Playgroup re-opened today in Warburton. Eleanor has been on the lookout for Anne (who runs the playgroup) for a while, and regularly comments as we go past "Anne's on holidays, she'll be back soon". Soon arrived at last, and playgroup started up again, linked to the school term timetable.
This post is actually about one 10 second moment in playgroup. A moment that speaks volumes about how people live their lives, and deeply embedded cultural values that pass on to children at a very young age.
As a pre-cursor to that moment in time, it might be worth mentioning that I spent a bit of time today secluded in the little cubby house. Eleanor was happy to have me in there, but fought off any other incursions with statements like "no, it's too crowded in here", or "we're already full" (it was just me and her), or "no stop touching the edge" (to a little baby just learning to stand, and having the temerity to put her fingers on Eleanor's cubby windowsill).
So the conventional wisdom is that children this age are developmentally not very good at sharing. I tried to encourage the sharing gene, with regular entreaties "Eleanor, they can come in, let's share" or pulling her hands away from the baby's fingers as she tried to prise them loose. At one point, I upped the ante by saying that I'd leave the cubby house if she didn't start sharing it. That sort of helped but it felt a little like emotional blackmail! The Aboriginal mums just laughed at Eleanor and remarked on how "bossy" she was. It was all good natured, but I do generally struggle with Eleanor not really playing well beside other kids. Still, it's an age and stage.
Or is it... so to 10 seconds of interest. Just as the morning tea and story was coming to a close, little Damiana - about Eleanor's age - burst into the room with her mum. Flash in her pink outfit and new shoes, she was ready for all that playgroup had to offer and morning tea was a good time to arrive. I'm not sure of the family connection, but little Tiawana (about 3 years), immediately motioned her to come sit next to her. Damiana sat down and looked about for something to eat. Tiawana moved her cup of milo closer to Damiana's knee. She didn't notice, so Tiawana tapped her on the knee and pointed at the milo. Without a word between them at any point since she arrived, Damiana picked it up Tiawana's milo and drank it, then looked around for what else was on offer.
This spontaneous unconscious sharing of your own food is something I have seen a lot over the past few year, but hadn't really thought about it until I saw it in mini replay. Cultural values so deeply ingrained that little kids Eleanor's age reproduce it exactly.
So is 'doesn't share well with others' really a developmental stage, or Western cultural values at work again? Is our propensity to own and hoard something that kids are in fact demonstrating in their 'playing beside' rather than 'playing with' behaviour? Developmental charts then become cultural by-products rather than scientific fact.
When you reach for a new cup to pour someone a fresh cup of tea (rather than sharing your own) are you in fact reinforcing cultural values of separateness and individuality. All part of the great Western way. Based on today's 10 second moment, it seems so.
Showing posts with label Warburton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Warburton. Show all posts
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Long days at work
One of the challenges of the job is the long hours travel.
This week, we unexpectedly had to go to Blackstone from Warburton, twice. In two days. After driving 5 and a half hours return on Thursday, I couldn't face another long drive again on Friday. Thankfully, my boss agreed to us chartering the plane (this being one of the rare times when capitalising on the moment was best).
When we went by car, we could only spend 3 hours with clients and even then got back well after dark. Two thirds of the time spent travelling. By plane, it was only 1 and half hours, with 4 hours client time. The cost difference was enormous, $1150 for the 6 hour charter. $140 diesel for the car trip. It's hard to weigh up the relative benefits. Time in the car is a much better space for preparation, and sharing with colleagues (an indispensable part of the job). On the other hand, it exerts considerable wear and tear on you and car. The flight was quick, efficient and got the job done in a classic 'fly in, fly out' approach. Not the best look, and we have no idea what happened in the community after we left. But we were home for tea, and I guess that counts for something.
Courtesy of my new Flip videocam, we now have some footage of the two trips for your viewing pleasure. No pictures of communities or community members, as it wasn't appropriate. There will be some in the future no doubt. Enjoy the scenery.
This week, we unexpectedly had to go to Blackstone from Warburton, twice. In two days. After driving 5 and a half hours return on Thursday, I couldn't face another long drive again on Friday. Thankfully, my boss agreed to us chartering the plane (this being one of the rare times when capitalising on the moment was best).
When we went by car, we could only spend 3 hours with clients and even then got back well after dark. Two thirds of the time spent travelling. By plane, it was only 1 and half hours, with 4 hours client time. The cost difference was enormous, $1150 for the 6 hour charter. $140 diesel for the car trip. It's hard to weigh up the relative benefits. Time in the car is a much better space for preparation, and sharing with colleagues (an indispensable part of the job). On the other hand, it exerts considerable wear and tear on you and car. The flight was quick, efficient and got the job done in a classic 'fly in, fly out' approach. Not the best look, and we have no idea what happened in the community after we left. But we were home for tea, and I guess that counts for something.
Courtesy of my new Flip videocam, we now have some footage of the two trips for your viewing pleasure. No pictures of communities or community members, as it wasn't appropriate. There will be some in the future no doubt. Enjoy the scenery.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Sunday, lovely Sunday
Weekends in Warburton. Some things haven't changed. There's still takeaway night at the roadhouse on Friday nights (not a favourite of mine) and takeaway pizza on Saturdays (pretty good). Now, however, by the various forces of serendipidity and opportunity, there is Sunday morning cafe at the Shire.
The Shire building is one of those unusual features of Warburton. It's architecturally quite interesting, but sadly showing its weather-beaten cracks and crevices after a decade or so hard yakka in the summer sun. There are interesting sweeps and shadows, paths and taps, all suggesting a past and a vision that is mostly unrealised today.
I hear that the space had its heyday, soon after it was built, when community members worked and painted in the different spaces. The cafe at the end was staffed by community young people learning the tourist business (a laminated poster I found today evidence of what was once on offer). One community member used to welcome tourists and give them a tour of the exhibition and a window into the Mission history.
As with all things remote, key people with the right personality move on. The essential challenges of the place assert - the main one being distance. A vehicle is needed to get there, even though it's only a few kilometres out of town. It feels like a long long 20 minutes walking in the heat and dust and flies. No shoes. Other commitments and interests more pressing.
Today, the cafe comes to life just once a week. The industrial-strength expresso machine cranks up and churns out cappuccinos like it were Lygon St. Apprentice MasterChefs sharpen their knives and practice their arts. Those less inspired or inclined donate to keep the club stocked with essentials. Offerings today included white chocolate cheesecake, banana and blueberry pikelets, date slice, and chocolate cake with lemon icing. Warburton Food Crisis - I don't think so!
It is a shame to see the vision of the building mostly absent now. Like all spaces, however, they flex and transform. While it's only for a few hours, the space is lightly spun with the webs of social contact, fragile but enduring. A space perhaps encouraging more to stay, morphing work into play, and spurring new ideas for a better place and a better way.
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| Edge of the Shire, overlooking meeting room (one of the first photos I took in Warburton, 2006) |
I hear that the space had its heyday, soon after it was built, when community members worked and painted in the different spaces. The cafe at the end was staffed by community young people learning the tourist business (a laminated poster I found today evidence of what was once on offer). One community member used to welcome tourists and give them a tour of the exhibition and a window into the Mission history.
As with all things remote, key people with the right personality move on. The essential challenges of the place assert - the main one being distance. A vehicle is needed to get there, even though it's only a few kilometres out of town. It feels like a long long 20 minutes walking in the heat and dust and flies. No shoes. Other commitments and interests more pressing.
Today, the cafe comes to life just once a week. The industrial-strength expresso machine cranks up and churns out cappuccinos like it were Lygon St. Apprentice MasterChefs sharpen their knives and practice their arts. Those less inspired or inclined donate to keep the club stocked with essentials. Offerings today included white chocolate cheesecake, banana and blueberry pikelets, date slice, and chocolate cake with lemon icing. Warburton Food Crisis - I don't think so!
It is a shame to see the vision of the building mostly absent now. Like all spaces, however, they flex and transform. While it's only for a few hours, the space is lightly spun with the webs of social contact, fragile but enduring. A space perhaps encouraging more to stay, morphing work into play, and spurring new ideas for a better place and a better way.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Small world
I did a Skype presentation today to a group of social work students at Griffith Uni. I think the novelty of having someone so remote means that my name sticks in the minds of lecturers. Hence the invite. I promptly co-opted my colleague (and former social work placement supervisor), Rosalie into it as well. Just for company.
Plus, really, Rosalie is more deserving of this request, being almost an institution out on the Lands. She's been here seven years now, and set up the Department's permanent presence on the Lands. I was musing the other day that she defines for community members what a social worker is and does, based on who she is and how she chooses to act (or not, if the case warrants). She's also been recognised for her work, having won the WA Social Worker of the year last year. She's embarrassed to have it referred to all the time, but I think it's worth the accolade being mentioned every now and again!
As we Skyped away, all going to plan, Rosalie made mention of how the IT infrastructure on the Lands was not available to a former social work student she supervised. My inability to access the internet the past few weeks has also sheeted home to me how different Warburton is now to a few years ago. One memorable week in 2007, I was stuck up in the roadhouse. Mobiles of no use (no reception). A dodgy satellite phone, hideously expensive in any case. No internet access. A battered old Telstra public phone, sitting above a broken old chair at the back of the roadhouse laundry, my only connection to anyone outside Warburton. It was a very isolating week, and I was glad when it was over.
Now, back again in Warburton. My trusty little pink Samsung mobile works. There's a community access wireless internet service available (strongest reception near the shop). ADSL broadband if you can get a laptop and wireless broadband token. I'm still working off a pretty slow laptop that I've borrowed but, importantly, I am now connected. The world suddenly becomes smaller and for that I'm thankful.
Plus, really, Rosalie is more deserving of this request, being almost an institution out on the Lands. She's been here seven years now, and set up the Department's permanent presence on the Lands. I was musing the other day that she defines for community members what a social worker is and does, based on who she is and how she chooses to act (or not, if the case warrants). She's also been recognised for her work, having won the WA Social Worker of the year last year. She's embarrassed to have it referred to all the time, but I think it's worth the accolade being mentioned every now and again!
As we Skyped away, all going to plan, Rosalie made mention of how the IT infrastructure on the Lands was not available to a former social work student she supervised. My inability to access the internet the past few weeks has also sheeted home to me how different Warburton is now to a few years ago. One memorable week in 2007, I was stuck up in the roadhouse. Mobiles of no use (no reception). A dodgy satellite phone, hideously expensive in any case. No internet access. A battered old Telstra public phone, sitting above a broken old chair at the back of the roadhouse laundry, my only connection to anyone outside Warburton. It was a very isolating week, and I was glad when it was over.
Now, back again in Warburton. My trusty little pink Samsung mobile works. There's a community access wireless internet service available (strongest reception near the shop). ADSL broadband if you can get a laptop and wireless broadband token. I'm still working off a pretty slow laptop that I've borrowed but, importantly, I am now connected. The world suddenly becomes smaller and for that I'm thankful.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
All in a day's work
Today was quite a standout. Fred and I came to Warburton yesterday for computer training (sigh) and a specialist appointment (thankfully, nothing wrong, and the best part of that was the specialist agreed to see me, despite being non-Indigenous, thereby saving us an 18 hour round trip). This somewhat banal trip to Warburton, however, turned into an eventful occasion.
About 9.30am, when Eleanor and I were settling into playgroup, the heavens opened and it proceeded to bucket down. We stayed on playing with Eleanor's friend Nadia until the very end of playgroup, rain still coming apiece, and hotfooted it to the store. Went shopping. Rain still coming down with reasonable force. Shoes completely drenched, the rest of me not much better.
As we made our way back to the poor trainees in the courthouse (which was temporarily commissioned as our DCP training room), I noticed that we seemed to have a pretty strong current running in front of the station. Blocking our way back to the roadhouse. No problem, it will recede.
Now, 10 hours later, one submerged airstrip and 23 houses inundated, we find ourselves camping overnight at a friend's house, separated from our possessions by a strong flowing new river (complete with partially submerged and stalled troopie from an injudicious attempt to cross). Eleanor is wearing Nadia's clothes and I'll be decked out in her mother's tomorrow.
Fred is exhausted in bed, after rising to the challenge of negotiating and handing out mattresses, blankets and food vouchers to the 100 or so occupants of the aforementioned houses. DCP is the emergency response agency in WA, so all the team - except me on daycare duty - were holding fort at the store with the all important house list and a crowd of expectant and somewhat bedraggled community members.
All in a day's work (better than training, that's for sure!).
Photos courtesy of Nadia's mum, Toni.
About 9.30am, when Eleanor and I were settling into playgroup, the heavens opened and it proceeded to bucket down. We stayed on playing with Eleanor's friend Nadia until the very end of playgroup, rain still coming apiece, and hotfooted it to the store. Went shopping. Rain still coming down with reasonable force. Shoes completely drenched, the rest of me not much better.
As we made our way back to the poor trainees in the courthouse (which was temporarily commissioned as our DCP training room), I noticed that we seemed to have a pretty strong current running in front of the station. Blocking our way back to the roadhouse. No problem, it will recede.
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| Airstrip: bowsers in centre, waiting area on left |
All in a day's work (better than training, that's for sure!).
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| Water on the wrong side of the levee bank |
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