Downtown Facade

If walls could talk, they would tell of unspeakable things; heinous, hideous and horrors of modern day society alongside hopeful and honourable deeds. The walls that line the skyscrapers of downtown Vancouver are no different than their brothers and cousins around the world. Shiny, reflective surfaces make for a modern look, yet some see it as just a reflection of beauty elsewhere and not in of itself.

One such wall faces the busy Howe Street in the financial district of Vancouver. If it could talk, it would speak of people like the elderly pop can lady, who walks from bin to bin, searching for recyclables. Wearing a puffy black jacket, she confidently dug in the trashcans no matter how bad the stench was or how gross the contents were. She would need nearly four-hundred bottles and cans to make two decent meals a day, or line up for free food at one of the many outreach centres serving the homeless. While the thought of a free meal was enticing, the old lady knew her cart would have to be left outside, which would be at risk of being snatched or thrown in the trash by city workers. Therefore, she never left her cart aside, pushing it along in front of the speaking wall nearly every day.

Jogging past her was an athlete, wearing the latest wireless pods in his ears to drown out the noise of the traffic. The wall would tell you it had witnessed various occasions where the jogger would run past a person in distress, barely casting a glance at the form huddled on the cold floor. Spitting out his gum onto the floor in front of the wall, the wall would have some choice words for the athlete if he could speak. He would tell him to run away and take his garbage with him. Seeing two young women looking his way, the jogger gave them his undivided attention, winking as he passed by them, causing them to let out a burst of giggles. The wall would tell you that his flirting was in any other case acceptable, but the ring on his fourth finger would testify otherwise.

The wall remembered one time when the old lady was about to cross the street, when a stranger hailed her and greeted her with a gigantic smile. With perfectly white and well-spaced teeth, the stranger reached into his bag to give her something. The wall could tell the lady was expecting money or food from the stranger, yet instead he only gave her a pamphlet, wishing her warm and well before hailing the next person. The wall knew this street preacher well, charismatic, a sweet-talker and charmer by nature. Wearing an expensive winter jacket with a fur lined hood, the wall could tell he was a person of affluence; a delicate indoor flower shielded from the wind and rain of the outside world. He roamed the streets preaching of something more important than sustenance, but to the tired and hungry, his message fell upon deaf ears.

On another occasion the wall witnessed a petty thief, so hungry he opted to steal. But it wasn’t his hunger for food that drove him to take, but rather it was his hunger for heroin. The drug let him escape the poverty he was in, the seemingly unfairness, brutal and harshness of the real world. Purposely bumping into a man wearing an impeccable suit, he smiled as he glanced at the wallet in his hand; a high-end leather item. Looking inside, the thief found small pocket photos of the wealthy man, posing with various young women, all promiscuous in nature. Having scored big, he found his dealer, trading in the credit cards and cash for a sizable amount of drugs. Injecting his veins with heroin, he closed his eyes and entered a state of euphoria, with a goofy smile on his face. No longer in a world of dog-eat-dog, he unintentionally overdosed on the drug, causing his pulse to weaken and loss of consciousness. Eyes open but with pinpoint pupils, a throng of people walked by not even bothering to look at the man struggling to survive. The wall remembered the last time it saw the thief, carried on a stretcher into a waiting ambulance. His body unmoving and limp, it would be the last time the wall ever saw the man alive.

Watching the thief being taken away in an ambulance, the drug dealer cursed his luck, as he had lost yet another regular customer to overdosing. The wall in turn was watching him, as he got into his sleek black Mercedes, turning on the engine which hummed ever so sweetly. Driving west into an area populated with expensive apartment buildings, the dealer stopped at his regular spot and prepared to supply several clients with his narcotics. One by one, upper class drug users passed by, inconspicuously trading cash for the addictive substance. Flush with cash, the drug dealer headed to a local bar, where he bought several shots of expensive whiskey and asked for a woman’s company for the night. Several hours later, the wall watched as a young woman ran down the street, looking behind her as if she was being chased by ghosts. Back at the hotel, the drug dealer was unconscious, temporarily immobilized by a short-ranged taser shot. His wallet and cash were missing, taken by the brazen woman that had accompanied him.

Not long later, the wall saw armed thugs searching the streets, hoping to save their boss’ embarrassment of having one of his clients robbed. The wall would have done anything to offer refuge to the runaway girl, but could only watch helplessly as the small army closed in on her. Several minutes later, the thugs were dragging the struggling woman back to the bar, her cheek bruised and with one shoe missing. The wall could only imagine what horrors would be done to teach the girl a lesson and whether she would even survive to see another day.

Several weeks later, the wall witnessed yet another crime, and this time involving complete strangers walking down the street. An elderly woman wearing gold jewelry was minding her own business when she was shoved to the ground by a gruffy-looking man running by. Dazed and completely confused by the attack, the woman slowly got back to her feet, helped by a good Samaritan walking by. The stranger didn’t steal her jewelry or attack her further, but rather continued walking away as if nothing had happened. The wall watched the incident, saddened by the recent uptick in unprovoked attacks on random targets across the city and in its district. The mystery attacker then walked by a patio full of patrons eating their lunch and suddenly upturned a table, flinging food and drinks all around him. Customers screamed and ducked bottles and dishes while others took video of the brazen attack. After nearly a minute of carnage, the attacker fled like the wind, with the authorities hot on his trail. Shouting angrily at no one in particular, the man seemed to be talking to himself, and business men and women gave a wide berth to the delusive man. Hearing sirens approaching from behind, the man quickened his pace, muttering to himself, “Can’t go back, can’t go back. No hospital, no hospital. Can’t go back!”

Soon the man was nearing the place where he first attacked the woman, and the wall could see first-hand the man running with policemen hot on his heels. They shouted warnings to him before jumping him and tackling him to the ground and subduing him. Dragged away to a waiting police car, a crowd gathered around to witness the spectacle. After all the officers and people dispersed, the wall could see the drops of blood on the ground where the assailant hit the paved ground. The wall was seeing more and more incidents of people with mental health problems on the loose in the streets, when instead they should be cared for in a facility to be rehabilitated.

Not long later, the police were back again, but this time they had a business man in handcuffs, accused of laundering money to offshore accounts in tax evasion. Shouting profanities at the officers and uttering threats of legal action, his protests were met with distain and cold-felt justice from the policemen. The businessman had successfully wired millions of dollars of profits to a bank in Switzerland, before filing his company’s taxes. The laundered money costed the Canadian government hundreds of thousands of dollars in tax revenue, stuck in Switzerland in the hands of wealthy blue-collar criminals. With an army of lawyers, the businessman would be punished with at most, a hefty fine and bail conditions, letting him walk free nearly a day later. But the random attacker suffering from delusions would be locked up in jail for months on end, never leaving the continuous loop of offense, reconviction and release.

Despite all the atrocities witnessed by the wall, there were also small acts of kindness that restored hope for a better humanity. The wall tells of an outreach group, who handed out toiletries, hygiene items and socks to the needy. Their warm hearts emanated love as they greeted each recipient with a smile and polite hello. Part of a youth group, they knew that together as a team, they could make a difference in the lives of the homeless and destitute, and handing out packages was only the beginning. The group had been fundraising money to purchase a large dysfunctional gym and transforming it into a shelter with privately spaced-out quarters and room for pets, carts and belongings. In the mornings when it was safer, the wall could see members of the group canvassing for money all along the street. Some people stopped and donated a dollar or two, while others were more generous and gave several bills to the youth. They even teamed up with a local grocery store and handed out food vouchers to the homeless, so they could buy their own food and retain some dignity instead of always relying on soup kitchens.

While the youths’ actions were impressive, the wall also saw a parade of autistic children helping pick up litter, led by their caretakers and parents. To them, it was all a giant adventure, straying far and wide from their homes where they spent most of their days. Unable to take part in regular school, most were homeschooled and tutored by private counsellors who specialized in childhood mental development. Giggling like five-year-olds, they picked up trash and were rewarded by compliments and accolades from the adults. The wall also noted another youth with autism, but he seemed normal and well-behaved, as he melted in with the crowd. He had spent countless hours and expensive therapy with a cognitive behavioral analyst that only the richest could afford. But all that therapy had worked wonders and to the casual eye, and the youth was just another regular person in society. As a child, the youth had been forcefully taught to behave and control their emotions and actions, and rewarding good behaviour while disciplining whenever he acted out of line. As the years went by, his misbehaviour, temper tantrums and selfish nature were tamed, controlled and reprimanded allowing him to live a relatively peaceful life in society and to have an opportunity to succeed where other autistic children could not. While his training and rehabilitation has proven to be successful, the expensive treatment is all but out of reach for most parents.

Watching the sun set to the west, the wall then saw a little girl giving a dollar to a man panhandling on the side of the street. Her mother had given it to her to spend in the store, but after seeing the bearded man with a dirty cap, she decided to give her money to him. Looking at the generous little girl, the man all but smiled and blessed her for her kindness. Across the street, the wall noticed a limousine pull up, and another little girl arrogantly got out with her pet Chihuahua. Shielding her snow-white skin from the rays of the setting sun, she demanded her father to buy her a phone from the store next to him. Her father, resisted at first, but when she started stomping the ground and causing a ruckus, he relented and took her inside to buy her a phone. As the first little girl took the bus home with her mother, they sat next to a man eating a burger in the bus. The little girl’s stomach couldn’t help but growl, as they only had some thin oatmeal as breakfast several hours ago. Patting her daughter’s head, the mom promised they would have sandwiches for lunch when they arrived back home. As the bus drove past the wall, they also drove past the rich little girl coming out of the store with a brand new smartphone. Getting into the sleek limo, father and daughter drove off to eat at a fancy restaurant, where the company her dad owned was hosting a New Year’s party. The wall had seen many little girls like the rich girl, and he knew from the past that their arrogance and ignorance of compassion will leave them no choice but to worship their money, as they had nothing else to live for. It was not uncommon for affluent women to commit suicide after losing all their wealth and prestige. On the other hand, girls like the first one, if they continued generosity will likely find purpose in life, and may very well be rewarded with more than they could ever give.

As the holidays arrived, so too came the lights, holly and wreaths, along with sparkling trees, festive décor and unopened presents. Yet outside the wall, in the freezing temperature, an old man lay shivering, having been forced out of the shelter in the morning. Pulling his thin windbreaker closer around him, he suddenly lost feeling in his toes and panicked. Unsure of what to do, he entered a shelter and asked if they could check his feet. After removing his socks, it became apparent that he had frostbite on his toes and that they were turning an unhealthy red. The shelter staff immediately contacted emergency medical services and soon an ambulance came to pick up the homeless man, much to his protests of leaving his belongings behind. Meanwhile, the wall also saw a man sniffling, blowing his nose and wrapping his scarf tighter around his face. He was also sick, but was heading to a Chinese medicine shop down the road. Walking into the store, he informed the pharmacist of his symptoms, who immediately started collecting a plethora of dried ingredients, weighing them and putting them in a bag. Some of the ingredients included dried ginseng, dried red dates and dried Goji berries. He also prescribed a dried bird’s nest; an expensive commodity making use of the healing properties of the bird’s spit. Taking out his wallet, the wealthy man paid several hundred dollars for all the ingredients, and walked away with his medicine. When he got home, he boiled the ingredients into a herb-infused soup and drank it slowly as he lay on his couch. Pulling his warm heavy blanket around him, he slept comfortably, dreaming of the next day when his cold would be all but gone. The homeless man meanwhile was being moved from ward to ward in the hospital, with doctors and nurses checking in on his feet from time to time. Several times he had tried to get out on his own and to retrieve his belongings, but each time he was caught and was restrained to his bed. His doctor barely entered his room and touched one of his damaged toes before signing off on a prescription and went off to see his next patient, not even staying to ask how the man felt or if he had any questions. His nurse warned him that if he tried to escape one more time, they would have to sedate him to keep him still.

The wall sees such contrasts in class, but for the most part, the wall tells that no matter how different the rich and poor are living in society, both will succumb to the same fate, for no amount of riches can make one live forever. In fact, history tends to repeat itself and there is nothing new in society that the wall has not already observed. It also notices that no matter how well off a city becomes, there will always be the poor, destitute and sick; people who need care from those who are able to help. That in of itself is a part of the purpose of life, to aide and comfort those in trouble, having compassion while understanding to be grateful for what one has already. For without the poor, no one would understand what being poor is like, how it feels to be hungry, sick, ostracized or cold. Therefore, as the wall continues to watch society pass by, one hopes that someday the good it sees will outweigh the pain and crime that happens all too often.