Homeless at 30 degrees: Heatstroke while "making a record" - Homeless in midsummer

"In summer, you look for shade everywhere, put a wet towel on your head, and fetch water from public restrooms," Pino says. "But you still get severe headaches from the heat and are often drenched in sweat."

The 42-year-old Düsseldorf native survived 17 years on the streets, "making records," and he learned to fear the summer heat. Four bottles of vodka a day plus crack were his daily ration until about a year ago. "So much alcohol, and then it was 30 degrees outside—of course, I often collapsed or fell asleep in the sun," he says.

When people like him lie unprotected in the blazing heat, their health or even their lives are quickly at risk, warn experts like Andrea Büngeler, chairwoman of the Paritätischer Wohlfahrtsverband (Parity Welfare Association). "Lack of hygiene while living on the streets, combined with heat and dehydration, can quickly lead to life-threatening sepsis," says Büngeler.

"People are overheating," says social worker Oliver Ongaro, who runs a counseling center for the FiftyFifty initiative in Düsseldorf and has supported Pino for a long time. Many homeless people suffer from circulatory problems and small wounds, especially on their legs and feet, from sleeping on the streets and drug use. "In the heat, these become infected, and maggots can form in the wounds," says Ongaro.

"My legs were completely open," Pino says. "I had bandages around them, and they itched so much in the heat." Even a year later, you can still see the large, dark spots on his lower legs.

The state of North Rhine-Westphalia has again allocated €250,000 for heat protection for the homeless this year. The money will go to independent organizations and initiatives, which will use it to purchase thin summer sleeping bags, drinking bottles, sunscreen, and awnings for shade.

As acute emergency aid, these summer aid programs are certainly good, says Büngeler. But the underlying attitude in some municipalities is more important: "Homeless people are being pushed out of central spaces without offering alternatives. Instead of at least providing acute emergency aid through things like awnings, the opposite is sometimes happening, such as the erection of barriers on benches in sheltered locations."

To truly help, people would have to be taken off the streets quickly – with concepts like "Housing First" for rapid move-in into their own apartment without prior requirements such as drug abstinence and qualification levels, Büngeler demands. But this is a long-term project, given the shortage of affordable housing and empty municipal coffers.

A model project for immediate relief of hardship is the "Jot Drop" program launched last fall in Düsseldorf. Homeless people can shower in the heart of the old town near the "Kommödchen" cabaret stage – warm in winter, refreshingly cool now. Behind the closed door of the shower mobile, they have a quarter of an hour just for themselves and their well-being. "Here they can refresh themselves and recharge their batteries," says project manager Lars Kollender.

Some even sing along, as Stephan Kläsener from the Flingern Mobil program explains. "People beam when they come out, and tears have even been shed."

In the bus, at the mobile shower, there is water and coffee, fresh clothes and underwear, hygiene kits, cooling towels, and sunscreen – many of them on a donation basis. A luxury hotel in Düsseldorf has provided expensive wooden toothbrushes and shaving kits. Nurse Patrick treats minor injuries such as wasp stings or lacerations, disinfects, and inquires about injuries that may require further medical treatment.

Many municipalities are currently visiting the service to learn more, says Kollender. "Jot Drop" is planning a second mobile shower and is hoping for donations. The need is great. In Düsseldorf alone, according to the latest report from the Ministry of Social Affairs, 4,525 people were homeless in mid-2023—almost 900 more than a year earlier, the initiative reports. Around 700 are considered homeless and actually live on the streets.

Things don't always end as well as they did for Pino from FiftyFifty, who now lives in his own apartment, is completely clean, and is training to be a restaurant technician. "He just barely made it back," says social worker Ongaro, "it was a close call." Homeless people with heavy drug and alcohol abuse usually die in their late 40s, he says. "You only see people over 50 if they've been in prison for a long time."

© dpa-infocom, dpa:250818-930-924066/1