A New Face of Royal Oak

“I am hitting the streets of Royal Oak with Bill tomorrow; We have this assignment meeting with the homeless.” I told my wife as I was digging up my heavy-duty camping winter gear.

“Bundle up,” she said, “I do not want you to freeze to death.”

I could not hide my grin thinking how caring she was, to the point of ignoring that I had delivered pizza for a living during college and survived six winters in Detroit. I was particularly curious about such an assignment in a “hip’n cool” city like Royal Oak. The next day, Bill, Loren and I hunted for some homeless individuals and we (surprisingly) quickly stumbled into two of them seeking warmth at the Grey Hound Bus Station in Royal Oak.

Although we only met two interviewees that day, the shock effect was felt, deeply. While taking notes during the first interview, my left elbow went numb, my right arm froze and the nerves of my right hand fingers ceased to respond. I started to wonder how do they survive and, days later, I am still wondering.

Our interviewees, John and Dave, were middle-aged men who lost their employment, endured past [and current] drug abuse recovery, suffered families’ abandonment and were gravely buried under societal stigmatization. John had a felony on his record, which eradicated his hope of finding new employment. Dave had just had a surgery and his chances of surviving the remainder of winter are gradually fading away.

The more I remember their stories the more I feel slapped with painful realizations. We love numbers, statistics and survey results. We tend to factualize what we perceive by finding a way to measure by numbers and standards. This building is 400 foot high, a single colony could have millions of ants, that car could run at 100 miles per hour. We cannot, alas, evaluate and assess things like awe, loyalty, beauty, joy and suffering.

Overwhelmed, I have reached a state of emotional numbness that superseded astonishment; The same one I felt when I heard in 1990 about a Kuwaiti woman who was raped by 48 Iraqi soldiers, the same one I felt when I learned that it took only three months of tribal war to eradicate about a million Rwandans. Why do the words “tsunami,” “Katrina,” “Hiroshima” sound like? Not like any bells ringing but like immeasurable grief and unbearable sorrow. I did not dwell on the number of victims for it was powerful enough to reflect on the “amount” of suffering they had to endure.

This time, suffering was closer to home than ever. It was standing before my eyes in hip’n cool Royal Oak. Standing in the form of men with broken spirit and ailing bodies with no place to go. I still do not know how their frail builds could survive such conditions that made my perfectly healthy body tremble in a few minutes. Their survival is beyond my comprehension and their suffering is beyond my grasp.

Dave mentioned that Royal Oak is booming with new condominiums whose owners consider the very presence of the homeless a risk on the value of their property. I instantly wondered how would I react if my condo association informed me that our elegant “territory” is attracting homeless individuals. While flying in the philosophical sky took me nowhere but to seeing more suffering, my wife brought me back to earth with very few words. She reminded me that some of us do actually care enough to do something about that suffering, even though it is not foreseeable to erase it from existence. We all can aspire to watch, participate in, and promote real acts of compassion toward those burdened ones.

I am still reflecting on that unusual experience and am still amazed how selective our perception of reality is. I can see now the big irony of the odd co-existence of the homeless and the hip in Royal Oak. Next time I visit the area, beauty salons, and fine eateries will not be the first things to strike my eyes. For those who look closely enough, the city has a lot of other features. For me at least, Royal Oak has a new face.

Emad Ghith Emad.Ghith@uwsem.org
Information & Referral Associate
United Way 2-1-1