reach out to the general homeless population of Portland and give membership to any homeless person who wants it.
Dignity Village is looking for a plot to call its own. When the clock runs up on the lease, whether that's one or 10 years away, every structure will have to come down, again.
Tonight the village has quieted as most villagers curl-up in their sleeping bags under plastic and wood roofs. The last embers of the community fire die out at 2 a.m. along with the last conversations for the night.
Occasionally the villager on security for the night walks through the commons, flashing his light to make sure everything is OK. Tonight for the 60 members of Dignity Village, as long as the rain and wind don't blow too violently, their roofs are secure.
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