Dispossessed: Mother of 11 lives on just £7 a day per child
The movies? Have I ever taken my kids to the movies?” Barbara
Harriott repeats my question with a sense of incredulity and by way of
reply flings open the door of her musty living room where six of her
youngest children sleep. “Three of them share this double bunk, two are
on single beds and one uses that pull-out settee,” she says, beginning
the grand tour, her baby on her hip.
“The two older boys sleep
up here” — she heads up the uncarpeted wooden stairway — “and I sleep
with the baby across the hall from my oldest girl. Can you imagine,”
she says, “how much it would cost if I took all of my kids to the
movies? I'd have to save for a year!”
Ms Harriott, 44, has 11 children, nine boys and two girls, ranging
in age from 25 years to six months. They all live, bar the oldest, in
an overcrowded house in Lewisham with four bedrooms, two lavatories,
one bath and a small kitchen where they eat in shifts. Their
home is a picture of poverty: peeling walls, damp mouldy ceilings, bare
bulbs, heating turned down to save on gas bills, and clothes stuffed
into plastic bags and piled on landings like the back room of a charity
shop. This week the Evening Standard is publishing a series of articles
highlighting the plight of
London's
dispossessed, the 41 per cent of the capital's children who live below
the poverty line, and today we focus on a type of family often
stigmatised as “spongers”.
We often take a critical view of women such as Ms Harriott whose
children have been fathered by five different men, none of whom married
her or stuck around to help. In her case, it's costing the taxpayer a
small fortune, the state funding her housing costs, council tax, and
daily living expenses to the tune of £38,844 a year. Yet seen from her
children's point of view, after housing costs, the family are left with
£543 a week to live on, the equivalent of just £7 a child per day, and
well below the poverty line for a family like theirs of £689 per week.
Born in south London, Ms Harriott never knew her father and was brought up by her
Caribbean
mother who worked on the production line of a toy factory. “I lived
with my mother and younger brother in the spare room of my aunt's
house, and my aunt looked after us while my mother was at work,” she
begins. “For a while we were a happy family but my childhood ended when
I was six and my aunt, who had her own husband and children, threw us
out and we ended up on the street.
“But you also have to give me some credit because despite my
shortcomings, I have created a happy household and I am a very good
mother. My eldest has a solid job working for a clothing company, the
next two are in college, none are in jail, none are on drugs, and none
are on the child protection register. I also realise that ending up
like me, living off the state, is no example, and so I tell my
children, do well at school, have goals, have a career before you have
children'
She begins to cry and says: “I love this country, I owe everything
to this country, but it's so difficult in London living off £7 per
child per day. I don't drink, I don't smoke, everything goes on
essentials and yet by the end of the week, the cupboard's bare.” She
opens her fridge to reveal a bunch of carrots, some celery, and a loaf
of bread.
She points to the kitchen units falling off their
hinges. “Every piece of furniture in this house is second-hand or
donated. It's impossible to save. We still don't have a computer. The
children haven't had Christmas presents or a meal out for years. The
only time we go out as a family is to church on Sunday. Recently my
14-year-old Asher needed new school shoes, but I couldn't afford them.
His teachers had a whip round to raise the 50 quid.”
She outlines
her weekly budget: £95 for utilities, £17 for a bus pass, £20 for
telephones, £3 for her TV licence, £10 for Sky (“our only luxury”),
£350 on groceries (“strictly no-name brands from
Iceland or
Tesco”), and £30 for debt repayments.
It
leaves her less than £20 for essential clothing and, crucially, nothing
to cope with emergencies like last year when Lewisham council
mistakenly cut off her housing benefit for four months.
Source of Story MORE