INTERNATIONAL STORY COURTESY OF HINZ&KUNZT / INSP.NGO IN-WORK HOMELESSNESS IN HAMBURG, GERMANY BY ULRICH JONAS NOISE. DEAFENING AND UBIQUITOUS. From the left and right, the motors of the countless passing cars drone on from behind the wheels of the inter-city express on a nearby railway bridge. “That is my accommodation,” says Adrian*, 64, pointing to a hand-made shelter consisting of wooden planks and a tarpaulin. It is concealed by the green of the trees and bushes on a traffic island near Hamburg’s main train station. A booking website would advertise it as a “central location”: when Adrian steps out of the shelter, he can even see the town hall in the distance. He can barely sleep because of the noise around him – but he urgently needs sleep. He works full-time: the early shift, the late shift, and sometimes even the night shift in a factory located in the east of Hamburg. This Wednesday in August marks four weeks since Adrian has been unsuccessfully trying to get some rest in the shelter. Until the end of July, he had a room in some accommodation that the city opened during the previous year solely for people like him, who migrated from abroad – in his case Romania: the Guest House for Immigrants Looking for Work. The social authority said at the opening that it should also help people who are “in need of housing through no fault of their own”. Adrian was permitted to live in this accommodation for three months. He explains that, under the city’s rules, this is the longest amount of time that people are allowed to stay in order to find permanent accommodation with the support of the project. Then, according to Adrian, you are asked to “hand the keys over” – and then sent out onto the streets. When asked, the social authority contests this. According to a representative, Adrian indicated that “he was moving in with his cousin,” which Adrian expressly refutes. Adrian found shelter after leaving the accommodation: A Romanian couple that he knows from work left him the shed on the traffic island – they didn’t need it anymore as they wanted to return home. Since March, he has been working in the factory. He works shifts to ensure that the halls are clean as an employee of a temporary employment agency. The job suits him – as the supervisor also comes from Romania like him, Adrian can communicate well despite speaking little German. On 23 August, Adrian received a notice: within the next 24 hours, he would have to vacate the premises. “Should you not comply with this instruction, enforcement measures will be introduced immediately following the deadline,” reads the letter from the Mitte district office, which is lying on the floor in front of the shelter. Adrian repudiated the highway code. A few days later, his accommodation was destroyed. Why does the local authority punish people experiencing homelessness, who are just looking for peace and quiet in a hidden shelter? A representative from the Mitte district office explains that his camp “permanently excluded the use of the public pathway for others” – a questionable allegation considering that the traffic island cannot be used by pedestrians on foot. Caseworkers tried repeatedly to offer Adrian help, they claim, “but we were never able to find him.” Pik As is the emergency accommodation for people experiencing homelessness in Hamburg. Adrian has repeatedly been turned away from there, he explains, due to the fact that he earns too much. He ought to contact the specialist department for housing emergencies, he has been told. It was only when his case worker, Irina Mortoiu, gave him a letter describing his emergency situation in drastic terms that Adrian got offered a place in a four-bedroom. He would happily pay for his own room, says the shift worker. But this is not an option when staying in Pik As, and Adrian cannot afford the €1,600 monthly cost of staying in a hotel. The municipal operators of Pik As, Fördern & Wohnen, claim that Adrian “was not sent away”. Rather, according to a representative, he had been “strongly recommended” to contact a specialist agency for housing emergencies. In our assessment, he is entitled to public accommodation. One morning in the middle of September, he exhausted, in the case worker’s office. He doesn’t get much sleep in Pik As either. He has just finished the night shift. “I come back from work around midnight and lie down, and my roommates wake me up at 6 am with their noise.” At the latest, he has to leave the accommodation, like all the others, by 9:30 am. Then he roams the streets or sits by the Hinz&Kunzt office until his shift begins. The prospect of the next night shift makes him anxious: “How am I supposed to do this? When am I supposed to sleep?” Mortoiu outlined Adrian’s circumstances to the responsible agency for housing emergencies in Eimsbüttel at the end of August and insisted on getting him prompt assistance. She has long since emailed the necessary documents to the office. But it takes time: on the 16 September deadline, an official told Mortoiu that an application form was missing. She promised Adrian on the phone that soon he would be able to stay at Pik As during the day. He could possibly move from there into residential accommodation soon. He has no family or friends here who can help him, he says. He doesn’t ask for much: just a roof over his head and to get enough rest. ■ *Name changed to protect identity. Translated from German via Translators Without Borders Courtesy of Hinz&Kunzt / INSP.ngo sits, November 2024 DENVER VOICE 5
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