A Personal Reflection on Homelessness Amidst a Global Crisis
THAILAND — Homelessness has been a persistent issue in Thai society for as long as I can remember. As I grow older, I’m beginning to see the underlying forces that keep these individuals trapped in a cycle of despair. Once someone finds themselves on the streets, regaining stability seems nearly impossible.
The ongoing COVID-19 pandemic has devastated economies worldwide, sending countless individuals into hospitals and forcing many into destitution. If you’ve wandered through Bangkok this past year, you may have noticed a significant rise in the number of people seeking shelter on the streets.
Some individuals appear to be passed out from alcohol or simply napping, while others push makeshift carts to collect garbage. You can often find them lining up for free meals donated by kind-hearted citizens.
While the presence of homeless individuals was apparent before the pandemic, their numbers have surged. If you pay attention, you’ll likely spot many new faces among the familiar ones. My theory? The economic fallout from COVID-19 has driven people out of jobs and homes, leaving them to seek refuge on the streets.
Ratchadamnoen Boulevard, located just a stone’s throw from the popular backpacker area of Khaosan Road and the majestic Grand Palace, now hosts more homeless individuals than I can count. On this particularly scorching day, I notice more than ever, with people lounging in the shade of trees or abandoned buildings plastered with graffiti. The name Ratchadamnoen, roughly translating to “the king’s road,” feels like a cruel joke as I witness this reality.
Finding Connection
I set down a piece of cardboard beside an elderly street dweller, feeling apprehensive at first. To my surprise, he’s warm and eager to share his street survival tips.
“Where can I get something to eat?” I inquire.
He points across the boulevard, explaining that free food is often distributed there. “Just wait, and you’ll find something to sustain you for the day,” he advises.
“I’ve already eaten today,” he adds. “Plus, I want to avoid catching COVID.”
His top piece of advice? Keep your distance for now, but when you spot a food truck, make a run for it to secure a place at the front of the line. “Don’t be shy, or you’ll go hungry,” he emphasizes.
Thankful for his guidance, I head to the other side, where I observe the daily routines of the homeless. Beyond seeking their next meal, it seems their activities are limited to sleeping, chatting, or collecting recyclables. It’s a monotonous existence, which might explain their affinity for drinking lao khao, a potent rice liquor that offers a fleeting escape.
The Boulevard of Broken Dreams
On this side of the boulevard, I meet Tik, a former hotel cleaner whose job disappeared due to COVID-19. Despite her challenging circumstances, Tik remains hopeful that she will soon find work again. She shares that her previous life was much more comfortable and pulls out a stack of faded photographs from her tote—precious reminders of happier times.
“If my husband were still alive, I wouldn’t be here,” she reflects bitterly while scanning for signs of free food.
Having grown up in this neighborhood, Tik feels a deep connection to the area and its people. It feels unjust that she must rely on the generosity of others to survive. This should be a societal concern, yet the burden falls on private citizens.
As we chat, a food truck approaches, drawing everyone’s attention. “This is good. There are eggs!” Tik beams, even offering me three hardboiled eggs, which I politely decline since I managed to grab some myself.
Earlier, I worried that I wouldn’t fit in, but Tik’s generosity makes it clear that I belong. Food in hand, I bid her farewell and continue on my way.
Street Life by Choice
Not all individuals on the streets are there by circumstance; some, like K, choose this life. He could return home to his ailing mother, but he prefers to avoid the inevitable lectures on his perceived failures.
K’s situation is complicated by a missing national ID card, which he refuses to retrieve from the agent who secured him a labor job. After realizing he was uncomfortable with the work conditions, he fled, but without his ID, he cannot find another job.
“I don’t want to face my mother,” he admits, revealing the psychological burden of his situation. “I’d rather take my chances out here.”
K explains that he’s not inherently lazy; he just wants to escape a toxic environment. He shares that he enjoys a few drinks daily, not to get drunk but as a means to cope with the situation.
Another Lesson Learned
My journey continues to Lumpini Park, where many benches are occupied by individuals preparing to settle in for the night. I strike up a conversation with Yak, who once sold tea in the park until COVID-19 forced it to close.
I offer him some of my sticky rice and soda, intending to foster camaraderie over food. He gratefully accepts a portion of the sticky rice but puts the rest away for later.
Yak shares his daily strategy for meals, emphasizing the importance of planning. He explains how he used to have a job but couldn’t cope with the demands due to joint pain.
“Not that I don’t want to work—I do. I just can’t handle it,” he expresses, sounding defeated.
Yak has experienced the pain of joblessness, relying on the kindness of strangers for food. He tells me that the locals often help him, and an expatriate jogger gives him a small donation every time he passes by.
As our conversation unfolds, Yak reveals that he tries to keep his living situation private from his family to avoid burdening them. He hopes to return to selling tea once the park reopens.
When I finally settle in for the night, Yak warns me about the risk of theft in the area. I tuck my belongings close and use my water bottle as a pillow, finding it hard to sleep amid the noise of passing cars and bustling streets.
Around 3 a.m., a sudden downpour awakens us, forcing us to seek shelter at a nearby bus stop. As we huddle together with others, I reflect on my experience. I know I’ll return home after this, but for Yak and many others, the future remains uncertain.
After a night on the streets, I’ve gained insight into their struggles. At daybreak, I bid farewell to Yak, hoping he finds a way to turn his life around. I think of him and others whenever I eat or hear the rain. I wish for their well-being and recovery.
