Commissioners of Abuse in Care Royal Commission reflect on the landmark inquiry.
Rob Rattenbury is a retired police officer who lives in Whanganui. He has written a weekly column for the Chronicle since 2019.
OPINION
Any of you who were unlucky enough to spend time in state care as a child will know all about this. I did.
My time in care in the early ‘60s was short but interesting. However, I have a sister who has lived in care since she was a small child. Still does. I have a brother who spent time in Epuni Boys Home in the 1970s. My family knows state care. Knows the results.
Like probably many others, I didn’t contribute to the inquiry despite being approached.
My experiences were nothing compared to others. I did not want to waste the commission’s time. Better spent on someone severely abused who needs all the help they can get.
The report covers from 1950 to 1999 but refers to the years after as well. In my opinion, we would be naive to think things changed after that.
The report found that of the 655,000 people in state care from 1950 to 2019 it is estimated more than 200,000 were abused, even more neglected. One in three people were abused by the very organisations entrusted with their care and safety. Sexual and physical abuse or neglect by caregivers.
I turned 9 in state care. Away from my family, friends and school. My little safe world. My memories of that time are both good and bad.
The bad bits were not as bad as most, for sure, but it did mark me and make me, for the first time in my very short life, feel absolutely alone and powerless. It made me very sad. It made me quite violent for a while. I came home with more issues than when I left.
What more serious physical abuse, sexual abuse and neglect did to other young minds and bodies is unimaginable. Our hearts should go out to them all.
The good bits were just the novelty of being away from home with other children in a country setting with bush and a horse. Going to a tiny school where children of all ages were in the same class.
The food was pretty average. My memories of broad beans from those days have never left me. Broad beans for lunch and dinner.
I was in a health camp with other boys and girls who were either from pretty rugged, neglected backgrounds or children who had ongoing health issues that just needed fresh air and time out.
However, it was still state care. We were dependent on the staff for our safety and wellbeing.
Discipline consisted of writing lines. I spent a lot of time writing lines. But there was a darker side to discipline for the boys. The boys’ and girls’ dormitories were well apart with the administration block and dining room in between.
Naughty boys, myself included, would be dragged down to the girls’ dormitory and have their pants taken down in front of the girls to be spanked on bare bottoms. Fairly traumatic for the boys, not so much fun for the girls either. It made many cry.
We hated it. We would fight the nurses tooth and nail from the boys’ dorm all the way to the girls’ dorm to get away. They were adults and there were always at least two of them. We were small, under-nourished and ill children.
Yes, some of us were little tykes. I was. But I’d never experienced anything like this. Having my pants taken down in front of anyone was not something I was keen on, let alone girls.
Rob Rattenbury.
The report is simply awful reading and I recommend it as something for us all to read, to learn about.
A child’s life in New Zealand in the late 20th century compared to today was very different.
Violence was an everyday occurrence for many kids, either seeing it or being on the receiving end.
Parents could physically chastise their children. For some children, sadly still like some today, that meant death or serious injury inflicted by people who were supposed to care for them and love them.
For many kids, it was very occasional. We weren’t beaten in my home. A lot of noise, bluster and maybe the very occasional smacked bottom or, for the boys, a clipped ear. But never beaten.
Even then I wondered why my teachers could give me the strap and later the cane, with such gusto but my parents just did not. I just put it down to one of the mysteries of a child’s life.
Sadly we are a violent society. Remember the voices of the victims. They did nothing wrong. They were and are powerless.
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