I knew who he was. Not his name. Nothing about his life. Just had a good idea about his attitude towards personal hygiene.
Poor hygiene practices and inadequate sanitary conditions play major roles in the increased burden of communicable diseases within developing countries.
Probably very true.
However, for those of you here in the United States or in some other "Developed" country, as you enjoy your afternoon tea and crumpets (hopefully with honey, poached eggs and lots of jam) take a second and ponder this: "Where do the homeless bathe?"
Last year I would step into the bathroom and "wash up" before dinner, or after a 30 mile bike ride, take a shower to "get clean".
However all that changed when I started living on the streets. Even before I became hungry I faced the issue of personal hygiene. On probably the second day, but certainly by the third day, I knew I stank.
For the homeless, personal hygiene comes with its own set of struggles.
I didn't have any money. I didn't belong to a health club, or even a YMCA where my membership had yet to be canceled. Each morning around 5:00 AM I would wander from the park bench, bus stop or the doorfront that had served as my bedroom. The weather was extremely cold so I slept bundled up. Basically the first or second night I put on every piece of clothing I had in my backpack. My morning destination was the nearby bus station or train station. The bus and train terminals were very cold as the doors are constantly opening and closing with arrivals and departures. I pretty much sat all day at a table wearing everything, or, at most, I may have removed a layer for a few hours.
After several days in the same clothes I should have known some of the foul odors I was picking up were not just emanating from the other bums I saw in the stations. Horror set in one afternoon when my head started to slide down in a nod and approached the table. Just before clunking my chin, I lurched up when my nose encountered a foul stench. Oh my god that stinks I thought. Then the realization hit. "That's me!"
I remember hearing some of the morning commuters asking "What is that smell?" during those early days. I had thought the same to myself when I would wander around the stations. "It is absolutely disgusting," you reply to yourself as you continue walking along. Then you realize that this smell just keeps on following you, it won't let go. Slowly I realized I had joined the ranks of the unwashed. I was a bum and I was beginning to stink.
May I offer for you reading pleasure: This post may contain some profanity
You may also enjoy reading: Goofyfoot: riding with the right foot forward
I am by no means ready to die! So, with that fact established, let's begin at the beginning: See links for all the Genesis posts to date: Genesis Through My Eyes
In my not too distant past, if I were to see a street person, a bum, sleeping in a door front or on a park bench, I would have kept my distance and perhaps shrugged my shoulders.: He had the "smarts" to ask someone where to go, I didn't
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