YMCA Valletta - More abuse for the homeless...

Yesterday – 6th March, 2015

THE YMCA VALLETTA; the new players in Thursday night bingo.

From Valletta to Msida, I have attempted to ask at least six different businesses and two local councils for internet use to no avail. I am unfortunately out of computer time with The Ministry for Employment and Education and with regards to the Public library, I had insufficient time left (and of course the internet at the Floriana Council is not working today - out of all days).

Last night I was informed by two local businesses who have asked me not to mention them that they have had strict instructions from the Ministry (and they refused to say which one) not to allow me internet use, which apparently circulated very quickly after I left the YMCA and this is why:

Another ordeal at the YMCA, what’s new?

I went there after exhausting my internet time of 1hour with The Ministry for Employment and Education for some clothes only and did not speak with anyone, as the last I opened my mouth, an illegal file was created behind my back – they couldn’t wait to raise concerns in favor of my husband who at the time was appointed, as a new employee with the Ministry for Social Solidarity on the condition he gets rid of me first (and let me remind you all that the YMCA fall under their umbrella); we are not friends!

I find YMCA staff somewhat unreliable and dishonest like my husband, a problem with people of this culture; but not everyone is the same, let’s not forget that when I am generalizing communication to make my point.

While I was searching for some clean clothes through their donation tub, as mine are starting to smell like dead fish, the YMCA had some visitors; which did not bother me at all, as I just continued going through the donations that are free of charge to the public (keeping to myself). Occasionally I would go outside and check the stains on garments that seemed to be my size as it was too dark inside for my eyes. Then staff (I think her name was Beatrice – let’s just call her that for argument sake) started coughing loudly a couple times as she passed me from behind, I just thought she had a cold and it's that time of the year after all and so I ignored it and continued on quietly.

Minutes later a lady and a few others walked in to the YMCA, who started competing for clothes that were donated but they weren't poor, actually pretty well dressed from what I could tell. In the spirit of sharing, as the clothes are there for everyone, I sat down on the floor in the back corner of the room and kept to myself and allowed the visitors to look at and take what every they wanted to – I can’t carry too much on me anyway, I was only looking for a clean change of clothes that fit.

Then the older lady, as she was looking at me, started going through some of the clothes that I picked out that I placed on my back pack that was resting on the yellow couch positioned at the opposite end of the room – nowhere near the donations tub – which I allowed and said nothing to keep the peace. But she wasn’t satisfied, despite making a mess of them (as I piled them neatly on my backpack); she helped herself to my Rosary Beads and monitoring me from the corner of eye, she put them in her bag.

I grabbed her attention immediately and with my hand out, insisted she return them back to me; she put them in the palm of my hand but not without a fight and whole lot of backstabbing in Maltese. She had the support of Beatrice, who gladly joined in the Bitch Session and all of a sudden it was four against one, as all the others obviously lacked entertainment at home and wanted a part of the action; they were doing their best to bait me into a heated argument but I refused them any communication and turned the other cheek, ignoring their pathetic school yard bullying tactics, behavior that I grew of at the age of 6!

They all saw that I was disengaged and left the YMCA making fun of my Rosary Beads on the way, as if they have no value; and let me tell you for those who believe in God, they are more valuable than a diamond ring.

Beatrice was angry because she failed to engage with their game playing; I don't know why she was pissed off, when I was the one under attack and by right, I should have been angry at her but I guess I've got tolerance and she obviously in the wrong line of work. We were left alone in the room together and she started yelling at me, talking down to me and swearing at me, which I continued to ignore saying NOT A SINGLE WORD TO HER; but heaven help should she have laid one finger on me, I would have knocked her cold. While she had her back turned to the door carrying on like a spoilt child who failed to get her way, which is not only unprofessional but also illegal when you are dealing with the homeless, a lady standing by the door trying to get her attention caught her in the act and by surprise. Beatrice quickly changed face and was all of a sudden playing 'Ms Sweet as Pie' just until the lady left and we were alone again in that room and it was then that she instructed me to leave (throwing me out) denying me the opportunity to take some clean clothes with me to change into; 'you can go and leave everything here' she said twice. I continued to ignore her and then with back upright, she threatened to call the police, which I welcomed without speaking a single word continuing to refuse her communication ...and I continued to sit on floor waiting for her to pick up the phone so I can press charges of abuse and misconduct upon the arrival of the cops; but of course she was full of shit because she knew I would not hesitate in wronging her in the presence of police.

I learned such tolerance from my mother, as a child in her care – thanks to all her abuse, I know how to ignore people without fear of retaliation.

Another staff member appeared from the back room and suddenly Beatrice changed face, back into 'Ms Sweet as Pie', nice and composed she was, the same switch that my husband was good at pressing in his head when people in the presence of authority.

I remained seated on the floor and continued to fold the clothes, as I didn't want to leave the area in such a mess and did my best to leave them folded neatly back in the box; but I was not allowed to complete folding and packing all of them, because Beatrice gave me a five minute warning before closing for lunch. In the spirit of complying, I packed what I didn't have time to fold, on the couches (so they are off the floor) and got all the rubbish off the floor into the bin that other people had left behind in that area and on the way with a smile sweeter than hers, I left saying to the male staff member by the door, 'THANK YOU'.

Q. If it’s not there for the homeless, then who is there for?

...and this is what the document should have looked like with sufficient computer time and internet access!!!