FEATURE-DRUG-ADDICTED WOMEN BUY TIME IN HEROIN HELL

VANCOUVER, - Jane was a psychiatric nurse at Clark Institute of Psychiatry
in Toronto for 10
years after she graduated from college in 1973 and embarked on what
she thought was a promising career.

But Jane, who had been sexually abused as a child, ended up for a time
as a patient in the hospital where she worked before she ran away to
Canada's west coast. There she found crack.

"I came here (Vancouver) in '85 with one girl and had three more. Got
divorced. He kept the kids 'cause he had lots of money and was more
stable and I came down here 'cause I wanted a fix," she told Reuters
on East Hastings street -- the city's drug haven -- her hands buried
deep in her long coat.

"I wanted to do heroin and I didn't want to do it around my kids ... I
didn't fix until I was 42. I know I started late in life but I don't
regret it," she said as she arranged for a hit with some fellow
addicts in the back alleys of East Hastings.

Jane, educated and with a promising career, is one of many who
migrated to the unofficial dumping ground for a country that often
lectures the rest of the world on the need for social services. The
images there are stark. Historic buildings with their original marble
floors have been transformed into dank, run-down drug motels for those
who can afford it.

Stores are covered with protective metal bars, if they are open at
all. Blatant drug use and prostitution are visible in broad daylight
for any and all to see or take part in. Parking is freely available
for those adventurous enough to drive in the eight blocks that make up
this heroin ghetto.

'DOPE'S MY LOVER'

The people who live there can be exceedingly friendly and very eager
to discuss their experiences. "Anything you want to know?" Jane asked
this correspondent, desperate to have her experience documented.

"You can ask me anything. I haven't had sex in a year," she offered.
"Dope's my lover," she yelled out as we walked away.

Last year, 365 people died of confirmed or suspected overdoses in
British Columbia, a record. It is estimated up to 4,000 drug users,
one-third of them women, live in Vancouver's drug district. It is
seen as Canada's version of death row but overdoses are not the only
killer in this part of Vancouver.

Marilyn had just found out she was HIV positive the day a Reuters
correspondent ventured into East Hastings. Her bleached blond hair
teased high on her head, looking unbalanced on her skeletal legs, she
asked for a tissue to wipe her tears.

Marilyn does not know how she contracted the disease but assumes
someone with the virus used water from her water bottle for their
needle before shooting up heroin. Although she says she has not lost
hope and will go for another test, she begins to panic as we walk away.

"You'll keep track of me, won't you?" she asked Lincoln Clarkes, who
has been documenting these skid row women in photographs for the last
year. "I don't want to lose touch with you," she pleaded through
tears, desperately hanging on to the threads that connect her to the
world outside Hastings street.

Few will ever cross the invisible borders that make up this heroin
ghetto alive. But Jane, although she insists she does not intend to
quit drugs any time soon, says she will one day leave this
self-inflicted hell.

"I want to help young addicts. I want to go around to schools and talk
about addiction," she said, echoing the claim of many women on heroin
alley. Until then, she bides her time between her 10-hit-a-day habit

and writing poetry to the 17-year-old daughter she has not seen since
she was four.