Woman desperate for 'normal life' after 3 years in temporary housing

Friday, 28 January 2022

Marlanna Harris has been living in emergency or transitional housing for more than three years. The average is about 19 weeks.

Marlanna Harris was only 16 years old when she went to prison for the first time.

She was convicted for using counterfeit notes. They weren’t hers, but she knew better than to open her mouth.

Maybe it was this early introduction to the justice system that set her on a path that saw her moving in and out of prison throughout her 20s and early 30s. Maybe it was the people who surrounded her growing up. Or maybe it was simply a multitude of bad choices.

Either way, at the age of 37 Harris is sure of one thing: She doesn’t want to live that life anymore.

* 'I was struggling so much', says single mum trapped in emergency housing cycle

* Tracey Harris, who lost her baby son in Christchurch earthquake, becomes homeless

Marlanna Harris has been living in emergency and transitional housing for more than three years.

Sitting on a chair in a motel room in Christchurch, Harris voices her frustration at still being stuck in emergency housing more than three years after she was released from prison in March 2018 after serving nine months.

The one-bedroom unit is cramped and basic. A double bed is wedged in the corner of the living room next to a two-seater couch that faces a television mounted on the wall. The “kitchen” consists of a sink, a bar fridge, a microwave, and a small counter area that houses a double-burner stove and a deep-fryer.

In the bedroom, two single beds stand on opposite sides of the room surrounded by boxes stacked almost to the ceiling.

It is no place to raise her 12-year-old son, says Harris. There’s no outside area for him to play or ride a bike, no space to have a few friends over, no room for any privacy.

Harris says the uncertainty that goes along with living in emergency housing makes it difficult to move forward and plan for the future.

But the worst is the uncertainty, she says. Not knowing how long they will be staying at this motel, when they will be moved to another emergency housing unit, or when they will finally be able to move into permanent housing makes it hard to have enough stability to be able to plan for the future.

Harris moved into a motel in November 2018 when she first received an emergency housing special needs grant.

In mid-February 2019, she was moved to a transitional housing property that was managed by a charitable trust, but had to leave in September 2020 when the property owner ended their relationship with the trust.

Regional commissioner in Canterbury for the Ministry of Social Development, Diane McDermott, said because Harris was unable to find a private rental – “people with criminal records can find it especially difficult to secure accommodation' – she was once again provided with an emergency housing grant to ensure she had somewhere to live.

More than a year later, she is still there.

Harris has spent a significantly longer time in emergency housing than most.

According to the most recent data, the average time spent in emergency housing is 19.3 weeks, said McDermott.

By December last year, there were a total of 75,096 properties nationwide managed by Kāinga Ora and community housing providers for use as public housing. Of those, 8809 properties were in Canterbury.

Harris says she wants to leave the life of crime behind and have a “normal” life with a job, family and friends.

At the same time there were 25,525 people on the public housing waitlist, with the vast majority having an A priority rating.

Priority A refers to applicants who are “at risk” and with a “severe and persistent housing need”.

Harris, left, talks to an acquaintance outside the motel room where she and her son have been living for over a year.

Harris has been given a priority rating of A18 - the highest is A20.

Her need for housing is high, acknowledges McDermott. But the housing register is not a time-ranked waitlist.

“How quickly someone is housed depends both on their need and what properties are available that match that need, for example their chosen areas in which to live and the size of the house they need,” McDermott said.

“Ms Harris’ current priority rating… reflects her high need. Unfortunately, safety concerns make it difficult to find suitable alternative accommodation.”

Marlanna Harris is part of the once notorious Harris family who were involved in crime in the late 1980s and 1990s.

Her father, Darryl, and his brothers Paul and Ricki Harris were jailed for the shooting of two Highway 61 gang members in 1991. After their release from prison in the mid-1990s, the Harris brothers became strangers to the courts, seemingly preferring to keep a low profile.

But Harris says you don’t just shake off the notoriety that easily. Crime and drug use had been a way of life for her for a long time, and she believes if she had a different surname, she would have been living in permanent public housing by now.

“From March 2018 until now is the longest I’ve ever been out of jail in one stint. I spent probably seven birthdays and eight Christmases in jail,” she says.

“Jail-life didn’t bother me, it became home. Sometimes I would’ve rather been in jail than on the outside. I know that sounds so f….., but that was just life.”

Harris doesn't blame her upbringing for the times behind bars; she chose to take the path she did.

But she is adamant she now wants to turn her life around and live a “normal” life.

When asked what a “normal” life looks like, she gets emotional. “Just having a job, being a mum, having hobbies and friends, going on holidays during holiday time… just normal.”

But she won’t get there living in emergency housing, she says.

“Living like this is living without foundation and structure. After a length of time it starts to impact on your mental health and wellbeing.”

It hasn’t been easy, but there is no going back. “I want to be a mum. I want to be a sister and a daughter… and just be a better me.”