It’s been a mild winter thus far in Prague, but even with overnight temps hovering around six or eight degrees, how many of us would choose to sleep over on a friend’s couch, if that ‘couch’ was a bench deep in a deserted park? That observation began an idle conversation began among several of us after a plate of pasta at my flat and led to brainstorming the means we felt might offer a partial solution for Prague’s homeless in winter.

I suggested trams that ran nightly from about 10pm to 8am, specifically for the homeless. Anyone who’s ever caught tram after about eight or nine at night has seen them anyway and they’re usually huddled asleep, other passengers giving wide berth and grumbling. They’re likely kicked off at the end of the line, unless the driver takes pity and ignores the several slumped against a window. But it’s against the rules and they’re most likely booted off. The idea caught on immediately and from the warm, lighted comfort of my snug living room we conjured plans and diagrams. It’s easy and without consequence to dream up schemes when you’re well fed and comfortable, a glass of Bohemian red snuggled in your hand.

I glanced out onto Moskevska on my way to uncork another bottle. The last winter leaves rattled in the trees in the park. It was cold and windy down there, not a place I’d choose to curl up for the night.

They’d have to be marked, these trams and ‘Homeless’ seemed judgmental and harsh, but ‘Special’ would suffice, so late travelers would know to catch their regular night tram. They could be run on Prague’s nine night-routes, kept running and warm at the end points, then on again in an endless loop. The Prague Public Transport Company (Dopravní podnik hlavnívo města Prahy) has over 900 trams, so what’s the real expense to save the homeless and cold the desperation and public scorn of an illegal ride?

What, six per line on nine lines, a piece of cake and ‘let them eat cake’ might take on a more worthwhile meaning. It’s cold out there and we are warm in our cozy winter lives.

Prague Post, December 10, 2010
Cold snap kills 14 homeless people

Shortage of services means deaths outpace rates of other big cities . . . Within the first six weeks of winter, 14 homeless people froze to death in Prague – nine in the first week of December alone. In New York City, with a total of 36,000 homeless people, one to three homeless freeze to death each year. . . “It happens every single year. It’s almost as if town authorities are surprised that they get snow in the winter,” said Mike Stannett, national leader of the Salvation Army. . . “When it comes to the really cold winter weather, what we have is not sufficient to house every single person who is still homeless.”

We outpace the rates of homeless deaths compared to other large cities? What a tribute to Prague, the Golden City.

Have a dog? Bring him on board, they’re cold as well and will not leave their masters. Dogs owned by the homeless are likely the best mannered in the city, usually lying snuggled by their side and used to strangers, often their companion’s only true link to love and acceptance. Dogs give a whole lot for very little and it is perhaps the least we can do to emulate their generosity on behalf of the abandoned.

Will there be problems with this scheme? Probably, but just as likely not many. Will these trams have to be inspected and cleaned come morning? Probably, but not much and certainly not too heavy a burden for the city to bear. Prague’s past solutions have their own problems, mostly with the homeless not wanting to be subjected to the rules and interventions of shelters, which would still operate for those who use them. It’s those who don’t we need to attend, those who are often counted only by treatment for hypothermia, frostbite and their occasional deaths.

Writing an article begets other thoughts and I was thinking this morning, from the luxury of a long hot shower, how cleanliness is another shame and deprivation of the homeless. No privacy in which to change clothes (if one had clean clothes) and no place to properly clean one’s body. The shame and discomfort of being increasingly filthy further alienates the already alienated. No place to even take a shit.

My dream would be an abandoned warehouse somewhere near the end of one of those Special trams, rehabbed to suit the need. Space to sit down over a nourishing bowl of soup, lockers to keep personal belongings (as few as they may be) safe while a hot shower was available. Razors and shave cream, perhaps a homeless barber to cut hair. Washers and driers to take those clothes, jackets and blankets or sleeping bags and wash them, providing a warm robe or blanket during the wait. Maybe a hundred crowns on the way out and no preaching to the faithless—but possibly a gleam of faith in the humanity and care of others.

Care is the keyword. When one is cared for—cared about, instead of grudgingly accepted as the lowest of the low, care for one’s self begins to heal. Who knows, perhaps some of these hopeless and helpless would gravitate towards working a bit in the laundry room or helping in the kitchen—the homeless barber is my template for that. A hundred crowns on the way out, without judgment about whether it’s used for food or a bottle.

My dream facility doesn’t yet have a name, but it does have a motto: “Whatever it takes to get you through.”

The ‘Special’ trams are not a solution, but they’re part of a solution. Those most at risk are unwilling to go elsewhere and ‘elsewhere’ is often full and has too many rules. Elsewhere is working, but not enough for those in need, those who gamble their lives that they can bear one more night, alone and cold.

“A nation’s greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

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Jim Freeman is an American citizen, living and writing in Prague since 1993. He primarily writes political commentary, fiction and non-fiction and is the author of thirteen books. www.jim-freeman.com