25 years ago, I lived in Orange in NSW. It was a small country town, and the house beside me was a designated Indigenous Public Housing house. Living there was a girl, Leila, who was about 10. She'd drop over for a cup of tea and some biscuits, and we'd talk about maths and the world and science and life and all sorts of things.
I moved to another house on the other side of town, and one winter's afternoon found Leila outside, shivering in the sleet, because she hadn't wanted to go home until her mum was there (she had several cousins living there as well, and things could get violent). So I grabbed some food from the shops, hustled her into the warm, sent her to have a hot bath, dragged out some old clothes of mine, then after feeding her, sent her home in a taxi (which I paid for).
I left the town soon after, and always worried about her. Worried that she'd fall through the cracks and end up one of those children or young adults lost to drugs or alcohol or just a miserable life.
Last year, though, I found her on Facebook, and we reconnected. Today, she rang me, and we had a lovely chat.
One thing, though, breaks my heart. Her oldest child is 21, the same age as
da_norvegicus. She was only 14 when he was born. I wish somehow I could have given her more chances in life, helped her along more. I was 24 when I knew her. I did seriously consider talking to her mum and offering to foster her. Would this have helped? Would it have been stealing her away from her culture? Would it have been a failure?
I'll never know.
But the important thing is that today, she is well, healthy, has beautiful children, a supportive partner, and lives down in South Australia. She is computer literate, and happy with her life.
And I know that, thanks to the internet.
I moved to another house on the other side of town, and one winter's afternoon found Leila outside, shivering in the sleet, because she hadn't wanted to go home until her mum was there (she had several cousins living there as well, and things could get violent). So I grabbed some food from the shops, hustled her into the warm, sent her to have a hot bath, dragged out some old clothes of mine, then after feeding her, sent her home in a taxi (which I paid for).
I left the town soon after, and always worried about her. Worried that she'd fall through the cracks and end up one of those children or young adults lost to drugs or alcohol or just a miserable life.
Last year, though, I found her on Facebook, and we reconnected. Today, she rang me, and we had a lovely chat.
One thing, though, breaks my heart. Her oldest child is 21, the same age as
I'll never know.
But the important thing is that today, she is well, healthy, has beautiful children, a supportive partner, and lives down in South Australia. She is computer literate, and happy with her life.
And I know that, thanks to the internet.
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Date: 2013-03-05 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-05 09:57 pm (UTC)And she's well and happy. I think that's a WIN.
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Date: 2013-03-06 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-10 07:36 am (UTC)