Osaka Women's Chat Group.

In a formal, well-manicured park, on a small island created by the fork of the Tosabori River in Osaka, Japan, the Women's Chat Group meets monthly, near encampments of about 100 homeless people, mostly men. The location is quite convenient for half of the group because they, too, live in the park. The others are students, unemployed, or work in women's services.

Shimada Mika and Yamashita Mirsuru are the founders of the group that evolved from a discussion in the park between a housed and an unhoused woman more than one year earlier. Material and nonmaterial support is shared within the group of about ten women. For example, the housed women store pooled cash from those without a bank account, to be drawn out when needed.

For three weeks, I've joined a Japanese team to learn about women's homelessness. We're being hosted by the Chat Group to exchange information. As we sit on blankets on the grass, wet from the recent winter rain, I notice the glass-enclosed tour boats that glide past the grand City Hall and Public Library buildings. As the only foreigner present, I'm interested in understanding their situation, and they're interested in knowing about women in Canada. They seem surprised, perhaps dismayed, to hear that our social programs do not prevent homelessness, but are intrigued that our pension programs more effectively buffer the elderly against homelessness.

Only rough sleepers are considered homeless in Japan -- a very narrow definition. In western countries, those staying in shelters are also considered homeless. In Japan, the vast majority of rough sleepers are middle aged and elderly men -- about 3% are women. In Canada, it is disproportionately the young who are homeless (i.e., shelter users), and about one-third of shelter users are women.

After our 'chat,' we move to an area hidden from view by trees and bushes, and the Chat Group women prepare a very tasty nabe (a sort of hot pot) dish of several courses for all of us to share (the housed women have contributed money for the food). It feels like we're camping, except for the fact that only some of us will return to warm, dry bedrooms for the night.

According to a government survey, there are an estimated 25,000 people sleeping rough in Japan, 5000 in Tokyo alone. They're not hard to spot. In parks, under bridges, and along the rivers, I saw many blue plastic tarps, seemingly standard issue for homeless people to cover their makeshift homes. Some of these 'homeless' homes look quite domestic, with lines of laundry, bicycles parked near the door, and tidily arranged goods for recycling, such as magazines, cans and bottles, and even clothing. No one panhandles in Japan. Yet, there seems to be very limited public sympathy for, or understanding of, those who are homeless. Government action is meager.

Judging by a newly opened shelter I saw -- 600 close-set bunk beds, with no storage space, separated only by cubicle walls off a very long hall -- I know that, if necessary, I would rather put up a tent or shack to maintain my privacy, belongings, and sanity. To me, it feels just like home.

PHOTO (BLACK & WHITE)

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By Sylvia Novac

Sylvia Novae, PhD, is a research consultant specializing in housing, gender and equity issues, and a research associate at the Centre for Urban and Community Studies, University of Toronto