We are the same age. We both spent time in Afghanistan during the war. We both love making music. We’ve both been homeless. But I was lucky to have a support network that helped me get back on my feet and avoid ever sleeping on the streets. He had no such luck.
Let’s call him Filip*. He is sitting outside a gallery in central London as we approach him. I am tagging along with vocal leader and composer Aga Serugo-Lugo and a street outreach worker from homelessness charity The Connection at St. Martin’s. This session is part of Streetwise Opera’s Streetsong project, which aims to engage with people sleeping rough, offering support from The Connection whilst allowing them to express themselves artistically. And I am here looking for a way to explain why this kind of work matters.
Aga asks Filip for a song that he likes. He mentions “It’s Okay” by Nightbirde. Filip looks it up on my tablet and when he plays it, it hits us hard. It was composed by a young woman facing terminal cancer, and the chorus says “It’s okay if you’re lost, we’re all a little lost and it’s alright”. Aga starts to play it and as we all sing along to it, it quickly becomes obvious why Filip likes it so much.
He then asks to use Aga’s keyboard, and plays us a song he composed as a teenager, when he was learning the accordion. Aga carries on playing as Filip sings for us. He tells us how much he misses playing music, and we can see a million emotions and memories run through his eyes.
We invite him to join our weekly sessions at the Southbank Centre. The outreach worker reminds him that he is welcome at The Connection if he wants to use their facilities and access any kind of support. Filip shakes our hands with a joy and an energy that were not there when we first met him.
We go on to engage with three other people that afternoon. We sing Oasis classics and compose a proper bop with George, a young man outside Tottenham Court Road station. Louis, sitting outside a library, works with Aga to create a song about Oslo, a city he’s always wanted to visit. And Daniel tells us about his poetry and shares his love for ballet.
As I am on the train back home, I think about what we are achieving with Streetsong. The team at The Connection, who have commissioned the project twice, have told us it brings a different texture to the engagement between their team and people on the streets. This makes sense to me. I’d honestly find it easier to open up to someone after we’ve both belted out the lyrics to “Wonderwall”!
One thing I notice is the effect our sessions seem to have on passers-by. People see us sitting down with someone who is homeless, making music and bringing a bit of joy to the city, and maybe this helps counteract that dehumanising filter through which many people look at homelessness. At least that’s what I imagine as I watch two children who stand near us, enjoying our impromptu performance with George.
I think back to when I first started working for Streetwise Opera and I asked a service user at The Passage (another of the homelessness support centres we work with), why he was so keen to attend our workshops even though he didn’t know where he would sleep that night. “This is the one moment in the week when I feel human”, he said.
I don’t know if Filip will approach The Connection anytime soon. I don’t know if his smile and energy have faded. But I am certain of one thing. If it had been me on the streets, I would have loved for someone to come and remind me that there are reasons to hold on to joy and hope.
* All names have been changed to protect identities.
