Two Days in The Jungle: Part IV

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

“Who's'at behind my tent?!?” The angry voice hollared. The flash-light in my face had woke me up just prior to the challenge.

I can't remember exactly what it was I said. I was half asleep still, but the man was persistent.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“I'm Dee!” said the man. “What's yours?”

“I'm Christian,” I told him. “Just passing through, man.”

“You ain't stealin' my stuff?”

“I don't touch nobody's stuff but my own, man, ever,” I replied.

“That's cool... that's cool... okay man. You be careful out here, they're trying to get to my stuff from back here!”

“Okay man,” yeah... now I'm wide awake.

I check the phone. It's 1:30AM... crap! I don't know about you, but if I get woke up in the middle of the night, getting back to sleep is a pain. I was woke up by a tweaker I know not long ago about the same hour in Livermore at one of the spots I sleep at. Yeah, two and a half hours to get back to sleep, and I had to be at work that morning. Crap! And it probably took about that to get to sleep this time.

I could hear Dee arguing with someone rather loudly a while later. I couldn't hear what was being said, but he obviously wasn't happy. In the meantime bicycles ran with headlamps blazing up and down the path next to me at full speed. I didn't try to count them, but I would swear to at least twenty passers by.

I think I saw 4:30 before I finally slept.

The next thing I know I hear the loudest rooster crow I've ever heard in my life! I look over, it's broad daylight, and not three feet from me is a classic red rooster regarding me like I'm some kind of space alien. Damn thing crows again, and I spring up and he high tails off at warp speed... yeah, you better run you son of a gun! Damn bird. Turns out, that's the very last rooster out here. The raccoons couldn't catch that one. He was fast, I'll give him that!

It's 10:00AM, Sunday, August 25th and I don't feel rested at all. Must have been the soft dirt below me. I'm used to the firm comfort of concrete.

At this point I'd gone through two full packs of cigarettes and was worried that the last three I had weren't going to be enough. I thought about taking a walk to Walmart down Story Road to get a couple more packs later as I packed up my gear. I opened another, lit one for myself and walked around to see about meeting the man I'd met so late last night.

He was there. Shirt off, his dark skin gleaming with sweat as he worked on his camp site with a chest as wide as any and over six feet of mostly muscle. I don't see any tattoo's on him, but his carry has prison written all over it.

“You the cat I met last night?” Dee asked.

“That would be me,” I said. “Christian.”

“Dee,” he reminded. “Yeah, those dudes, ma'an they wanted in here so bad and they kept on tryin'! But I kept 'em out. They tried to get to my stuff, then they tried to get to Connie's sh*t, but they didn't get nuthin'!”

“Who was it?” I asked.

“I donno! I'm new here.”

“You from up the creek?”

“Yeah. Been here about two weeks. Those M/F cops they come in, they told us to get the f--- out and now we here.”

I spent a while trying to help Dee out as he re-set his tarps over his untidy camp site. He was building a barrier out of tarps and old shopping carts to make sure he had some security against thieves.

“I hate thieves!” Dee told me. “Lowest form-a-life!”

I spent much of the morning with Dee. When more Christians arrived bringing a slew of pizzas we brought some down and had them. It's all I would eat that day.

When I sat down to write more notes I dozed off again. It was probably about 12:30 when I sat down, and I didn't know anything till four in the afternoon.

Half my time here was gone and I really was nowhere near finding out anything worth telling anyone about. I hadn't yet seen anyone smoking, snorting or shooting meth, though I did suspect it from the activity last night. But that might be explained by the fact that most homeless recycle late at night even in Livermore. It's the best time for anyone to do it as they're the first ones to get the stuff left late at night.

People had been civil and friendly to me, but only a few had opened up to me. The newcomers, mostly, who couldn't tell me much about the history of this place. Troy could, but he was either asleep or out. His gate was locked.

I passed by Patty and Giggles place. Patty was busy doing something with somebody she was obviously not too hip to the idea of me being around for whatever it was (it wasn't sex or drug related, so get that outta ya'll's heads). When I said “I just came by to say 'Hi',” she gave me a little wave and said “Hi.” It was dismissive, so I left and wandered around a bit more.

I ran across Ricky and Luis. They were also newcomers settling in on the periphery of The Jungle. This time from up stream, yet another group that had been recently swept out. They made a big deal about how they were not territorial at all, but I can't buy that from anyone. What I was getting is that they were treading lightly, still unsure of the lay of this land before they find their place. I imagine that takes some time as I'd find out later from Dee.

That's where I ended up the rest of the afternoon. Dee was still working hard on getting his area set up properly to defeat thieves. The daylight was burning fast and it was not looking good. I tried to help him till well after dark when it became clear he wasn't going to finish. That, and he dropped his knife somewhere we couldn't find it.

And here I was again... I'd burned up a day and a half, and this is all I had. I had nothing. Nada. I had a few contacts and nothing more. It might have been a good start if I had a longer stay in front of me. There was no real, earth shaking drama, nothing going on that I was aware of that was worth telling about. The only thing was this notion that the place had become more populated, but was still cleaner than it was, and this mysterious ghost named Indio.

I had thought to find another place to bed down, but ended up, because it was now so dark, to hit the same spot I was in the night previous. Dee was pissed off he hadn't finished, but I was petty sure that nobody could sneak up behind his camp. He'd wanted to be done by now, but losing his knife was a problem. He'd need it if he wanted to finish up the job tomorrow morning.

After I bedded down for the night, he and Connie had a fight on her way out... I'd tell you more about that, but it's really for Dee to tell... or Connie, or both... it was more or less a private matter.

But I slept well that night. I was as exhausted as I had been when I napped earlier.

The next thing I knew it was morning. I cold hear hip hop music coming from a small speaker and moving as if on someone's person.

“That's not very smart,” I heard a calm, soft male voice say with no bottom to the depth of its authority.

I look up, and above me stands this very fit figure of a man clad entirely in black. From his leather boots, jeans, leather jacket and the bandanna he wore the same way Troy wore his, tight around his hair...

What got my attention, however, was the machete he held in his hand...

To be continued...