News (Media Awareness Project) - CN ON: The New Market High |
Title: | CN ON: The New Market High |
Published On: | 2007-01-13 |
Source: | Globe and Mail (Canada) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-12 17:54:55 |
THE NEW MARKET HIGH
An Influx Of Crack Cocaine - And The Crime That Comes With It -
Have People In Kensington Market Looking Over Their Shoulders
On a bright, blustery afternoon this week, Eric Yule went looking for
the shoes of crack dealers.
It took all of 10 minutes for Mr. Yule, who heads the volunteer
Kensington Market Safety Task Force, to find the sought-after
footwear: Hanging from the hydro wires at Nassau Street and Bellevue
Avenue were four pairs of sneakers and a pair of black loafers. "The
dealers hang them there to mark their territory," observed Mr. Yule, a
grief counsellor who lives in the market. "It's an indicator for
people looking to buy crack. We need to get the shoes down to show
that the dealers are no longer in charge of the neighbourhood."
The shoes are signs of a trend -- an increasingly visible crack trade,
and an accompanying increase in crime -- that worries many people in
the area, including Mr. Yule and the 10 or so other residents and
merchants who form the task force.
By all accounts, crack use in Kensington has surged over the past six
months. "You see deals going down in the middle of the day and in the
middle of the night," says Donna Harrow, executive director of
Alexandra Park Community Centre, just south of the market. "You'll
walk down the street and see people exchanging goods [drugs] and money
out in the open. We see a lot more people looking for crack, or
dealers running from the police."
The drug is easy to buy. On Kensington Avenue this week, a dealer
named Jack offered crack and marijuana on demand. "I can sort you out
with whatever you want," he said, looking out for other customers.
Jack, 37, started selling recently to earn a bit of "bread and
butter," although he would not say just how long he had been dealing.
Crack is easy to come by, he said, and is "pretty cheap."
With the rise of the drug -- it now sells for $15 to $20 a "rock,"
which provides four short, intense hits -- residents have reported a
surge of petty crime, as addicts steal valuables to sell for a quick
fix. Break-ins have spiked 16 per cent in the past year, and at least
two women have been mugged at knifepoint in the past few months.
Crack became a major issue for the market in the summer of 2006, says
Adam Vaughan, city councillor for Trinity-Spadina. In October,
residents held two meetings with police and local politicians. During
those meetings, "the stories of breaking and entering were pretty
horrific," Mr. Vaughan recounts.
People complained they couldn't use their garden sheds without running
into prostitutes and dealers. Some said their houses had been burgled.
One single mother said two men burst into her basement apartment, one
bleeding and the other carrying a knife; once inside, the wounded man
threatened her and her two young children, before chasing the other
man out the front door, Mr. Vaughan says.
Since those meetings, city council has done a "safety audit" of the
market, with residents taking a tour accompanied by police, city
councillors and social workers to determine the severity of the crack
problem and what needed to be done. Afterward, the police made several
arrests, says Constable Kevin Deley, community officer for 14
Division, and sent more community response officers out into the market.
Nevertheless, Mr. Yule says, the problem persists, and is threatening
the fabric of the neighbourhood.
Some shops say their business has dropped 40 to 50 per cent over the
past six months as customers steer clear of a neighbourhood where
dealers and addicts intimidate pedestrians. "People don't want to come
to the market any more," says Joe Araujo, who owns Kensington Meats
with his wife, Liz. "If you see on every corner there are dealers on
doorsteps and you have family, you are not going to want to bring your
kids down here."
Like other merchants who have seen business fall with the onset of
crack, the Araujos have found it hard to cope. The couple are now
worried about losing their shop, which they have run for 17 years.
Last month, Mr. Araujo began another job at a slaughterhouse outside
the city, so he now works seven days a week to support his family. The
new job means that Ms. Araujo has to work in the store by herself on
weekdays, which is a constant source of concern, he says.
"I worry about my wife when I'm not there," he says, pausing in the
middle of chopping a cut of meat. "We've been robbed before. The
dealers sit in our doorway to do their business. She's scared too."
"Crack is hurting everyone," says Joanne Morane, 30, who works in a
cheese store in the market. Business at the shop has fallen more than
50 per cent in recent months, she says. A few weeks ago, a drug deal
took place inside the shop as the sales staff looked on, too afraid to
take action.
"We didn't want to say anything because he [the dealer] might have a
knife or a gun or something," Ms. Morane says. "There is a lot of
violence about the market and no one's doing anything about it."
Many locals see the problem's roots in Alexandra Park, a co-op housing
complex just south of Dundas Street, Mr. Vaughan says. This maze of
townhouses and apartment blocks, originally built as social housing,
is poorer than Kensington Market itself and has provided a haven for
dealers. "It has become a place where you can run away from police
very quickly and you can't be followed in a car," he says. "The
reality is that a lot of dealers are connected with Alexandra Park.
They may not live there, but they use it as a social base."
Ms. Harrow agrees with this assessment. Over the past year, there has
been a significant rise in the number of dealers and addicts in
Alexandra Park, she says, but the community centre lacks funds to
address it. "We haven't been able to implement any programs for young
people to keep them away from crack and dealing," she says.
Ms. Harrow is working with Mr. Vaughan to campaign to win funding for
anti-drug programs. Up until now, funding has been difficult to
secure, as Alexandra Park is disadvantaged by its status as a pocket
of poverty in a region of wealth, Mr. Vaughan says. While the city has
named 13 neighbourhoods at risk, Alexandra Park did not qualify
because it sits next to booming Queen Street West and the hubbub of
the downtown core, he adds.
"If you are going to heal Kensington Market, you can't do it in
isolation," Mr. Vaughan says. "You have to look at Alexandra Park as
well. Alexandra Park gets a lot of the blame, but doesn't get a lot of
the help. We need funding for the programs that address the problem in
a holistic fashion."
Until that happens, Mr. Yule and other members of the volunteer task
force will continue to do what they can to help their beleaguered
neighbourhood -- holding weekly meetings, calling the police when
someone is hassled by a user and campaigning for better lighting in
the dark alleyways where the dealers sell. And, of course, looking out
for old shoes.
An Influx Of Crack Cocaine - And The Crime That Comes With It -
Have People In Kensington Market Looking Over Their Shoulders
On a bright, blustery afternoon this week, Eric Yule went looking for
the shoes of crack dealers.
It took all of 10 minutes for Mr. Yule, who heads the volunteer
Kensington Market Safety Task Force, to find the sought-after
footwear: Hanging from the hydro wires at Nassau Street and Bellevue
Avenue were four pairs of sneakers and a pair of black loafers. "The
dealers hang them there to mark their territory," observed Mr. Yule, a
grief counsellor who lives in the market. "It's an indicator for
people looking to buy crack. We need to get the shoes down to show
that the dealers are no longer in charge of the neighbourhood."
The shoes are signs of a trend -- an increasingly visible crack trade,
and an accompanying increase in crime -- that worries many people in
the area, including Mr. Yule and the 10 or so other residents and
merchants who form the task force.
By all accounts, crack use in Kensington has surged over the past six
months. "You see deals going down in the middle of the day and in the
middle of the night," says Donna Harrow, executive director of
Alexandra Park Community Centre, just south of the market. "You'll
walk down the street and see people exchanging goods [drugs] and money
out in the open. We see a lot more people looking for crack, or
dealers running from the police."
The drug is easy to buy. On Kensington Avenue this week, a dealer
named Jack offered crack and marijuana on demand. "I can sort you out
with whatever you want," he said, looking out for other customers.
Jack, 37, started selling recently to earn a bit of "bread and
butter," although he would not say just how long he had been dealing.
Crack is easy to come by, he said, and is "pretty cheap."
With the rise of the drug -- it now sells for $15 to $20 a "rock,"
which provides four short, intense hits -- residents have reported a
surge of petty crime, as addicts steal valuables to sell for a quick
fix. Break-ins have spiked 16 per cent in the past year, and at least
two women have been mugged at knifepoint in the past few months.
Crack became a major issue for the market in the summer of 2006, says
Adam Vaughan, city councillor for Trinity-Spadina. In October,
residents held two meetings with police and local politicians. During
those meetings, "the stories of breaking and entering were pretty
horrific," Mr. Vaughan recounts.
People complained they couldn't use their garden sheds without running
into prostitutes and dealers. Some said their houses had been burgled.
One single mother said two men burst into her basement apartment, one
bleeding and the other carrying a knife; once inside, the wounded man
threatened her and her two young children, before chasing the other
man out the front door, Mr. Vaughan says.
Since those meetings, city council has done a "safety audit" of the
market, with residents taking a tour accompanied by police, city
councillors and social workers to determine the severity of the crack
problem and what needed to be done. Afterward, the police made several
arrests, says Constable Kevin Deley, community officer for 14
Division, and sent more community response officers out into the market.
Nevertheless, Mr. Yule says, the problem persists, and is threatening
the fabric of the neighbourhood.
Some shops say their business has dropped 40 to 50 per cent over the
past six months as customers steer clear of a neighbourhood where
dealers and addicts intimidate pedestrians. "People don't want to come
to the market any more," says Joe Araujo, who owns Kensington Meats
with his wife, Liz. "If you see on every corner there are dealers on
doorsteps and you have family, you are not going to want to bring your
kids down here."
Like other merchants who have seen business fall with the onset of
crack, the Araujos have found it hard to cope. The couple are now
worried about losing their shop, which they have run for 17 years.
Last month, Mr. Araujo began another job at a slaughterhouse outside
the city, so he now works seven days a week to support his family. The
new job means that Ms. Araujo has to work in the store by herself on
weekdays, which is a constant source of concern, he says.
"I worry about my wife when I'm not there," he says, pausing in the
middle of chopping a cut of meat. "We've been robbed before. The
dealers sit in our doorway to do their business. She's scared too."
"Crack is hurting everyone," says Joanne Morane, 30, who works in a
cheese store in the market. Business at the shop has fallen more than
50 per cent in recent months, she says. A few weeks ago, a drug deal
took place inside the shop as the sales staff looked on, too afraid to
take action.
"We didn't want to say anything because he [the dealer] might have a
knife or a gun or something," Ms. Morane says. "There is a lot of
violence about the market and no one's doing anything about it."
Many locals see the problem's roots in Alexandra Park, a co-op housing
complex just south of Dundas Street, Mr. Vaughan says. This maze of
townhouses and apartment blocks, originally built as social housing,
is poorer than Kensington Market itself and has provided a haven for
dealers. "It has become a place where you can run away from police
very quickly and you can't be followed in a car," he says. "The
reality is that a lot of dealers are connected with Alexandra Park.
They may not live there, but they use it as a social base."
Ms. Harrow agrees with this assessment. Over the past year, there has
been a significant rise in the number of dealers and addicts in
Alexandra Park, she says, but the community centre lacks funds to
address it. "We haven't been able to implement any programs for young
people to keep them away from crack and dealing," she says.
Ms. Harrow is working with Mr. Vaughan to campaign to win funding for
anti-drug programs. Up until now, funding has been difficult to
secure, as Alexandra Park is disadvantaged by its status as a pocket
of poverty in a region of wealth, Mr. Vaughan says. While the city has
named 13 neighbourhoods at risk, Alexandra Park did not qualify
because it sits next to booming Queen Street West and the hubbub of
the downtown core, he adds.
"If you are going to heal Kensington Market, you can't do it in
isolation," Mr. Vaughan says. "You have to look at Alexandra Park as
well. Alexandra Park gets a lot of the blame, but doesn't get a lot of
the help. We need funding for the programs that address the problem in
a holistic fashion."
Until that happens, Mr. Yule and other members of the volunteer task
force will continue to do what they can to help their beleaguered
neighbourhood -- holding weekly meetings, calling the police when
someone is hassled by a user and campaigning for better lighting in
the dark alleyways where the dealers sell. And, of course, looking out
for old shoes.
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