Tuesday, October 12, 2010
11:25am, 180 Augusta Ave. Toronto, ON
I am at a café with my visiting father, waiting for breakfast to be served. We are facing the window and notice a young fellow has collapsed on the sidewalk. He is sprawled on the pavement, unmoving, with legs haphazardly strewn. His head is close to the curb and his arm hangs over the street. I go outside to see what help he may need and see him seizure for a split second. He appears to be passed out from intoxication, and homeless. There is a crowd of six grown men from the butcher shop next door staring at him and laughing a few feet away. They are carrying on as if this fellow is performing for them. The owner of the café comes outside, looks at the man and lights a cigarette. I say, “He’s seizuring” and he shakes his head “No he’s not.” I observe the man and smell the scent of mouthwash several feet away.
I dial 911 for an ambulance since none of the now dozen people standing around watching in amusement seem to think there is anything wrong. Did I mention this man is Indigenous? Did I mention the crowd of onlookers is White? While I’m on the line describing the situation to the operator, I stand in front of the man and observe him in case he needs first aid. He is unconscious, breathing, hasn’t seizured since the first time. A concerned young man comes over to check the fellow’s pulse and I let him know I’m on the phone with 911. I look to my right and a woman is also on the phone with 911, I let her know I am on the line with them. She hangs up her phone and observes.
The ambulance siren approaches but it is not quite there. The man awakes and starts smashing his head into the pavement. One of the six laughing butchers - a young man, breaks away and kneels down to protect the back of the fellow’s head with his hand. He calls him by name and tells him to relax. The fellow seizures a bit. I relay the details to the operator, and tell the young man the fellow is again seizuring. He says, “No he’s not” and laughs.
Then the ambulance arrives. The two attendants come over, recognize the man and call him by name. He is unable to stand on his own but they force him, legs limp behind. One of them leaves to grab the stretcher, and the fellow dangles precariously with the remaining attendant. A fire truck pulls up, and six firefighters stroll up casually with grins on their faces. They are in no hurry. As they approach they call the man’s name, as if he’s their buddy. The man can’t form a sentence and they are all telling him to stand up. They are all White. Meanwhile, the attendant remarks again by name to the fellow, “If you could stand on your own, we’d let you go, but you can’t.” They get him on the stretcher and put him inside the van. The lady who also called 911 says “Thank-you” to me and gives me a water bottle to give to them. I do.
I had identified myself as the caller upon the ambulance’ arrival, and as soon as they saw the man, no one asked me for any further details for the rest of the intervention.
I go back inside, and wonder at the cavalier manner in which this man is treated. Two cops arrive and peer into the back of the ambulance. I go outside and talk to one of them. I say that I was the caller; that I am a mental health worker, and I ask what the plan is to deal with this fellow? What will they do with him once they take him to hospital? Will they immediately release him or connect him to services? The cop tells me I don’t know anything about this man. Why would I ask about that? I say it’s obvious he has gone through the system many times and I’m wondering what the plan is to help him, as opposed to continuing the revolving door. He tells me I don’t know what he needs. He tells me I don’t know that he’s been seen before. I don’t know that he is passed out from intoxication and has substance misuse issues.
I tell him he obviously has been through the system as every attendant and fire fighter that was here addressed the man by first name, repeatedly. The cop continues to challenge and deflect. I ask him why he is so defensive, and reiterate that the man is clearly known, and that he clearly has complex issues and needs some treatment in the form of extended stay, so again, what is the plan? The cop continues to deflect and I give up. I say “Have a good day,” throw up my hands and leave. From the very first word this officer interrogated my every statement. At some point he also made mockery of my judgment as a “Mental Health Worker.” He had started to explain that the man would “obviously receive Aboriginal services” and trailed off, and returned to attacking my every question, basically with the attitude of “What do you know? You don’t know anything. You have no business here.”
I wonder why there is such a discrepancy in the urgency and attention paid by the 911operator, and yet this officer had no interest in any discussion about this man’s welfare. The image of Frank Paul, a Mi’kmaq man in Vancouver, who was known to police and ambulance attendants, and was taken to jail intoxicated, made to crawl out of the jail cell upon becoming conscious, and led into the alley where he then died comes to mind. Is this how we treat and care for Indigenous people in this place we call our home? This place we claim as our country? Does the mostly White service system who are charged with his care think it’s simply enough to let him go, to not run any tests on him whatsoever despite knowing he was seizuring and violently banging his head on the pavement? Do they think it is okay to force a man who is barely conscious and can’t stand to do so?
Why is it that the majority of onlookers (all carrying White privilege except for the other woman who phoned 911) thought it appropriate to laugh and stand around, without one thought to call 911 or offer any assistance? Why did they continue to stand around and laugh when the ambulance came, and afterwards?
Is this how we treat Indigenous people in Canada? When we are face to face with the legacy of colonialism, residential abuse, and genocide, do we simply point at the victim, laugh, tell him to stand up straight and then toss him to the curb? The body language and lack of care shown by all the service people charged with his welfare was not even apathetic, it was nonchalant. It indicates they have written him off. They do not give a thought as to the consequences of not providing him with adequate care, or how the abandonment of their duty is yet another example of a careless, racist, victim-blaming system that laughs in the face of tragedy.
When this man dies, will they be so cavalier in their words and gestures if they face an inquiry for their participation in his death?
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