“That guy’s a legend.”
That’s what a man passing by blurted out, off the cuff, pointing at Ozzy as we struck up a conversation with him. All this just minutes after another man had stopped to hug Ozzy. An embrace that ended with tears on both sides. Ozzy didn’t want to elaborate on what gives him this status as a pillar of Saint-Henri’s marginalized community. A community that, by the way, is becoming increasingly disenfranchised as the neighbourhood’s obvious gentrification progresses.
“Haven’t seen him in a long time” was his only explanation for that hug, which seemed to mean much more than that.
But even if he’s too humble to go into details, it’s clear that for his peers, he’s an example of strength and resilience. He just recently “retired” from the streets after 25 years of surviving on the asphalt of the Southwest.
“I’m lucky, I finally saw the light at the end of that tunnel. But sometimes, the light is far away. I had to walk a long time.” Ozzy has seen it all—mostly the bad—during his quarter-century navigating that tunnel he speaks of: indifference, judgment, and abuse were part of his daily life.
“I had become a feral cat. So much so that when I got out, I was scared of that life change. But I had people to help me.”
Médecins du Monde was one of those people. The care provided at the mobile clinic doesn’t get people off the streets, but for many, it’s the starting point they need.
“A lot of us are afraid of hospitals. When you’re experiencing homelessness, you go there to get treated, but often they just throw in your face what they think you did wrong to end up there.”
“Of course, after that, just having someone ask if you’ve eaten these past few days gives you hope again.”
We asked Ozzy if he had eaten these past few days. He assured us he had.
“We’re the only ones who are happy to be told we’ve gained weight.”