DEAR YOGESHREE
In my last letter to you which continued with the theme of working 'from the inside out' with children, young persons and ourselves, I quoted Julie's mother who insisted that horses have instincts.It was probable that she wanted Julie to understand that as humans we function not with reaction but with response. Reaction being the instinctive 'animal' way and response being the rational, learned way. If she was trying to tell Julie that as humans we don't have instincts, then she was wrong .
We do. They are right there in the middle of us.... biological, neurological and chemical reactions triggered for example in situations sexual, threatening and when our loved ones are in need of protection.
Then it seems, we and the children we care for, can be put right in the middle. Our instinct telling us to do one thing and our rational , higher thinking and our learned responses telling us something else.
Julie's mother was telling her that she has a choice then to act either way ........ be a horse, or be a human.
Easier said than done.
By the time I got there they were right in the middle of it all. It always happened like that in the group home setting. There would be the telephone call "You'd better get here quick" No explanations, nothing to tell me what to expect. My first inner reaction was to say, "You're the professional child and youth care worker ... you deal with it." But we did have a policy that if someone was at big risk .... then call for back-up. So procedure over-rode my avoidance, flight reaction. I would get into the car to drive out to the house. I had timed it often, Given a ride clear of traffic, I could get there in seven minutes. To overcome my drive to flight , I had to make a very deliberate, planned effort to get into the car. I had seven minutes in which to prepare myself. Breathing helped... no.. breathing was essential Then preparing my thinking to ready myself for the crisis I knew was coming.
Sipho was plastering himself to a door in the narrow passage; fingers outstretched, his hands flat against the door, as was his back. He pushed backwards wide-eyed, his black skin greyish as he paled,
Two child care workers blocked his way of escape down the passage. A lot of loud voices. but Sipho was silent.
At first I couldn't make it all out or really grasp exactly what we were dealing with, but I knew I had been here before.
As youngsters a group of us had tried to capture a small cat, no bigger than a kitten. It had backed itself into a corner stiff with fear as we slowly closed in. I was the one who put out my hands to take hold of it.. even to hold ever so gently, talking it down. Then, the frightened kitten changed. its hair spread stiffly making it a lot bigger than I had thought it was. It lashed out at me with surprising veracity for such a small creature , hissing. squealing and growling. Its mouth opened to show some sharp little teeth and its pink mouth and wide eyes sent a sudden shock of fear into me and I backed off.. This frightened little fellow was really going to hurt me if I got any closer. I remember saying " one of you guys can try this now,"......hmmmm..... typical.
I manoeuvred my way between the two care workers until I was almost shoulder on with Sipho and facing them with him..
"He's got a knife" they shouted.
The knife was the issue from the start. In short quick phrases the two child care workers jig-sawed out the story. The other kids had complained that they were afraid of Sipho because he had brought the knife into the house. So, a 'weapon search' was started, When Mpho, the male worker got to Sipho's cupboard and opened it, Sipho rushed at the cupboard, pulled out the knife and thrust it at Mpho's stomach. To save himself, Mpho put his hands in front of his belly and got stabbed in the hand near the thumb. The he rushed out of the bedroom into the passage only to be blocked by the female worker Sibongile, a middle aged senior worker.
It was to Sibongile that Sipho addressed his comments now.
"It's alright, Sipho, it's alright" I said, but i was not heard.
"Sibongile, " he shouted. "Do you want me to disrespect you?"
"Do you want me to disrespect you?. again.
"Do you want me to disrespect you?" ...Louder now . High pitched and frantic urgent.
" I don't want to disrespect you".
The passage seemed to me to be getting narrower and the light dimer. I remember thinking that was getting quite dark in here.
" Back off. Let him go.". I heard myself. 'Let him go."
"Do you mean it?" ... Mpho, holding his bleeding hand
'Yes. Let him go"
With the slightest move of his shoulders, sideways and with me doing the same, Sipho took the gap and fled into the night.
He was street-wise and knew exactly how to look after himself . In eight days he returned.
I can identify wit that. It was Rosetta, a third year student in my degree class. " I can be where he is." She said. When he was screaming, " Do you want me to disrespect you?" to Sibongile, I can identify with him.
"Explain, Rosetta, help me" I said.
"He was trapped between his instinct and his culture."she said.
'"But it doesn't make sense - he had just stabbed the male worker and he still had the knife.".
"Mpho is a male?"
"Yes"
" and Sibongile a middle-aged female?"
"Yes"
"He didn't want to hurt HER, there's a difference.... it's his culture."
"You see Sipho was trapped between his instinct and his culture" she said.
"He held off his body chemistry for his culture, ... then you cleared the way for his instinct to kick in"
Rosetta was a good student
No comments:
Post a Comment