Sami grew up in North Africa in a stable home, attended school, served in the army, and worked as a professional diver on major underwater construction projects, drilling and testing the seabed for geotechnical engineering. Life was good. But when political unrest broke out in the late 1980s in his hometown, Sami, like many others, felt that it would be safer to leave. He arrived in Australia in 1988, full of hope, believing the country would bring safety, freedom, and new opportunity.

“I came for the bicentennial party,” he says. “I liked it, and I stayed.”

But years later, it all began to fall apart. A workplace injury, the onset of undiagnosed mental illness, and a system unequipped to support him gradually dismantled the life he had worked so hard to create.

Sami is 66 years old. He lives with schizophrenia, a psychosocial disability that developed years after a workplace injury and long-term depression. His journey into mental health challenges, isolation and homelessness reveals how easily people can fall through the cracks when systems fail to respond early enough, if at all.

After arriving in Australia, he settled in Sydney and worked hard in the aluminium industry, then as a taxi driver, and eventually in aircraft manufacturing.

“That was my top job, I really loved it,” he says.

In 2000, a serious back injury brought his working life to an abrupt halt. The aftermath, fighting for workers’ compensation and cycling through six lawyers, left him mentally and emotionally drained.

“I went to court six times. It was stressful. I got depressed,” he says. That depression, in time, deepened and spiralled.

By 2016, Sami was experiencing severe psychiatric symptoms. “I don’t know what I ate or what happened,” he recalls, “but I got sick. I couldn’t go out. I was seeing things. I was terrified for two years.”

Then, in 2018, he was evicted from his home of seven years without warning.

“The landlord kicked me out, just like that. I had nowhere to go. I had no choice but to sleep in abandoned cars. When I got paid, I would stay in a hotel to clean myself up. But most days I was living and sleeping in the streets, alone.”

Living on the streets, Sami endured far more than cold nights and hunger. He faced regular intimidation, was harassed in public spaces, and often feared for his safety. One night, while staying in a hotel he had paid for, a group of men claiming to be police entered his room and forced him out.

“They kicked me out at 11 pm. I had done nothing wrong,” he recalls. “I paid my rent. I was sick. But they just said, ‘You have to leave.’” With nowhere to turn, he returned to the streets until morning.

He says the incident left him feeling even more isolated, misunderstood, and increasingly unwell. he withdrew further from the world around him.

Sami had no family in Australia, and even after his encounter with the police and the hospital system, he wasn’t aware that support services even existed. “I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t know help was out there. I was just by myself.”

It wasn’t until he relocated to Canberra, seeking a new passport to return home, that he encountered real support.

“When I arrived in Canberra, I slept at the police station for two nights. Then they got me into a hotel, and later to Ainslie Village. Someone told me about Havelock House, and that’s where I lived for some time.”

Havelock House offers transitional accommodation, but the facilities are limited. No kitchen and shared bathrooms.

In February 2024, Sami was referred to EveryMan Australia. He describes the support he’s received as life changing.

“Sue from EveryMan helps me with everything. Going to the doctor, filling out forms, writing letters. Without her, I couldn’t do any of it.”

Yet despite now having a roof over his head, Sami still battles isolation and the long shadow of his illness.

“I don’t go out much. I get scared. I don’t know people. I don’t even remember where to get off the bus sometimes.”

With the help of EveryMan, Sami has been able to access stable accommodation, medical care, and support through the bureaucratic challenges of Centrelink, housing, and health appointments.

Sami's story is a sobering reminder that mental health challenges often begin long before homelessness, and that navigating Australia’s fragmented systems without an advocate can leave people behind.

“Homelessness is very hard,” he says. “When you’ve lived it, even when you’re used to it, it’s tough.”

Even with medication and support, he says he still does not feel well.

“That’s the truth. I’m still not okay. I’m depressed. I have nothing to do. I get bored. It’s hard to feel normal.”

When asked about the future, he pauses.

“Maybe I’ll cook for Sue one day. Maybe spaghetti,” he says with a quiet smile.

For more information, visit: www.everyman.org.au

Written by Stacey Murray