FLASHBACK: Street kids of Nairobi… A young boy was recently being interviewed by Undugu social workers. His only possession seemed to be an old burlap sack. When asked why he wouldn’t put the sack down as they talked, the boy replied warily, “This is not a sack. It is my father and my mother, my house, my car, my farm and my daily bread. I can’t steal without it.”

Combined excerpts from two separate articles, originally published in Kenya in Executive Magazine, January 1993, and Survival, Spring 1994.

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Being at the forefront of street children-related work in Kenya, it is sometimes necessary for the Undugu Society to assume the role of advocate. This is especially true when cases arise where it is obvious that the rights of the children, as espoused in the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, have been violated. One such case occurred when government authorities decided to close down a rescue center at Kariokor Market, one of the busiest sections of Nairobi. An extremely harsh crackdown left several boys incarcerated among adults- - a direct contradiction of the statutes related to child protection in Kenya. The boys were hounded and even physically assaulted during their ordeal. While it is true that many of these boys were not model citizens in any sense of the word, they are citizens, and human beings, nonetheless. And though we wish in all good conscience to be able to report that this incident was an isolated case of overzealousness by a few officials, we are sorry that our pursuit of the truth in such matters does not allow such a softening statement to be made. To the contrary, such occurrences are so commonplace that to report them regularly would entail the hiring of a full-time investigative reporter, to be assigned solely to the juvenile courthouse, the approved and remand school systems, and the police stations citywide. Reprinted here is the editorial column from the March 1994 edition of Flash, the in-house quarterly newsletter of Undugu.

In the April –June, 1993 issue of Flash, our editorial outlined the work being done by the Child Law Project, whose proposed Children’s Act seeks to refine and consolidate the often conflicting and unclear legislation pertaining to child protection. We noted then that Attorney General Amos Wako has said that this act should become law sometime during this session of Parliament.

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To date, this has not yet been done, thus the Children and Young Persons Acts, Chapter 141 (last revised in 1972) remains the definitive legislation on cases specifically dealing with juveniles and others, including street children. In light of the recent developments involving the boys from Kariokor, it is instructive to note the following sections of this act, and we would ask the proper authorities to pause and consider whether the rights of these children are in any way being violated:

CAP 141, Section 23: (1) If any person who has the custody, charge or care of any child or juvenile-

(a) Willfully assaults, ill-treats, neglects, abandons or exposes him, or causes or permits him to be assaulted, ill-treated, neglected, abandoned or exposed, in any manner likely to cause him unnecessary suffering or injury to healthy shall be guilty of an offence and liable to a fine not exceeding five thousand shillings or to imprisonment for a term not exceeding six months or to both such fine and such imprisonment…

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CAP 141, Section 5: Arrangements shall be made for preventing persons under sixteen years of age while detained in a police station, or while being conveyed to or from any court from associating with adults charged with or convicted of any offence other than an offence with which a person under sixteen years of age is jointly charged or convicted…

CAP 141, Section 14: Every court in dealing with a person under eighteen years of age who is brought before it shall have regard to his welfare and shall, in a proper case, take steps for removing him from undesirable surroundings and for securing that proper provision be made for his maintenance, education and training.

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In the first two instances (Section 23 &6), readers of our special report in this issue (the closing of the Kariokor Rescue Centre) will not have to stretch their imaginations too far to acknowledge the possibility of violations against our children by the very agencies entrusted to protect them. With regard to Section 14, a recent visit to the Juvenile Remand Home in Kabete, (one of 10 such home throughout the republic) revealed a situation so shocking and depressing in its scope, that it is hard to imagine how the courts assigned to deal with these children would be able to abide by that law.

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Built to hold 80-100 children, Kabete’s population fluctuates from 200-300 and has in recent months reached as high as 500. With manager Bakala Wambani lamenting a near total lack of funding from the government, the children held at Kabete have no salt or milk in their diets. Many appear to be malnourished, a worse condition than we find them when living on the streets. Scabies is rampant, as there are precious few medicines to treat this or any other illnesses. There are only two qualified social workers, with ten other staff members handing various responsibilities. Even with probation officers sent periodically from the Children’s Department to help follow-up the vagrancy cases (which constitute the majority), processing is slow. It is not uncommon for a child picked up on a street corner to end up spending more than a month waiting for some decision to be made on his future. In the meantime, those categorized as needing protection and care (P &C) are mixed together with those officially determined to require protection and discipline (P&D). The result—hardcore cases end up influencing and often spoiling the more innocent children. In December last year, the government released 17m shillings from the Treasury, to go towards the “repatriation” of children to their home regions. Already dozens of children have been shipped to police station in places such as Kakamega and Mombasa.

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This may stem the flow of children to the streets temporarily, but realistically it is like trying to empty a sinking canoe with a spoon. Long-term solutions are needed. Just as Undugu Society needs funding to maintain our programs, so the relevant government ministries need to allocate sufficient funds to improve the quality of services at the remand home and approved schools. It was pointed out to us that there was once a “ State Maintenance Fund,” which was used to finance the education of needy children. There were even cases of children being sponsored clear up to university level. Reviving this would be a major step in the right direction.

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Without such efforts of good faith, and until policeman and others in positions of authority learn to treat street children as human beings, not whipping boys, the chances are the system will continue to further harden, rather than help, society’s most unfortunate souls.


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Representation and ownership; the delicate case of W. Eugene Smith’s Tomoko image

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“Even the most compassionate photojournalism is under pressure to satisfy simultaneously two sorts of experiences: those arising from our largely surrealist way of looking at all photographs, and those created by our belief that some photographs give real and important information about the world. The photographs that W. Eugene Smith took in the late 1960s in Minamata … move us because they document a suffering which arouses our indignation—and distance us because they are superb photographs of Agony, conforming to surrealist standards of beauty.”

                                                                                    * Susan Sontag

You will be told we must continuously show these images as a reminder of what must never happen again! These arguments, I believe, are specious when looked at without the filter of the mass media. The classic Aristotelian notion of tragedy, which calls for the dramatic presentation of  “ … incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions,” seemed prescient in the age of photographic representation. Yet while such photographs may arouse pity, fear or anger, it is hard to imagine what cathartic value the perpetual viewing of, to put things crudely, a dead or dying body might have, regardless of it’s historical or political significance. 

To this end, Sontag has also written:

“To suffer is one thing; another thing is living with the photographed images of suffering, which does not necessarily strengthen conscience and the ability to be compassionate. It can also corrupt them … after repeated exposure to images it also becomes less real … The sense of taboo which makes us indignant and sorrowful is not much sturdier than the sense of taboo that regulates the definition of what is obscene. The vast photographic catalogue of misery and injustice throughout the world has given everyone a certain familiarity with atrocity, making the horrible seem ordinary …” 

Outside the realm of censorship, however exercised, photojournalists, documentarians and defenders of the genre have historically shown little restraint or reflection in the use of more “important” images. Actions against this deeply ingrained sense of representational duty are rare, if not blasphemous.

In 1998, pundits were aghast when Aileen Mioko Smith, the widow of master photo-essayist W. Eugene Smith, heeded the pleas of the Uemura family to bar all future use of one of Smith’s most enduring images, “Tomoko is Bathed by Her Mother.”  The photograph, a classic example of Smith’s unabashedly Romantic sensibility, with trademark high-contrast printing to further enhance the chiaroscuro lighting, had been taken in 1971 as part of an essay on the effects of mercury poisoning in the Japanese fishing industry. The photographs published in Life magazine, and in the book entitled “Minamata,” came to symbolize the plight of the families afflicted with birth defects and other illnesses. Notwithstanding concerns expressed by purists that Smith had engaged in some decidedly questionable journalistic ethics by staging the image in the most dramatic light that could be found, the photograph is held up as a shining example of humanitarian documentary work, nearly as impressive symbolically as it is narratively.

The Uemura family eventually prevailed in the first Minamata Disease trial against the Chisso Corporation, but a few years later Tomoko, only twenty-one years old, passed away. In an emotional letter written in 1998, Tomoko’s father outlines how the famous photograph has, over the years since their daughter’s death, become a crucible, outliving it’s original usefulness:

“ … we were faced with an increasing number of demands for interviews. Believing that it would aid the struggle for the eradication of pollution, we agreed … as a result rumors began to circulate … `They must be making a huge amount of money from all the publicity’ … I do not think that anybody outside our family can begin to imagine how unbearable these persistent rumors made our daily lives … in 1977 we were contacted by a French television company who were planning to produce a program entitled `One Hundred Photographs of the Twentieth Century,’ and they said it was vital for them to use … Eugene Smith’s `Tomoko.’” I did not want to take part in this program so I turned them down … I wanted Tomoko to rest in peace and this feeling welled up in me steadily.”4

In response, Smith, who had worked with her husband on the Minamata project, and had been intimate with the Uemura family, agreed. In a letter to the media, she wrote:

“Generally, the copyright of a photograph belongs to the person who took it, but I think that it is important to respect the subject’s rights and feelings. Therefore, I … promised that I would not newly exhibit or publish the photo in question. In addition I will be grateful if any museums who already own or are displaying the work would take the above into consideration …”5

Aperture magazine, widely respected as among the most excellent arbiters of important photography, dutifully published a response that brushed aside copyright concerns. Instead,  it served to chastise Aileen Mioko Smith for giving away what was not hers, violating a trust rendered sacred forged by an unconditional, long-held sense of protective ownership.  Never! Imagine the precedent! Aristotle himself might’ve appreciate the manner in which the removal of the photographs from public view would provide those most personally affected with the catharsis necessary to complete the dramatization of the tragedy, but it was not to be…

Eugene and Aileen Smith’s Photograph of Tomoko and My Family

by Yoshio Uemura

Tomoko was born on June 13, 1956. A few days after her birth, Tomoko began to exhibit trembling fits. She cried every day and we were unable to leave her side. We thought this strange and took her to various hospitals in Minamata City, but none of them were able to say what was wrong with her. She was later suspected to be suffering from cerebral palsy. However there was really no treatment for her but to give injections to her tiny, thin body.

It was not until November of 1962 that Tomoko was recognized as suffering from congenital Minamata Disease. At this time she already had three younger sisters. On December 26th of that year another sister was born and by 1969 she had a total of six siblings. Despite having so many children, looking after Tomoko took a lot of our time. A single meal would take about two hours for her to eat and so just feeding her would occupy more than five or six hours every day.

The first Minamata Disease lawsuit began in June 1969 and went through forty-nine hearings before the proceedings were concluded with the final judgment being handed down on March 20, 1973. During this period, people from all over the country offered their support and among them were Eugene and Aileen Smith, who had rented a house near ours in Detsuki from Tadaaki Mizoguchi and were photographing the families of the victims of the disease.

Among the many photographs they took, there was one of my wife Yoshiko holding Tomoko in the bath. Yoshiko told me that Tomoko had let her body lie straight without trying to curl up. To be honest, we had thought that the photograph would only take a brief moment so we had agreed to the shoot without giving the matter a second thought. I was told that Tomoko seemed exhausted when she got out of the bath.

The photograph went on to become world-famous and as a result we were faced with an increasing number of demands for interviews. Believing that it would aid the struggle for the eradication of pollution, we agreed to the interviews and photographs and the organizations that were working on our behalf used the photograph of Tomoko frequently in their activities. However, as a result, rumors began to circulate in the neighborhood and among other people around us. “They must be making a huge amount of money from all that publicity.” This was untrue. It had never entered our minds to profit from the photograph of Tomoko. We never dreamt that a photograph like that could be commercial.

The truth is that we did not benefit financially at all from the photograph. I do not think that anybody outside our family can begin to imagine how unbearable these persistent rumors made our daily lives. Sometimes we had to face the flashes and hot lights of television interviews, and although she could not speak herself, I am sure that in her heart Tomoko felt that because of her, we –her father, mother, sisters, and brother– were having to go through such pain. As her father, I found the thought that this concern existed in the corner of her mind extremely unpleasant. Several years before she died, she began going to the hospital many times and each time she came home she was smaller than when she went in. She never smiled any more and seemed to become progressively weaker.

Despite this, Tomoko still had a strong will to live and she was treasured by everybody in the family. I regret so much that I could do nothing to soften her pain…the fevers from colds, the suffering, the only slight relief she could get from the injections and medication. The treatments probably provided but slight relief for her. I have now come to believe that the sole thing that sustained Tomoko was her parents and siblings, her family’s love gave her reason for living, and perhaps enabled her to survive as long as she did.

I am sure that it must have pained Tomoko not to be able to express her gratitude to those who helped her come as far as she did, but I think it was the absolute love and affection my wife offered her that made her life worth living. The industry as well as the national and regional government sent us and untold others to the bottom of hell. And the whole lot of them neglected to save lives but instead bailed out the company. And the company that caused thousands to fall victim now survives as though it has never committed any sin.

The court case was concluded, but victory has no value to the deceased and the seriously ill. And even if the government were to apologize officially, this would do nothing in the slightest to relieve the symptoms of the victims. Tomoko died on December 5, 1977. She was 21 years old. All we could do was to hold vigil before Tomoko who had departed us in silence. I could not hear the words of those that paid homage to her in the funeral procession. Their words could not enter my ears. In blank stupor, Tomoko departed to heaven ahead of her parents, leaving behind her sisters and brother…

In 1997 we were contacted by a French television company named CAPA who were planning to produce a program entitled, “One Hundred Photographs of the Twentieth Century” and they said that it was vital for them to use “the picture that captured the environmental problems of Minamata, Eugene Smith’s ‘Tomoko’.”

I did not want to take part in the program so I turned them down. I know what television interviews involve and also, many of the organizations that are working on our behalf are using the photograph in various media, many of them in places we do not know about. I realize that this is necessary for numerous reasons, but I wanted Tomoko to rest in peace and this feeling welled up in me steadily.

Hearing the way I felt, Aileen came all the way from Kyoto to visit me on June 7th last year and she promised to revert all rights of decision to the picture of Tomoko to my wife and I. We later received this promise in writing and a copy of it appears on the following page [below]. I and my family are filled with gratitude from the bottom of our hearts toward Aileen. I thank her deeply for this wonderful gift to Tomoko. I feel that Tomoko is now finally resting in eternal peace. I ask all of you for your support and understanding.

His letter ended:

1. I,  Aileen Smith, return the photograph entitled “Tomoko is Bathed by her Mother” to Mr. and Mrs. Uemura.

2. This means that the right of decision concerning the use of this photograph reverts to Mr. and Mrs. Uemura.

3. In the future, when any requests are made to me concerning this photograph, I will explain the following (see separate sheet) and refuse use of this photograph.

October 30, 1998

Aileen Mioko Smith

Regarding the Photograph, “Tomoko is Bathed by her Mother”

by Aileen Mioko Smith

The photograph entitled “Tomoko is bathed by her Mother” was taken in December 1971 by Eugene and Aileen Smith. At the time, Tomoko was a plaintiff in the first Minamata Disease trial and was suing the Chisso Corporation for damages. Her parents wanted society to know about their daughter and therefore agreed to the taking and publishing of the photograph.

Since 1972, this photograph has been published in Life magazine, a book of photographs entitled “Minamata” (1975 in English, 1980 in Japanese) etc., causing a huge response, and became a symbol of Minamata Disease.

The plaintiffs won their case in March of 1973 but sadly, Tomoko died in December 1977 at the tender age of twenty-one. Despite this, however, the photograph continued to be used as a symbol of Minamata Disease in books and exhibitions, leaving a strong impression on a large number of people. I later heard that this resulted in a certain amount of conflict within the minds of her family, who wanted to see the end of the kind of pollution that caused the problems, while at the same time wished to let Tomoko rest in peace.

Generally, the copyright of a photograph belongs to the person who took it, but the subject also has rights and I think that it is important to respect the subject’s rights and feelings. Therefore, I went to see the Uemura family on June 7, 1998 and promised that I would not newly exhibit or publish the photograph in question.

For the above reasons, the photograph entitled “Tomoko is bathed by her Mother” will not be used for any new publications. In addition I will be grateful if any museums etc. who already own or are displaying the work would take the above into consideration when exhibiting etc. the photograph in the future.

October 30, 1998

Aileen Mioko Smith (Copyright Holder)

None of us…

65-year-old women (or men) shouldn’t have to sit on the ground like this. Days like today, you feel the weight of the struggle our friends go through, and get down over the reality of how slow, or non-existent, change seems. “One of us” feels more like “none of us.” Lynda is still largely laid up with her rib injury, working on some new pieces, excited about the possibility that she will be able to show, and possibly even sell, some work, and is more determined than ever to get the hell out her dead-end existence and into a small apartment somehow…. Like her friends Rebecca and Rachel, she’s now hoping that Friday will bring good news when she goes to apply for an HUD apartment. 

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Set to the rousing Gospel at Colonus, all the faces of One of Us…

Open the shelters, the funding is there…

Her message was loud and clear, though most of the people in attendance at the Los Angeles Housing+Community Investment Department’s celebration of 25 years of achievement in the fields of affordable housing (and homelessness, by proxy) weren’t in the mood to listen … with $1.5 million already allocated to enhance the emergency shelter system into a year-round program, Laura Rathbone arrived to plead that there be no more excuses. She wasn’t on the agenda, and my request to have access to the microphone (I intended to turn my time over to her) was shushed due to “time constraints.” Laura, denied the opportunity to explain the situation in more measured tones, and maybe a little put out by the fact that she had been running all over the city on a daily basis trying to find someone who could unlock the Armory doors, went all Norma Rae…. Lives were on the line– just as there are lots of people who refuse to go into the shelters for a variety of reasons, there is also a segment of the homeless population who do not want or cannot cope with living out of doors. If only the powers-that-be would listen, and realize that hundreds, even thousands of people are on the streets because of decisions like this one.

The thing that sticks with me the most after watching this a few times is how the officials around the perimeter of the rotunda just carried on as if nothing was happening. Laura was just speaking the truth, trying to help people who due to the closure of the Sylmar Armory suddenly have to fend for themselves outdoors. Besides the obvious irony of turning a deaf ear while the gallery is filled with larger-than-life portraits of the class of people Laura was speaking for, it’s absurd that not one person in a position of authority approached her to find out more, to see if there was any validity to her claims, to even recognize that there was a problem. This was during an event focussing on the city’s commitment to finding affordable housing and lifting the homeless up. Yet when my wife went to ask if they could turn down the music that had been cranked up to drown out her voice, she was told “no, there’s a time and place for everything.” Real solutions to homelessness in this city thus remain elusive, or at least move along at what must seem a glacial pace to the marginalized, afflicted and dispossessed.

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With curious uniformed officers in pursuit, Laura was long gone by the time we gathered for this photograph with members of the North Valley Caring Services and the Museum of Social Justice. It felt great to be surrounded by so many dedicated activists, family and friends including Richard Conner, a gentleman of many talents.

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All the photography displays in the world won’t make a bit of difference if those in power don’t take action… big, beautifully printed photographs become just entertainment for the elite to feel good or bad about. Case in point– I took Gracie to a neighborhood council meeting last December, where she spoke out about her predicament and pleaded for understanding. Two weeks later she was in handcuffs and carted off to jail…


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Dislodged

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How much trouble can one life endure in just 66 years? The joys, the meaningful pleasures, the temporary reprieves from the sameness of living out of doors, these can’t take root when you are suddenly forced to abandon your base camp on the sidewalk next to the 7-11, and follow police orders to clear out in 30 minutes or else… so it was this morning when Gracie suddenly came chugging around the corner into Craig and Lynda’s encampment, pushing a loaded shopping cart in an agitated state. Lynda was sound asleep (so it seemed when I dropped bag of nail polish, this one donated by a student). Craig, thinking with his heart first, quickly said yes when Gracie indicated she needed to move everything into their space, like pronto

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Things did get a little testy when Craig arrived on his bike to help with the move. After a minute of watching her pull back tarps and stuff items into milk crates and carts, he let Gracie know that she would have to take a quick inventory and thin out her belongings, if mainly to avoid upsetting the apartment building dwellers in the cul de sac, who were giving tacit approval to the presence of the little makeshift duplex. (Earlier, while discussing which local stores had the cheapest groceries, Craig told me he was planning to go behind the chain link fence and tidy up the strewn rubbish)

As Gracie sorted fretfully, a guy in a small pick-up stopped to offer three full McDonald’s breakfasts he had somehow inherited, and just around that same time another group of Good Samaritans came over to offer us more food, and were directed over to Terry and Amy’s side. Craig and Mike ate lustily but it was all lost on poor Gracie who now had to wrack her brains and shift into full survival mode again… 

A few hours later her blond ponytail was seen bobbing along the sidewalk under the freeway bridge. “Turns out it was a false alarm,” she said into the car window, without sheepishness and still a little beside herself, before continuing along on the way to pick up her clothes at the corner laundromat.

Ties that bind…

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Craig and Lynda are now resigned to avoiding the constant hassle of the overpass life, sharing a dead-end side street butted up against the chain link fences meant to keep people away from the freeway. This new spot is equidistant between where the others still stubbornly squat near the money-generating ramps on busy Nordhoff, and the saving grace of the old Methodist Church and community center run by the North Valley Caring Services a few blocks east. Even though Craig, Lynda, Gracie and rest are loathe to take advantage of the food pantry, breakfasts and other services, it’s not an exaggeration to say that with Manny and others so ready to come to them, their proximity to the mission is almost comforting in itself.

It wasn’t surprising to find Gracie relaxed and pleased to greet company, sitting alone in Craig’s tent, spirits buoyed by her new status as the “honorary grandmother” of a baby girl recently born to Emmy, the raw-boned gal who along with boyfriend Mike were caught up in the ultimately unhelpful New Year’s Eve crackdown that put most of the group (including Mike) in the clink. Now living close to Gracie on the sidewalks off Nordhoff, the couple are part of what Craig somewhat emotionally refers to as their family, which includes everyone mentioned so far plus Terry and Amy. “We’ve had our spirit broken,” he confesses, “but we got it back.” 

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Gracie Crilley wants to help get Emmy into a drug addiction program, so she can get off the street and care for her child herself. 


But there’s more… there’s always more…


The child’s twin did not survive until birth. This happened outside, on the ramp, though in the overall scheme of things was not overly dramatized, and everyone soldiered on. Emmy’s aunt in Santa Clarita has taken the baby in, hence the  studio portrait Gracie pulled out of her shirt to proudly share. The printed photograph stabs at the heart, a throwback to a simpler, pre-digital time It will not lose it’s preciousness even as it weathers and fades, as a possession stored in a refugee’s belongings must do, and relatively quickly. Slipping back into the first-person witness of the human condition, I feel an uncomfortable sense of awe at the resilience and capacity to endure hardship my friends often show. What I am moved so much by is not Gracie’s cracked fingernails, or the depth-of-field you can achieve with an iPhone, but her happiness while sharing the news, the photograph, the experience of being a grandmother. Don’t believe this photograph. Or at least believe that for a few minutes, Gracie was smiling.

Can somebody please get this woman (and her family) a place to live?

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“Photography for me is not looking, it’s feeling. If you can’t feel what you’re looking at, then you’re never going to get others to feel anything when they look at your pictures.”

* Don McCullin

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Mercy

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Manny Flores and his outreach team from the North Valley Caring Services bring warm meals, hygiene kits, human kindness and even prayer to people living outdoors. Encampments, alleys, sidewalks, the wash, even groups camped inside the bushes of public parks are visited each Wednesday night. It requires just the right blend of missionary zeal, street cred and unconditional love to gain and keep trust. Some of the spots, such as the  “Trails” encampments that line the 405 freeway, are home to the hardest cases of chronic homelessness, notorious for tough, sometimes fatal living conditions. Deaths among the homeless and other street dwellers in this repressed section of North Hills are surprisingly common, and Manny talked about some recent incidents while driving his loaded-down pick-up through the night traffic between spots.

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Randy, an elderly gentleman surviving the elements and lung cancer, talks to volunteer Lauren Rathbone and her service dog, and unburdens himself to a sidewalk ministry.

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MOTEL LIFE

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Outreach includes regular visits to families who have secured temporary shelter in motels along Sepulveda Boulevard, through a voucher program provided by  Los Angeles Family Housing. Kids and adults congregate on the balconies as doors open to greet the visitors. One of the motel rooms we visited housed a family of ten…

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Heart

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