Life can get very hectic and as a busy mum of six it is often hard to find time to help others. A very dear friend of mine manages to make time every week hail, rain or shine to feed Dublin’s growing numbers of homeless.

I volunteered with MSOE last year and last Friday October 25 I went back to the GPO. It was an experience that I will NEVER EVER, FORGET and I thank God for taking me there. As I waited outside the GPO on a cold dark evening, the tables hadn’t been set up yet, a man was standing there waiting, I explained to him that the volunteers were unpacking their car. I knew by his face that he was hungry but that he also wanted to say something. I knew by the look on his face and looked into his eyes what he wanted to say before he even uttered a word. He said “I am depressed and was thinking of killing myself…”.

His words echoed in my head, I wanted to reach out and hug him and tell him things would be okay. As the crowd started to gather I lost sight of him. I tried to look for him among the crowd of service users, but he had disappeared may God protect him. People were coming out of the woodwork.

Some of the man old enough to be my grandfather politely asking, “Please love, can you give me a cuppa with one sugar…”, the cold night around us was starting to freeze. I thought I came prepared by wearing two pairs of socks, but I could still feel the cold setting in as I looked at the queue looking for hot drinks. Some told me they were homeless, others wanted to chat or just ask for tea and coffee. As I tried to brush away the tears I felt so powerless and guilty.

As I glanced away from the table my heart broke watching other people walking by with their shopping bags, others, well dressed people were heading out for the night their laughter filling the air. The contrast of the two worlds just a few feet away. People are entitled to a night out after working hard all week and can spend their hard-earned money whatever way they want, but not all of us have been so blessed. Some people have homes, jobs and want for nothing, while others have to walk the streets with their belongings in a plastic bag, guarding it for dear life.

Some of the service users politely ask for an extra sandwich or an apple because tomorrow is another hungry day. One person asked for a sleeping bag, but sadly we didn’t have any, a woman asked for a jacket because the one she was wearing was inadequate for the cold weather. As the night got colder I continued serving tea and coffee a young woman came and asked for coffee.

I handed it to her and suggested that she stood beside me to shelter from the cold. She moved in closer to the wall of the GPO, the building that witnessed the 1916 Rising, where the heroes of the revolution took refuge. Now a quieter revolution is taking place. This is the gathering place of the various charities who operate soup runs on shoestring budgets to feed the growing numbers of homeless, while the government manipulates the numbers to make it look less. I look again at this sweet young woman sheltering near a pillar. As I remember her I realise that she was also fighting from within, fighting for her freedom to escape being homeless, from staying at hostels, to fulfilling her dream of having a key to her own home, a place to take the bag of her possessions and put them away in a wardrobe. Her aspirations may not be as noble as fighting for our independence, but she was fighting to survive on the streets of Dublin, while an indifferent government gentrify Dublin city while ignoring the plight of some of our most vulnerable citizens.

The young woman politely asked for another drink and afterwards says that she has to catch her bus, she could barely walk at this stage and her speech became slurred. I asked someone to take over and offered to walk her to the bus stop. As we walked her eyes were closing and she complained about the weight of her bag. I offered to carry her bag. It’s important to remember that we were two strangers, who had only met briefly. Anyone seeing us walking side by side, hand in hand would have assumed that we were best friends. The walk from the GPO to the bus stop took a long time as she poured out her heart to me, telling me how she had lost both her brother and sister. It broke my heart.

When we reached the bus stop there was no bus for 25 minutes. She urged me to go back to my friends, but that night we had both gained a new friend. I was carrying her bag on my shoulder, which I noticed was heavy. When I asked her why her bag was so heavy she explained that she stayed at a homeless hostel and she had to take her stuff out with her everyday so it wasn’t stolen. My heart broke again as I looked at her she was freezing as I hugged her to keep her warm. She was coughing and complaining of chest pains. She asked me if I had any gloves. A man beside us was wearing gloves and I asked him if she could have them. He took them off and gave them to her. As I thanked him I asked where he was from and he replied that he was from India. We were all friends now an Irish Muslim woman, a homeless Irish woman and a man from India, none of this mattered to us. When the bus came I asked the driver to let the womanoff at the right stop. I also mentioned this to a Polish lady who ended up talking to us as she too waited for the same bus.

I cried as I walked back to the GPO, wishing that I could do more. Wanting to take the bus with her and make sure she was safe, tucking her up in a hostel bed. I cried for her knowing I was going home to my own bed. I still wonder how she is. When I got back to the table a very tall man asked me for tea, as he walked away I could hear screaming which became louder. I left the table to attend to him and saw that someone had thrown hot tea over his head and he was in a lot of pain and blisters started to form over his ear. I tried pouring cold water from a bottle over him to ease the pain, but he walked away screaming.

I will never forget last Friday night as long as I live, and I don’t want to. I have learned a valuable lesson, we are ALL brothers and sisters in this world. No one is better than anyone else, no matter how wealthy they are or the size of their house, because as quickly as we got our home we can lose it. We should be thankful for all our blessings, for our health or wealth given to us by God. As we cleared and folded up the tables to make our way home, another group from Newry were starting their shift of feeding and loving the homeless. As I walked by I noticed two chairs had been set up outside the GPO while people queued for a haircut. The GPO had become a little town of its own, a different kind of history in the making. I felt sad going home that night and sadder as I write this in the early hours of Sunday morning. We need more than lip service from the government and less manipulating the figures.