I reviewed this blog tonight and came across the entries from December 2012 where the state government held a commission of inquiry into the abuse in the school hostels in the 60's and 70's..... I contributed my story to the commission at that time and I was encouraged to make a claim under that scheme. I did so and I was given the maximum compensation...... but the actual process of preparing the claim had a big impact on me and it took months for me to recover from that impact.
Now the National Redress Scheme is operational ..... and it began on 1st July. I prepared a new claim at that date ...... and the process of preparing this claim has had an even greater impact than in 2012. This deeper impact is largely due to the different frame of reference ..... this redress scheme specifically focuses on sexual abuse ..... so I had to dig into memories that I hadn't disturbed ..... and then record those memories for the assessors. I have found the after effect of this to be deeply upsetting emotionally and physically.
I have engaged with medical and counseling help and the effects are being overcome.
For the purpose of a record, I will include the wording of the claim.
___________________________________________________________
1. Physical abuse
I came to St Christopher's as a boy who had
already been abused. I was vulnerable,
hurting, wary, terrified. I needed a caring nurturing environment but instead I was thrust into a world where I
was literally the prey for more
abusers. Only the moments of
sleep were free from the awareness that more pain and humiliation was a breath
away. Mostly this was at the hands of
peers ... but then I discovered that my
supposed protectors .... the adult staff members who were employed to
supervise ... were also another form of torment. This was disguised as
'corrective discipline'! The hunting time was bedtime and "lights
out" time in the dormitory. The
knowledge of what was coming meant that I (along with the other sufferers)
would be in fear. I would attempt to
hide under the bed covers .... hoping that maybe this night I would not be
noticed. At these times my peers would
be entertained by tormenting me ... trying to get a reaction or simply enjoying
being able to inflict pain. I would try
to escape their attentions and the noise
created would usually summon the staff
members from their lair. The
staff member would select the likely noisemakers .... and since I was frequently the reason
for the noise, I would often be selected for discipline.
Discipline was by the cane or a length of
garden hose. Both of these were administered to the buttocks or upper or lower
thighs. The implement chosen depended
on which teacher was 'on duty'. It would usually be applied with clothes on but if it was a bad night we would
have to have the cane on bare skin.
Much of the memory of those times has been
suppressed by my mind. The very act of
writing this account is reviving much of the memory. I am in tears as I write this and I have to stop often.
Who were the staff members? I think there were two or three but I can
barely remember. One I
remember clearly because he was married to a girl who lived next door to my parent's house in
Beverly. Jim XXXX. Six years later I was involved in a church in
Scarbough and I found that Jim XXXX
was also related to friends in that church.
How severe?
This memory is very clear because all the sufferers would compare the welts inflicted when we
returned to the dorm. The test was to
see how deeply you could lay a finger in the welt. The extent and severity was also compared
.... the daily showers were conducted with around 50 boys all naked and the
injuries were extremely public. The
shower sessions were usually supervised by the principal Roy Wenlock .... I
often ponder why he did not enquire about the apparent anomaly that the 'runts
of the pack' were receiving such
punishment. I never suffered broken
skin from the caning but I remember another
boy ... he was diabetic and was particularly targeted .... he sometimes
had broken skin resulting from the caning.
The bruising was bad enough that it was hard to walk the next day at
school. The episodes of discipline were
frequent enough that they weren't unusual ... nights without a session were
something to be remarked on. They
continued the whole time I was staying at St Christopher's. I can clearly remember the dorms that I was
sleeping in for each of the three years.
2. Sexual abuse
I have been asked to add this to the
record. It was not included in my first
draft as I still find this very painful to think about or to talk about.
I began my time at St Christopher's as a
complete pre-pubescent innocent with no knowledge of the 'bird and the bees'
and no idea why I would even have an erection.
I can clearly remember that I was
in my second year at the hostel before I experienced my
first orgasm.
Situation A During year 1, was taken off into a nearby
field by a boy who in hindsight was very sexually experienced. I can remember the other boys discussing the
sexual experiences of their parents which they had observed. The field had some ditches giving seclusion
and there the other boy introduced me to masturbation and fellatio. From that time on I was used as the
'plaything' at night when I would be forced to give oral sex to several of the
other boys. I would be taken from my bed
at night and made to kneel at their bedside and then give them oral sex. I have utterly clear memories of this right
down to the physical shape and characteristics of their cocks. I have no idea of how many times this
happened but I can remember the three different dormitories that I was assigned
to for each of the three years I was there.
In one sense this was not too bad as there was little malice
involved .... just force ... I had no
choice in the action .... I was a useful toy to them I suppose. In today's
attitudes, I guess this was rape.
Situation B A
frequent "game" played on we boys at the 'bottom of the pecking
order' ... was the "flush" and the "royal flush". These episodes happened at random with no
warning. A group of the boys would see
that the situation was OK .... no staff or prefects around .... and they would
grab the nearest victim. The
"flush" was when a boy was immobilised by force and the pushed into a toilet cubicle
and his head was forced into the toilet bowl.
The toilet was then flushed. The
"royal flush" was similar except that a toilet bowl containing
excreta was used ...... so the
experience was particularly traumatic.
If the tormentors were being energetic they would invert the victim and
lower them vertically. This was worse
than the normal kneeling in front of the toilet bowl method. I remember being subjected to both forms of
flush but I could not say how many times.
Of course I resisted these episodes as far as I could ..... and I
remember how the tormentors would be delighted if I did resist as it was then a
great source of entertainment for them.
I remember them calling their mates to come and watch. I was physically much more immature than them
I had no chance at all of fighting against these boys who were much bigger than me .... and hardened by farm work.
Situation C In
the hostel, each boy had a locker in which his clothes were stored. All the lockers were in one room and they
were arranged in aisles and there were many obscured areas. I one particularly bad episode a tormentor
sought me out during the time after showers.
I was naked. He grabbed me by the
balls and then dragged me round the locker room by the balls in front of about
30 or 40 other boys. The pain and
humiliation was extreme.
At all times I had to avoid attention and I
learned to find ways to hide. The
lockers mentioned above were often a place to hide. I could get right inside
the locker and pull the door closed .... if I was very quiet I could escape
notice for a while. In dry weather I
would sneak into the fields which surrounded the hostel. When the fields had high grass, I could make
a refuge in the grass and stay there till I had to emerge for meal times. I had to attend meals as there was a
head-count. Meal times were relatively
safe as only non-obvious attacks could be employed while in the lines or in the
dining hall. In wet weather, I would
sneak into the laundry/boiler room and I could usually find a refuge behind the
boiler or under the mounds of washing. I
remember watching till the tormentors
were attacking some other victim .... and then I could sneak away and
hide when the tormentors weren't watching me.
The only friends I had during these years
were the other boys who were being similarly abused. I sometimes wonder what has happened to
them. During my first year at the
hostel, my older brother was also there .... he was a 17 year old final year
prefect. I think I was a nuisance for
him as he ignored my presence and the tormentors seemed to delight in
this.
When I reflect on the descriptions above, It
all seems rather trite and innocuous ..... but the horrible thing was the
unrelenting, day after day, continual nature of the abuse ... for year after
year. When I went home for holiday
breaks I would be terrified of returning to the hostel ..... but I never told
my parents. I never spoke of these
experiences to anyone .... family, peers,
teachers, authorities. The effect
was so great that I could not speak of
it for thirty years. I think my parents must have suspected something because
they removed me from the hostel in mid-term in 1966 - my third year. That removal to private board was in itself
very traumatic as I still had to attend Northam High school
with the boys I had left behind ... I was seen as a deserter.
I still struggle daily with the memories of
those times and I frequently think of suicide.
There have been several occasions in the years since when I have come
very close to suicide or attempted it ... obviously without success. Other impacts on my daily life have been
deep. I have little self esteem, little
self confidence and it has had a deep
effect on my ability to have any form of friendship or social contact with
other males.
The experience of those time has deeply
scarred me and I have had many years of counselling and therapy as a result.
All counsellors who have worked with me have diagnosed PTSD. If in current times, I hear media accounts of
abuse or bullying, I cannot stop myself identifying and so reliving the distress. Part of my mind is almost constantly thinking
of those experiences from over fifty
years ago. I exist on two levels ... one
part carries on a seemingly successful
business and family life .... while the other part of me struggles with the
memories and their effect. Depression is a constant battle and my plan for
suicide is a constant solace and refuge in my every day life. I know that if things get too bad and I can't
cope, I can put my plan into action and end it all. I have planned a method
and assembled the means for a non violent, non painful suicide when the time comes.
To this day I have frequent nightmares and
my wife is probably very weary of having to wake me to stop the
nightmares. Remembering the nightmares
is bad too .... I cannot erase the
memory of the nightmares ..... and many of
the nightmares were ghastly.
I have no hope of recovery or
'normality'.... I just try to keep going
.... to look after my family
... and I look forward to the ending of
the torment when I die.
Beverly District Hich School 1961 - 1963
ages 10 - 12
During my years in primary school classes at
this school, my father was employed by the local shire council as the Health
Inspector and the Traffc Inspector. In the traffc role he would frequently be
confronting the young men of the town and their younger siblings were students
at the high school. As a means of gaining revenge on my father, these boys
would constantly attack and physically abuse me. My memory of this time is of
unrelenting terror and torment. I remember trying to gain refuge in the classroom
.... but being told that the room had to be locked during recess and lunch
breaks and I could not stay inside. Without the protection of the teacher I was
"fair game" for the abusers and they would come for me in a group and
take me to a secluded part of the school yard to extract their revenge. Their
favourite method was to stand behind me and .... using their projected knuckles
poked into the spot below my ears ..... they would lift me right off the
ground. I mentally separted my self from the pain .... the internal part could
watch what was being done to the external part.
There was no sexual abuse during this time
.... purely physical. But this time laid
the groundwork for the abuse that was to follow at the hostel.
I never spoke of this to my parents .....
nor to any one else till about 35 years later in the mid 1990's when I was in
relationship counselling with my wife. Part of the counselling was because I
could not speak .... I could not tell even my wife of what had been done to me.
The counsellor likened my defence mechanism to me being a small child inside a
tank ..... the child could drive the tank and the "tank" would
function in the outside world .... but the small child remained locked inside and
unable to communicate. The counselling undertaken over the next 25 years has
meant that I can now think about the experiences in my mind .... and talk about
it with diffculty .... and write about it with shaking hands and many tears.
But my childhood dreams of what I could
accomplish as an adult had been ripped away from me. I had dreamed of a career
as a doctor and one time I was essessed by the guidance counselor at high
school ..... he just looked at my testing and dismissed me with the comment
that I was capable of doing anything I wanted to do. I sometimes wonder why
that counselor didn't look deeper to fnd out why I was unable to cope
academically .... I knew ..... but I could not speak. Throughout high school I
struggled academically .... and this continued in adult life when I attended
and failed at uni ... and then attended Teachers College. It had a deep effect on further study that I
completed as a Company Secretary.
(In the previous section it asked if any
person in this institution knew what was happening. The school had a policy of
locking classroom doors during breaks and there was no place of safety that a
child could retreat to .... so no staff were able to know. Probably they would
have protected me if it weren't for the locked door policy.)
