River Jayden runs Streetwise, an organisation designed to help the homeless of Christchurch. (Video first published in August 2018)

River Jayden, a former homeless heroin addict, has co-founded charity Street Wise. Vicki Anderson joins her to meet some of Christchurch's street whānau.

He is a street prophet loudly beseeching me to deliver a message to society from the city's homeless.

His angry face is close to mine as he shoves an index finger near my eye.

As we stand on Hereford Street in central Christchurch, I see in my peripheral vision mothers leaving Wendy's full of joy and ice-cream pulling their children close to their sides, gripping their hands fearfully.

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Others cross the street or stand, holding briefcases, a suitably safe distance away hesitantly observing.

These street whānau who call the spot we stand on home, are aggrieved.

This is their day-to-day grind, the hard shuffle, the struggle to survive. Some enduring life on the streets in a harsh Christchurch winter don't make it out alive.

The man who is passionately yelling at me about society's ills is speaking his truth but thinks no-one wants to listen or care.

"We have been left behind," he yells and it reverberates around the inner city street, above the sound of traffic. "We helped dig the bodies out of tonnes of bricks lying in these streets after the earthquakes but you left us here, you all left us behind."

Sadly, to some, his battle for survival is measured only by how many businesses are financially affected by his hungry presence in their shop doorway.

DAVID WALKER/STUFF River Jayden (right) stops to chat with Conor Galloway.

How did we get to this point?

When my eyes meet his I see his surprise and then something changes in his demeanour. I nod and his eyes soften further – don't get me wrong, his voice doesn't falter, he's yelling and spitting rage, he hates reporters, his finger is still waggling accusingly in my face.

Underneath it all, underneath the fear, vitriol and fury, the man has a point.

"Society left these people behind after the earthquakes," he says, waving his arm around us.

"When the earthquake f...ing happened, society ran for the hills. We were here with our shovels, they left us behind in the shit... Bro, we were lifting bricks off dismembered bodies, we saw things we should never see. We have got to live through it for the rest of our lives. I suffered PTSD through that and I struggle every day, I've been years out on the street."

He pauses and says, despite appearances, he is not angry. I sense the volume of his voice merely reflects his sense of injustice.

"The truth has got to be told and I'm going to tell it and someone is going to listen," he says, taking a step closer.

"We are individuals – I have no drug or alcohol addiction. A lot of us, these street people, we do good too, we are not all bad... We are here, we are doing the best we can. We are homeless, we have had it rough from society from day one, now they are getting all snotty that we are in the way. We get blamed for society's problems, society is the problem, not us."

Eventually, having gotten this off his chest, he turns and hugs River Jayden, who pats his back reassuringly and offers him a cup of coffee.

Jayden is the chair and co-founder of Street Wise, a charity which is "delivering kindness and justice to those with no fixed abode". Through donations of clothes and food, Street Wise provides to those in need.

She greets the street whānau by name with hugs and warm drinks.

ADDICTION AND HOMELESSNESS

Jayden more than most understands life on the street.

"I had a heroin addiction and lived on the streets in Melbourne for a long time," she says, brushing hair from her eyes and crouching on the pavement as she pours milk into a cup of coffee. "I've been clean for seven years now."

DAVID WALKER/STUFF River Jayden is "delivering kindness and justice to those with no fixed abode" through her Street Wise charity.

One person she knew as a child growing up in Lyttelton but only met again recently, is Conor Galloway. He has a stick of incense tucked behind one ear which is billowing smoke. He is polite with a cheeky sense of humour and is a talented harmonica player and beatboxer.

Posing with one leg exaggeratedly forward on the footpath, he says with a grin that every item of clothing he is wearing - from the cap on his head to the shoes on his feet - came from Street Wise.

"I want to get clean," says Galloway. "I can't get into Odyssey House, the waiting list is too long, they won't tell you how long, just that it's long. I'm trying to do it by myself... it's hard, you get them shakes... it's been two days now since I used."

He's been living on the streets since he left prison in 2015 after less than a year in jail.

Now he has an addiction to "homebake" heroin. He's trying to get clean on the streets, by himself. He is entitled to a benefit but thinks he can't get it without a permanent address. He has no valid ID so can't open a bank account.

Each of these things feels like an insurmountable hurdle when you don't know where your next meal is coming from and sleep is fraught with danger and counted in short moments in a freezing street in a shop doorway.

As a man in a military uniform passes us on the street, Galloway salutes, and stares after him. He says he attended the Aranui Service Academy and had big dreams to go into the military himself until things "got out of control".

"The system right now isn't working for these people," says Jayden. "Take Conor. He's a smart guy, if he'd have gotten the right help three years ago who knows where he'd be right now.

"On the street there are a lot of mental health problems, people with schizophrenia … dealing with Work and Income is often simply too difficult for people with mental health problems, something needs to change."

Synthetic cannabis is a huge problem and this winter, according to the community of those on the street, addiction has anecdotally claimed the deaths of at least three people. These deaths are mourned deeply by the street whānau. Suicide among the street whānau is another hidden problem.

STREET WHĀNAU GROWING

"Every day we see first-hand the horror and damage that is caused by substance abuse and the perpetual cycle that so many find themselves trapped in," says Matthew Mark, Christchurch City MIssioner. "We need to find better ways to support those suffering from addiction."

Mark says that those living on the streets range from teenagers to senior citizens. Women represent just over 20 per cent.

"There is a very wide range of ages represented in our whānau living on the streets … with no notable commonality in age groups of those represented; it is truly broad," he says.

"Throughout this year, there has been a notable increase of, particularly younger people, from outside of Canterbury, and generally from the North Island."

The Christchurch City Council recently approved support for one outreach social worker to work in tandem with a like role from within the Christchurch City Mission's team and Mark is hopeful that this will be of great benefit.

"This is an exciting partnership that has been borne out of some very purposeful discussion throughout this year with the council, police and the central business district recognising the impact on individuals and business and the desire to ensure we value, respect and look after every part of our community."

A City Mission and council count last September tallied 215 people were sleeping rough in Christchurch but Jayden puts this figure, gained from those registered with MSD as homeless, at "348".

DAVID WALKER/STUFF The long wait list for addiction services means Conor Galloway is trying to wean himself off "homebake" heroin while living on the streets.

The street whānau is a tight community. Since the recent death of a key older figure in the community last month, many are grieving. Sometimes this grief presents itself as drunkenness or aggression.

Recently police increased foot patrols after complaints about "aggressive begging".

Those living on the streets say that a small group of people, who have homes but sit on the street begging, are the ones being aggressive, not them.

Service supervisor, men's services at Christchurch City Mission, Phil Clarke, says many of the long-term homeless do not beg.

"Some of the young ones sit with their cardboard signs," he says. "But others have too much mana."

Galloway, a tattoo of a dollar sign under his left eye, had his picture in the news recently. He was shown sleeping beside his skateboard which has since been dumped by authorities.

"My picture was with a story about aggressive begging. I'm not an aggressive guy," he says, incense smoke puffing out from behind one ear. "I'm the nicest guy if you get to know me. I believe in a greater consciousness and that we are all part of it, we are not individuals, we are all one … together."

BLANKETS, CLOTHES THROWN OUT

Jayden says some of the street whānau were recently trespassed from the CBD. They have "been moved" into hotel accommodation by Work and Income at the cost of "up to $600 per week".

"Our donations were chucked out," says Jayden. "Blankets, tents, clothes ... Now they're in hotels that cost up to $600 per week.

"It means they have to go into Work and Income, which is scary for someone who has got mental health problems.. they have to plead their case for accommodation every week. It is a lot of taxpayers' money that they are wasting which could be put to better use somewhere else for these people."

ALDEN WILLIAMS/STUFF City Missioner Matthew Mark says the homeless range from teenagers to senior citizens.

Marcus Watts has been living on the streets for 20 years. He doesn't think trespassing people will achieve anything.

He points across to where two people are begging.

"They are not homeless, but they are struggling," says Watts. His voice is gentle and he smiles often, dark curls of hair bouncing around his face. "But then again we are all struggling out here."

Councillor Anne Galloway, Safer Christchurch chairwoman, says since February the council has initiated and hosted multi-agency forums that have included "the City Mission, police, CDHB, MSD, Drug Arm, representatives from the streetie community, hospitality, business community and numerous others".

"We have worked in collaboration to compassionately address our concerns for both those who have been reduced to begging and at the same time taking very seriously the impact their presence is having on the inner city businesses and our residents' perceptions of our central city," says Galloway.

Homelessness is complicated and often is the result of other problems. It's not as simple as giving someone a home – often mental illness or addiction goes hand-in-hand with homelessness.

HOUSING 50 PEOPLE PER YEAR

John Filsell, council's head of community support, governance and partnerships says the Christchurch Housing First partnership, led by the Christchurch Methodist Mission with other key non-government organisations, is contracted with MSD to work with 50 high priority homeless people per year, providing both housing and intensive support as needed.

Nicola Fleming of Housing First Christchurch, which has been working with the city's street whānau since late May, says it has housed three people.

"We are so new, we have only been running for eight weeks but we have some key outreach workers on the ground. We're hoping to get them into housing and give them wraparound services to help with addictions, mental health issues, getting a job or anything like that they need. We are funded by MSD for a couple of years," says Fleming.

"We have three people into homes which is so great it makes you cry. They are so excited, just happy to be able to call something their own. The stigma around homelessness is real, even ourselves as Housing First are finding it difficult to find office space, people think we are going to run a soup kitchen or have homeless sleeping outside."

Some of the people I meet do have warm homes to go to but still choose to come back and sit on the street with their friends because the quiet loneliness of their homes is a foreign environment.

On the street, every person has their own patch.

TOUR OF THE TARPAULINS

Kirk Hargreaves The former Addington Sale Yards has been used as a place to meet and sleep by some people.

Harry, who I first met in 2013, when he was living behind a container on Gloucester St, takes me on a guided tour of the city through his homeless eyes. That hole in the wall beside the bank is someone's home. A bunker at a golf course is home to three, sometimes four men who share what little they have with one another.

By the former Addington Saleyards, where this week plans for a $100m hotel and housing development were announced, there's a makeshift blue tarpaulin hidden from sight of those driving over the Blenheim Rd overbridge.

In a pub carpark on Hereford St is some of the "car tribe" – people living in their cars. Many of them are employed but homeless. Some are families waiting for spots in the City Mission down the road.

Conor Galloway used to sleep in a cemetery – "Ruru Lawn, by the eco dump" – but moved to the inner city streets when people began throwing bottles at his tent late at night. It's not safer in town, but at least he's not as isolated.

"Friday and Saturday nights are the worst out here," he says, waving an arm down Hereford St..

Drunk people pick fights or kick and punch the homeless as they lie shivering or sleeping in doorways.

At the men's day centre, homeless men share their stories from the night before. There's a strong sense of camaraderie.

"One man comes in from Hornby to get a cup of tea and to talk to someone every morning at 10am, it might be the only social interaction he has that day," says Clarke, as he looks around the room at the men he has come to know well.

His eyes rest on a new washing machine and dryer that is the talk of the place - finally, the men can clean their clothes.

"It's all about respect."

A SMILE GOES A LONG WAY

DAVID WALKER/STUFF Marcus Watts says not all beggars are homeless but "everyone is struggling".

Street Wise is just getting started but Jayden is clearly passionate about making a difference.

"I think our street whānau are beautiful human beings," she says. "For whatever reason they've been dealt tough cards. Everyone deserves a second chance and everyone deserves to be treated like a human being."

Sitting in Cathedral Square, Jayden looks around her.

"Yes, they are sitting by a sign and yes they are in a vulnerable place," she says. "But a smile goes a long way – treat people how you would want to be treated. It's pretty simple."

Street Wise is holding a community pot luck with the street whānau called Everybody Eats, Everybody Helps. A social night of "breaking stigma" it will be held on August 4 and features coffee, music, food, art, storytelling and haircuts.

The last word must go to the man who, unlike Galloway and Watts, did not wish to be photographed for this story.

"We are sick and tired of having the finger pointed at us, everybody points at us but nobody is prepared to lift a finger to help us. Treat us with kindness and respect. A smile and a 'how are you going?', it's not hard."