Implementing the Project

By the Saturday morning after picking Gianne up from the airport, the sun was still out…the children were not! I had forgotten that on a Saturday families like to sleep in, so starting the workshops at 10 am was too early for a weekend day in Mooroobool. Moreover in my haste to book flights and times to come to Cairns with my Brisbane team members, I had not consulted families enough. If I had, I would have found out that most of the Cook Islander residents would be attending a local wedding. As well as that, the Samoan families were 7th Day Adventist and were at church. So here we were my whole team present, with no one to commute. As we stood there stunned for a half an hour, Gianne started to talk to the small group of children playing on the playground. Just by pure intuition the team grabbed tables chairs and sound systems from the community centre, and placed them underneath the covering of the playground. The children mostly of Aboriginal and Islander decent were very shy and timid. When asked if they would like to dance, they said no. Even the children I recognised from the Thursday workshops said no. So Gianne put on the music and my team started to follow her instructions. By the end of two hours we managed to get a small group of children, the more confident ones to dance. Gianne even got them to choreograph bits on their own. It was clear that other children spectators would have loved to join but the “shame factor” was too great. But it was in these 2 hours and the coming hours after that I would finally understand the term, transformation. The transition from untrusting to loving. Was this the I & thou relationships that Martin Buber was talking about? In which we move into existence in a relationship without bounds? (Wood, 1969). When we had lunch the Cairns team members took over facilitating the workshops and more children joined in. Even some of the older “cool kids” joined in. By that night we had residents from the whole community sitting around the basketball courts. We had groups I did not know existed come from outside Mooroobool come to perform, and through a team members’ networking skills Linda had acquired the performance of a Capoeira team from the local PCYC club. But the most surprising and transforming for me was in between performances the children, most of whom were “too shame” to be a part of the workshops, were performing, helping out, DJing and MCing. They were even doing a “battle” (dancers compete with each other in free style manner). My most proudest and inspiring moments was witnessing the cool kids run through more choreography and leading all the other children. By the time we were packed up and ready to leave, the children did not want to stop. I was on a high.

The next morning though I found out I had been robbed. From speaking to residents in the community the thing I wanted to not accept was that one of the boys that helped me put the tables and chairs away had seen my bag and taken my wallet. I was in a bind. The residents knew who had taken my wallet, the boy was not admitting, but I needed to get onto the plane the next day for Brisbane. Without my Drivers licence I wasn’t allowed on the plane. I was caught by the decision to file a police report or not. What drew me more in a bind was finding out afterwards that the boys’ father had used physical measures to find out where my wallet was. This boy of 13 already punished the week before for stealing a car, fished my, along with three other wallets out of his wheely bin. When my wallet was returned to me with my cards minus the money all I could think about is how the boy was beaten. I felt I needed to find closure and drove over to see if the boy was alright. I saw the boy sitting crouched on the driveway with his head down crying. I parked the car walked slowly towards him, sat in the same posture next to him and waited. Time went by and I still said nothing. I asked him a couple of questions. He explained it was another boy who stole my wallet. So I talked to him in narration style asking questions about “the other boy”. The boys mother and aunty came out and I felt a little uncomfortable as I knew there was a very big shame factor already present. They sat opposite us and apologised. I said it was OK. They asked about the next time Gianne was coming over. I nearly died and said “I don’t know, I will have to see if I can recover from this time”. They only just realised then that I was the organiser. I said “Yes it was me, for a uni project. I paid for my and Gianne’s air ticket. I paid for all the food you kids were eating yesterday.” They looked at the boy in anger and said “Look what you’ve done, now she’s not gonna wanna back.” Then they turned to me and said ”please come back, this was an amazing experience, all the parents are talking about it and want to know when the next one is….We’ll promise we’ll lock him up (the boy) when you come!”
I said “No”. Grabbed the boy by the chin and looked him in the eye “If I come back, you will be my main man. You will be my DJ.” Through his tears the faint impression of a smile appeared. Enough had been said as the boy and I hugged and I retreated back to my car. Now I truly can say, I finally understand Martin Buber.