Mark’s Place barbecue carries on legacy of compassion while highlighting hidden homelessness

“Mark was your typical what people see downtown that, you know, that was struggling with drug addiction and mental health,” Abe said. “And he took the path of recovery.”

At one point, she said, de Souza arrived at Olive’s Branch with few alternatives.

“When he came to us at Olive’s Branch, it was his only option,” Abe said.

The organization took him in rather than see him return to a shelter and potentially end up back on the street. Abe said de Souza later described that gesture as something that saved his life because it showed him someone cared about him and his recovery.

That experience did not end with de Souza’s own journey. Abe said he became a strong advocate for others experiencing homelessness, substance misuse and mental-health challenges.

He was particularly determined that people on the street not be reduced to the circumstances in which others encountered them.

“These are human beings,” Abe said. “There were once children. There were once, you know, little girls and little boys, and they never dreamt of their dream to become homeless on the streets, struggling with substance misuse.”

His approach made a profound difference for Kim Suel, who now works at Mark’s Place.

Suel was experiencing addiction when she got to know de Souza. She remembers him repeatedly telling her there was another way to live.

“He always seemed to know where you were,” Suel said. “For some reason, he was really good at finding you, making sure you’re okay and telling you that there is a better way.”

There was no pressure to be ready on his schedule. Instead, Suel said de Souza made it clear that when she decided she wanted to stop using drugs, he would be there.

Eventually, she went to him.

“I finally went up to him and said, ‘Okay, I’m ready,’” Suel recalled.

Within 48 hours, she was in detox.

But getting through the door was only one part of the challenge. Suel said de Souza continued to show up when she felt like leaving detox, encouraging her to get through the next 24 hours rather than become overwhelmed by everything ahead.

“He came to detox like three or four times because I was ready to run, and he was there to support me 100 per cent,” Suel said.

One day became another.

Eventually, Suel said, six months had passed.

It is a memory that also illustrates the message behind the annual barbecue: recovery can begin with somebody willing to see a person rather than a problem.

De Souza originally started the barbecue as a way of bringing the community together so people could meet those experiencing homelessness and begin to see the faces behind the issue, Abe said.

After his death, organizers decided to continue the event and the message behind it.

“When he passed away, it was a huge loss to our community,” Abe said. “So we thought we’re going to carry on his message and his legacy through this barbecue every year.”

This year’s barbecue was combined with a healing fire and coincided with Homelessness Awareness Week, giving organizers an opportunity to challenge another perception: that homelessness has a single, readily visible face.

Abe said public discussions about homelessness often focus on people seen in downtown Prince George who are also experiencing addiction or mental-health issues.

But that picture is incomplete.

“The reality is that there’s a lot of homeless, hidden homeless, like seniors, single parents,” Abe said. “They struggle with homelessness too.”

That hidden population can make the scale and nature of the problem harder for the community to recognize.

Abe said there are organizations in Prince George working to provide services, but she sees gaps for people experiencing less visible forms of homelessness.

“I don’t know if there’s enough supports for those hidden homelessness, for the seniors that are struggling, for the single parents that are struggling,” she said. “I don’t think that there’s enough supports for that population.”

There are also gaps for people dealing with substance use, she added, particularly when they are ready to move into detoxification or treatment.

“We do need to see more access to detox and treatment centres,” Abe said.

She said there are ground-level community supports for those struggling with mental-health and substance-use issues, but entering detox and treatment remains a challenge.

For Abe, awareness must ultimately be accompanied by compassion.

She said people experiencing homelessness did not grow up dreaming that their lives would lead them to the street, and the circumstances someone is experiencing today do not necessarily define where that person’s life can go next.

“This is just a chapter of their life,” Abe said. “It’s not what they want. But we need to have compassion and empathy towards them.”

She believes simply knowing someone is rooting for them can sometimes help a person take a step toward recovery.

That was what de Souza offered.

And for Suel, his willingness to keep showing up altered the course of her life.

“I think I’d still be in my addiction today. I really do,” she said. “Without the support and the love that someone shows you, you can’t do it alone.”

Years after de Souza offered that support, his name remains on the building at Third and Queensway.

And through the barbecue he began, so does his message: see the person, offer support and do not give up on someone who may not yet be ready to give up on themselves.

by Cheryl Jahn

Mark’s Place barbecue carries on legacy of compassion while highlighting hidden homelessness

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