walking into a large room, i recognised a handful of people from the old days  but mostly these were new faces, you could tell by their eager enthusiasm. people who have worked in youth work for a long time are jaded and sullen depressive types, they have bags under their eyes and the girls all look hard and men look like they need a career change, no matter who you are the industry of human suffering will defeat you at some point and the thick mask of cynicism replaces any idealistic rational you may have possessed when you started. this is partly due to the incredibly difficult work involved and the lack of support systems, the model was primitive and underfunded and the people that work within it were all expendable. however it takes years to realise this and if your fresh out of university then you're going to have a totally different perspective, you're going to stand out with your unblemished face, clean fingernails, bright eyes, and eagerness, your politically correct sound bytes and your blue sky thinking.
me, i was an anomaly, in my years of working nothing had ever defeated me so when i walked into that room i made an assessment and apologised for my lateness, sat down and joined in the introductions.
the three older ladies who were speaking were from the foundation that ran and administered elma house, they were pouring the tea and offering biscuits while telling us that they had donated the house to the priest who sat in-between them smiling and looking at peace with himself as he gently sipped his earl grey. when he spoke he exposed a very subtle lisp, 'the reason i invited the local stake holders here is to do a little ground work and find out exactly what type of service is required in this area. i need to get ideas from you all and i hope that you would contribute. i'd like to to speak honestly and openly and make suggestions as i have the funds for almost anything the community demands.'
there was silence.
he shuffled some papers, 'speak now or forever hold your peace as they say,' he said.
suddenly the room was filled with discussion and debate, people advocating for whatever they felt passionate about, me i started wondering what i was doing in this room, i began thinking about frisbee on the beach, about being in the surf at dusk as the sun is sinking, my mind wandered and when it returned everyone seemed in agreement that the elma house facility would be turned into a crisis accommodation service for girls and boys, there were eight beds, that's four each. an air of satisfaction filled the room, it had been so easy until i remembered my brief. no one else had asked the question, and in a matter of seconds everyone would be leaving the table, the sex offender unit had not been mentioned once yet the whole of the local services were anxious and angry about it opening near them, many hours of discussions had been spent amongst them plotting against such a move by BOTS to open such a facility and yet when it came down to it no one said a word, except here i was with micro seconds to spare and a large obligation. even though it had just been decided elma house would be an accommodation service i figured i better get him to make some sort of statement about the sex offender program.
'excuse me, i'm here representing a medium term service that had a sister service accommodating young girls on the corner of this street,' the two staff from that service flashed me an embarrassed stare, 'this accommodates very vulnerable young women who are escaping sexual and physical abuse so environmental factors are a priority.' the priest stared at me, 'so what i would like to ask is this facility being considered to house sex offenders of any kind?'
that was it, it was out and everyone in the room was looking at me but it was the priest that gazed into my soul. he hovered there like a strange fucking disembodied spirit stealing light as his face smiled at me and disarmed me by saying, 'not at all, BOTS has another facility for the sex offender treatment program. elma house will be for crisis accommodation in the youth sector.' his gaze broke and he left my soul, still smiling, 'are there any other questions?'
i had done my bit and i returned to the orange frisbee flying through a clear blue sky on the beach, the meeting was over.
while everyone hovered in the kitchen clearing up i did ponder the idea of a sex offenders unit, i mean it was something i had never even thought about before and in my experience something worthwhile as i had worked with some pretty despicable and damaged young souls, many had been abused, i wondered if any were actual abusers, the idea of treatment as opposed to incarceration had an appeal, and it sounded challenging. it was very taboo, and before the accident my work had been progressively getting more challenging and demanding, sex offenders was about as low as you could get.
i wandered into the kitchen and the priest saw me coming, if he was angry he didn't show it, instead he offered me a biscuit from a plate.
from where i stood the priest was a short plump man, dressed in black, he had that johnny cash look about him, except the priest had rosy pudgy cheeks. his white collar looked as if it had been washed in nappy san, it glowed iridescently like a halo that had dropped down to the neck line. he was flanked by a group of women all sipping tea and nibbling daintily on their digestives as they gazed admiringly at the legendary father martin o hare. a modern day saint. o hare had a reputation, i had heard many stories about him, mostly from the media who loved him but i'd also heard some stories from kids i had looked after who didn't seem to like him that much. there was a conflicting narrative but it was always difficult with some of these kids, they often bite the very hand that fed them so i took everything with a pinch of salt, you an never be certain of anything and there's a large danger in assumption in social work. this man had set up an organisation that specifically dealt with the hardest kids, it was based in the city but had programs everywhere over the state, it was hardcore working with child prostitutes, drug addicts, juvenile justice offenders and now sex offenders. the service had a mixed reputation, some people stayed well away from it, the government would not fund it so o hare set himself up as a media profile and raised money through ingraining himself with very successful business people and celebrity. his patron's were the governor general and lady anna murdoch the wife of media mogul rupert, if ever he needed funds one of the newspapers would run a centre page spread on his projects or he would launch an ad campaign with some famous sporty or hollywood type. money was never an issue for this man. i admired him to be honest, i liked the idea he was walking the walk, working with these extreme cases, there was something about that i respected. he was a maverick, did things his way, outside the box. i kinda liked that in people.
anyway there we were face to face, him shoving a plate of digestives at me.
'i'm sorry i had to ask you about the sex offenders program, it was required by the service i work for and personally i don't have a problem with a sex offender treatment program, in fact it's a great idea,'
'who do you work for?'
'a medium term accommodation service, they really seemed opposed to the program.'
'yes well it's controversial.' the women all turned and left us alone, 'i will be opening it up soon, i have the staff and the lady running it has spent two years just researching it in america, this will be the first of its kind in australia, we are very excited.'
'yes well, i just wanted to wish you well with it, sounds worthwhile.'
'what's your name again?'
'mission, captain mission.'
that was it. my first meeting with him.