The remaining tents, many empty, of the homeless encampment beneath the Mulberry Street Bridge on Friday.
On Friday, as my Toyota Sienna bumped along the road parallel to the Mulberry Street Bridge homeless encampment, I expected to see a flurry of activity, with folks packing up their belongings in tubs and dismantling their tents, just waiting for help to arrive.
It was, after all, the appointed day for folks to evacuate the camp, because the city was arriving on Monday for the clean-out.
Instead, it was quiet, tents blowing and tarps flapping in the cold wind. A few volunteers sat in parked vehicles, ready to begin the move.
Two of those ”boots on the ground” were Christian Churches United’s (CCU) executive director Darrel Reinford, and director of development, Steve Schwartz.
Schwartz, Reinford and I talked about the progress of this crisis, and how the city and local stakeholders, over time, have created a collaboration to help find a solution for those being displaced. A Harrisburg city employee pulled up and joined the conversation.
He offered trucks to help move folks and talked about the new site, next to a bus line, where the city had done some work to accommodate the new arrivals, and that porta-potties would arrive soon.
As I listened to this conversation, what emerged was a picture of the city and local nonprofits working side by side to push this very large rock up a hill—together.
The morning moved slowly, and we didn’t jump into beginning to open tents or giving orders because this was not our neighborhood. That would be like random strangers knocking on my door and telling me what to do. So, we waited and assessed that many of the tents appeared empty, with unzipped doorways.
A makeshift sign hangs over the encampment.
At its peak, the camp had about 75 folks calling it home. When Aisha Mobley, CCU’s community mobilization and outreach coordinator, arrived later in the morning, she explained that only about 10 people were still there. Many had decided to leave on their own, some likely joining the camp by the PennDOT building.
Mobley talked with residents as they began to emerge from their dwellings. Mobley, or Miss Mobley to friends at the camp, is a regular here and helps connect folks with services.
One resident, Kevin, was clearly overwhelmed with the task at hand. He had built a life there, a collection of sneakers in milk crates, couches, a block fire pit, with the bridge acting as a roof over his abode. He looked at the group of us and said, tearing up, “This is my home.”
That is when I realized my naiveté when I arrived. I was looking at this as a task to complete, while some of the folks living there were still trying just to wrap their heads around it.
Shelby, with her happy brindle pit bull, “Tucker,” by her side, was nervous about the new site. She asked lots of questions. Mobley offered a visit to the new location. So, another volunteer, Scott Shank, myself, Shelby and Tucker hopped into my van for a short drive.
What a surreal experience to walk in the wooded area with someone and assess its suitability for living there. Was it hard, soft, muddy, dry? I pondered–would it be better to be low and muddy, but out of the wind, or high and dry but more exposed? Partly, I wondered if there was something terribly wrong with this monologue, and, partly, I accepted that this served as Shelby’s practical reality.
Shelby liked the site, and we were hopeful that she might allow us to help her move, but, when we got to back to the bridge, her response to getting packed was, “Not today.”
Mobley was having better luck with Kevin. He was reluctant and a bit paralyzed with the task of packing all of his belongings. Mobley bargained that, if he would leave today, when lots of help was available, CCU could help him with storage of his things. He agreed.
On the phone, she talked with another resident’s sister, saying that the camp was closing and that CCU would provide a travel voucher for him to return home, which was out of the area, if he was welcome back. He was welcome, so CCU will get him to the bus station and to his family.
Some folks who were still sticking around said that they would be receiving help from families to move later in the day. Over the course of the past week, CCU had been providing tarps, trash bags and plastic bins to those preparing to leave.
I was struck by the idea that those experiencing homelessness are not a monolith, even as they live in a place together and share a similar situation. Just like my suburban neighbors, they have their own ideas, ways of doing things, joys and woes. And they can be helped through this crisis and others likely to come, but as individuals.
Yes, everyone will be evicted from this camp, and anything left behind is destined for the trash heap, but how and exactly when they leave, for better or for worse, was still one decision they could make for themselves.
In 2019, Susan Ryder covered the removal of another homeless encampment nearby. Click here to read that award-winning story, “Out by Sunday.”
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