DRUG USERS FILE IN AS INJECTION SITE OPENS

Low-Profile Beginning for Highly Controversial Pilot Project

Vancouver's -- and the continent's -- first injection site for drug
users opened quietly and without fanfare Sunday night.

It drew an unexpectedly large number of users, given that there was no
publicized opening and that official statements had said it would open
sometime after today.

Twenty people used the site within the first two hours after staff
decided to open the doors at 7 p.m., while many others dropped by to
take a look or pick up a needle.

Still more simply observed Insite, as it's called, from the sidewalk,
where people stopped to look through the brightly lit windows at 139
East Hastings and watch as staffer Tanya Jordan-Knox talked to new
registrants.

Jordan-Knox, who referred to many of them as "my darling," got them to
fill out a simple user-agreement form with their name, birthdate, and
"identifier" code -- a requirement that Health Canada has set for the
site since it is a scientific pilot site.

The first non-staffers in the injection room were Dean Wilson, a drug
user who has been one of that community's most vocal advocates for
better health care for users, and a quiet man named Michel Chartrand.

While Wilson sat at a booth talking to the two nurses on duty about
making some changes to the centre, Chartrand unfolded the tiny
envelope of paper he'd bought on the street and carefully poured the
cocaine powder into his syringe.

He turned to get water and found, to his surprise, that there was
already a small vial of it in the plastic kidney tray he'd be handed.

His left leg shaking with impatience, he mixed the powder and water,
tied off his right arm with the blue rubber tourniquet he'd been
given, and pushed the needle into his right arm with little fumbling.

Chartrand, a 43-year-old originally from Ottawa, has lived in the
Downtown Eastside for 13 years at the Portland Hotel.

Chartrand is not sure how regularly he'll use the site; he has a room,
so he's not desperate like some.

But he says it's important for others.

"It will be safer for these people. They do it in the neck, and when
you do your neck, it goes directly to your head. Or you see a lot of
people just poking themselves."

While Chartrand talked about how he arrived where he is, others slowly
trickled into the room. He is the son of a long-time civil servant in
Ottawa who studied architecture, but quit a year before he got a
degree. He picked up an HIV infection from sharing needles with people
he was partying with when he was in his early 20s.

Others who walked through Insite's doors included an older man from
the rooms above the site and younger man from a hotel up the road, who
came back later with a homeless friend of his who normally shoots up
in the alleys using puddle water. A young woman with brown, curly hair
sang quietly to herself after she fixed, then stood up, did a few
stretches, and then a careful cartwheel down the centre of the room.

But, in spite of the buzz of activity that hadn't really been
anticipated, the atmosphere was low-key, with more staff than users at
some points and everyone involved in the site's management on hand to
make sure everyone was prepped and ready to go.

The site had been open for a community party earlier in the day, but
by 6 p.m., only staff were on-site getting ready to open and dealing
with last-minute glitches.

Dan Small, one of the management team at the Portland Hotel Society,
which is co-managing the site with the Vancouver Coastal Health
Authority, went across Hastings at one point to talk to four police
officers who were standing directly across the street from the site.

When he came back in, he reported to his health authority counterpart
that he'd asked them if they would mind moving to another spot.

"I told them there's a lot of urban myths on the street that the
police are going to bust everyone here. They said they didn't want to
bother anyone and they'd move along."

Small had checked earlier and the two officers who are specifically
assigned to the site -- part of a team of eight that will be site
liaisons -- were stationed at the corner on the end of the block.

Another manager, Kerstin Stuerzbecher, went over with the two nurses
the procedure for any possible overdoses in the "chill-out" room where
people go after they've done their fix.

Portland Hotel Society manager Liz Evans said the team decided to open
the site early and without warning to give staff and users a chance to
start without a wall of media around. The site attracted international
media attention last week when it held an open house for the public.

There are currently 59 injection sites operating in 33 other cities in
Europe and Australia, but Vancouver's pilot is the first North
American experiment.

It has generated opposition both locally and as far away as
Washington, D.C., where U.S. drug czar has called it "state-sponsored
personal suicide."

Health workers and drug users have been lobbying for an injection site
for years, as part of a series of health services aimed at preventing
overdose deaths, disease, and other serious health problems that often
afflict addicts.

The Downtown Eastside, which is estimated to have 5,000 addicts in the
immediate vicinity as well as serving the drug-using population for
the region, has achieved worldwide fame for its HIV and Hepatitis C
infection rates among the drug-using population.

While opponents say that a site like this simply enables drug use,
advocates say that people can't go into treatment if they're dead and
better health services like injection sites keep them alive.

The Vancouver site will cost approximately $2 million a year to run
for its three-year pilot, in part because Health Canada set high
staffing levels as a requirement.

Some advocates had warned that Health Canada's registration and
procedural requirements would discourage users from coming.

That didn't appear to be true on Sunday as people came through the
door.

"I've been counting down the days," said Bradley Clark, a 36-year-old
who said he lives on the streets because he says it's cleaner and
safer than being in a hotel or shelter.

Clark, who sat sharing his views on life with staff in the chill-out
room after fixing, said he's got mixed feelings about the site. He
definitely thinks it will help many people stay healthy and, just as
important, give them a place to go where they are treated like normal
human beings.

"For some people, this might be their only healthy, non-drug-related
interaction."

On the other hand, he says, it does create a perhaps too-comfortable
atmosphere for users. And, although he personally supports the site,
he believes that "we need detox on demand more than a safe-injection
site."