DaVida

“They see you but they don’t see you,” DaVida told me about that people passing by on the sidewalk bordering Balboa Park. She sipped her coffee, still reclining under blankets, comfortably surrounded by friends likewise taking their time to wake up on this wide stretch of grass. DaVida has a knack for creating community. She was the mayor of a homeless camp with 50 residents in Alabama for five years until the city closed them down. “People would drop off firewood,” she told me. “I’d be in my wedgies, Daisy Dukes, a halter top, and I’d come back to camp with a 50-pound log and all the lazy guys would just stare at me,” she said, still obviously proud of her physical strength. She cooked with a “one-eyed burner” much like she still does for homeless friends in San Diego.

At age 65, she has been living on the streets for 52 years; most recently six years in San Diego, three years in Oceanside. Her father threw her out when she was 13. “He told me to ‘get the fuck out. You’re old enough to find a place, get a job.’ So I moved in with friends but I still went to school.” She got her GED eventually in prison on her birthday. Up until she was kicked out she took care of her brothers and sisters - changing their diapers and cooking. Her father was abusive and since she was the oldest he took out his frustrations with any of the kids on her. “Every time the other kids did something wrong I got beat: stripped naked and sent to the woods to get hickory sticks. He dared me to cry. One time I was out of school for a week because I couldn’t sit down.” When she did return, her teacher took her to the principal’s office. The principal wanted to call police but she begged them not to because she knew her father would beat her again.

Her father was eventually killed while DaVida was in prison. Investigators called it an accident but the siblings knew he was murdered. He had taken his beloved 1979 Buick Riviera to fill milk jugs with gas. Police said there was some sort of electrical short and a lighter was found on the passenger side floor, but the kids knew he didn’t smoke. One sister had the car crushed after the fire so any evidence of foul play was destroyed. Their mother also died while DaVida was in prison. DaVida’s sole brother joined the Air Force. He is currently serving a life sentence in a North Carolina prison for raping three girls.

DaVida Longfeather got her first name from a character on NCIS. Her last name comes from the fact her mother was a member of the Crow tribe. DaVida has shamanic powers, she said, and can eradicate evil spirits. She cured one woman back in Alabama who, when she found out that DaVida was homeless, went and found her and brought both her and her dog Gator, a greyhound/Irish setter mix puppy, back to live in her home for several months. DaVida returned the favor by using her food stamps to fill their empty refrigerator. Their favorite meal she made for them, she said, was a mash-up of tater tots, mushroom soup and ground beef (or TVP for vegetarians) topped with cheese and baked for half an hour at 350 degrees. She smiled at the memory of those flavors. DaVida has always loved to cook. She spent years cooking on cruise ships and in high end restaurants.

The last time she was living inside was a nine-day stay at New Vista on G Street downtown San Diego, where she also cooked for fellow residents. She has spent similar short stints at other crisis houses. Though she doesn’t drink or do drugs they are the only places that will take her in. “Three beers when I’m singing Karaoke is my limit,” she said.

She moved down to San Diego from Oceanside six years ago after her peaceful camp in a wooded area was victimized by a man who kept stealing from her. At first the assailant demanded a $50 extortion fee to “watch over” her camp when she was gone. She gave him $25. In return the man stole her identification, birth certificate, bicycle, and solar-powered generator. She came back to find him in the act and chased him off with a large knife and a three foot long chain. He later slashed her tent. “I had to chase him off multiple times,” she said. She was sorry to leave her peaceful home because she had acquired a menagerie of backwoods friends. “I ended up with six pet squirrels, a coyote, two rabbits and a skunk,” she said. “I was so sad to leave there.”

Today she walks with a cane. Years ago she had gone to the hospital with a bad UTI and blood poisoning. For three more months she had blood clots so she ended up getting groin surgery. One stitch popped out so she went back for follow up care. The surgeon simply put a bandage on it. One day, when she was in prison, her legs wouldn’t move. They put her on a gurney and took her to a clinic where she shared space with three people suffering from the measles. She never recovered full use of one leg.

Besides cooking, one of her great joys is singing. She rarely goes to karaoke bars any more but will spontaneously entertain friends with a song. She would love to find a place to live indoors, but keeps getting turned down by different agencies. Even though she might accept a bus ticket to somewhere else, she’s not sure where she would go. So for now she takes her time rising from under the blankets, smiling at a new day in the park.