What it’s like to be homeless in the ByWard Market

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Once a gem in the centre of the nation’s capital, the ByWard Market is losing its place in Ottawans’ hearts. Longstanding businesses have closed. A rash of high-profile violent crimes — including a brazen daytime shooting — and rampant opioid abuse have increased calls from locals for help. The attempts to revitalize the area — from the addition of a $50 million neighbourhood police station to installing an undersized fake-ice rink — vary widely. But what say the people who are still there? We interviewed folks who live, work and play in the ByWard Market. These are their stories, in their own words.

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Paul Albert slept and panhandled in the ByWard Market for most of 2024. 

For months, I’ve been literally sleeping on the streets. Right here, actually. I’ve slept here [at the corner of William St. and George St.], Major’s Hill, King Edward Park, St. Patrick’s Park. Anywhere and everywhere.

I’m here because I have nowhere else to go. I was living in my car, working full-time in landscaping. On a rainy Tuesday night in September 2022, my car broke down. I missed work, and couldn’t call in at 6 a.m. because I couldn’t charge my phone. I was living in Aylmer, no corner store, no payphone.

So I lost my car I was living in, and my job to make money, two days apart. Where do I go?

I have family, but none that can take me in because of their own stories, routines and lives. So where do you end up? On the streets, or in shelters.

In the parks, we’re left alone mostly, unless we set up tents. Other than that, we’re left alone as long as we don’t sleep in Indigo Parking or Rideau parking, or other private properties.

I get treated better by the Average Joe than I do by the city. Do you know what they did? They spent money on an initiative to have the cops patrol and kick us out of the market, sweep us under the rug for the tourists. But it’s like a Band-Aid. Spend thousands, millions of dollars on whatever program for the cops to patrol, instead of spending that budget actually getting us off the street and solving the problem.

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I’ve been harassed, threatened with arrests and fines, literally marched out of here by cops. I’ve had my things thrown around. It’s ridiculous. It’s embarrassing for a cop to say, “you have to move.” I’ve been doing this for almost two years. This summer is the first time they’ve actually been enforcing it.

Other than that, the only thing we have to worry about is being mugged, being attacked, being robbed by the fellow homeless, which is really pathetic and sad. We’re in the same boat. We’re supposed to be helping each other get off the streets, not stealing and robbing each other. But it’s the addicts, the fentanyl users, crystal (meth) users that don’t have any hustle, you know? No other means of getting money. Or they think panhandling is a waste of time.

I hate having to ask people. To beg for money. I’m on Ontario Works. I make $310 a month. You do the math, that works out to $10 a day. Can you even get a double Big Mac combo for $10? I think it’s like $13, $14 after tax.

I spend my $10 on food, but sometimes I use two or three days’ worth of money to buy two good meals. A combo meal, or a pizza. It isn’t that fun. Sometimes I have it gone in three or four days after buying socks and pants.

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Yes, there are resources, but they don’t always have what you need. I’ve been asking for jeans; nobody has jeans. You can get socks occasionally, shirts sometimes, but Salvation, Outreach, everybody relies on donations, or budgets. Or the generosity of civilians.

I was jumped by five guys last night. One of them had a baton. I didn’t even see the baton coming, they jumped me from behind. I took nine hits to the head. All because some kind lady was kind enough to hand me a $50 bill. Someone was walking by and saw it, was jealous and money-hungry. Ten minutes later, five guys swarmed me and took my money. The gash on my head is this long. The nurse stitched me up last night.

I’ve been robbed at gunpoint, knifepoint, baton. I get treated like I don’t exist, I’m trash. But I’m smart. I know where to go when I need to. You have to choose your meal, where you’re going to sleep. All kinds of challenges.

Ninety per cent of people treat us like we’re trash, we’re garbage, we don’t exist. They don’t even look at you when they walk by. COVID didn’t help because what does everyone use now? Debit and credit. People don’t carry cash. The remaining 10 per cent, maybe three or four have money and don’t notice you because you’re garbage, you’re nothing. Two or three would help if they had money on them. And like one or two people would actually do anything and everything, and will help you.

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I have a 13-year-old son. I want to prove to him, no matter your circumstances, do your best, work hard, and it pays off. I like the Winston Churchill quote, “‘Success is not final, failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts.’” I want him to know, keep at it, and eventually you’ll get somewhere.

We need more humanity in the Market. Some are here by choice, because of addiction, because of health, because of circumstance. Don’t judge us all by the same cover. We’re all human just like you. We bleed like you. Don’t treat us all the same. I could be your brother, your son. I could be you.

As told to Marlo Glass. This conversation has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

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