‘Refuge in the heart of the city’

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This article was published 27/02/2022 (934 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

In the heart of downtown Winnipeg sits a heart of a different kind. An unassuming structure on Edmonton Street that serves a different refuge in each of its floors.

In its basement, several groups (most for people suffering with addiction) gather multiple times a week. The St. Francis Chapel, where some come to pray and others come for quiet, sits upstairs. And at its core, 20 women, newcomers to Canada, eat, sleep and thrive.

The Holy Names House of Peace, run by executive co-director sister Lesley Sacouman, wears many hats, but is mainly a transitional housing space for newcomer women. Many of whom are escaping strife in their home country, and will stay up to two years while learning life skills before moving on to more permanent solutions.

Sacouman, a former teacher who was also a co-founder of Rossbrook House youth centre, has been here since the beginning, when she and another sister were tasked in 2004 with creating a space that would support women in need.

“We had no money and no idea what we would do with it,” she said.

The first day they walked in, they opened the doors for 13 hours to the general public, unsure what people would need. Within a month, Sacouman said, a woman asked if she could live in the building because she felt unsafe where she was staying. The sisters agreed — and the purpose of the building began to take safe.

“If she had not asked to live here, well, maybe somebody else down the line would have,” she said. “But that’s what opened us.”

Later, a friend of Sacouman’s who took part in an addictions support group asked if they could hold meetings in the 25,000-square-foot building’s sprawling basement. They agreed again — and took on another purpose.

Now, the House of Peace is always bustling.

The living space (lovingly called “neighbours” by the non-profit) takes up several floors while hosting a variety of programs for its residents, and a rotating array of support groups use the basement. There’s even public washrooms, a rarity in downtown.

It’s a safe place for all kinds, Sacouman said. “It really is a refuge in the heart of the city. We contribute to the revitalization of this downtown.”

Now, they’re fundraising $3 million to buy the building they currently lease.

House of Peace is run by a board of directors and eight staff. Its operation costs come solely from grants, donations and rent based on what boarders can afford.

The building has been rent-controlled since 2004, and if they continue to rent past when the lease expires in 2029, the cost will hit market levels — and become too expensive for the non-profit to survive.

“My hope is to own this building, make sure women who are coming have a home, that the addiction programs have a refuge in the heart of the city where these young struggling people can come,” Sacouman said.

They’re two-thirds of the way there, and Sacouman said she’s confident they’ll reach the goal.

Donors have stepped up at all levels, down to the communal living room: she notes Lt.-Gov. Janice Filmon donated the carpet; True North Sports & Entertainment Ltd. chairman Mark Chipman donated assorted furniture.

Sacouman pays rent to live in the building and doesn’t receive pay for her work. She is 76, and while she doesn’t want to retire any time soon, acknowledges the next director will need a salary.

Not having to pay $78,000 a year in rent would make this happen.

“And then, if we can get a permanent funder for any amount, any amount, just something we can count on,” she said.

It would also mean a permanent place of refuge for women escaping strife in other countries.

One of those women is 30-year-old Yorsaliem Kidane, who came to Winnipeg in 2020 after living in a Sudanese refugee camp. Before that, she was in Eritrea, where she fled after facing forced military service.

When she arrived, she had no options, no friends or family, and much of how to survive in Canada was entirely new to her.

“I didn’t know how to take a bus. I didn’t know where I am going to school. Everything is new for me,” she said. “I don’t have family here.”

Kidane, who has strong political views and is bright and bubbly in a way that belies the trouble she’s seen, is now taking English classes. She wants to be a journalist, she said, and then a lawyer — to speak for women like her.

“I feel safer here and, really, I’m comfortable,” she said. “And I have rights. I know my rights now.”

Sacouman said many women who arrive at House of Peace have similar stories of fleeing oppression. In nearly two decades, neighbours from 45 different countries have stayed in these rooms. Today, there are women from all faiths and languages.

While Sacouman said her faith has an important role in the work she does, the building itself is meant to be non-denominational. Most women staying in the home are Muslim, and they hold dinners for Ramadan, among other cultural and religious holidays.

The true connecting thread, Sacouman said, is the way women, who often don’t speak the same language and have led entirely different lives, will come together and support each other.

“A lot of trauma healing happens here, not by psychology, but just giving people space to breathe,” the sister said. “And they help each other, the women love each other, even if they don’t speak the language. There’s a real unifying principle of a family because you need each other, if nothing else.”

House of Peace is a microcosm of what Winnipeg could be, Sacouman said. Past neighbours, she notes, have come back and donated money — some hundreds, others just $20 but the impact remains the same.

“Community is important. Having an open door, and celebrating the dignity of every person is really important,” she said. “That’s what holds us together in our home, and that’s what holds us together as a city.”

malak.abas@freepress.mb.ca