My mother gave birth to an intellectually challenged son. My brother Darryl was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, which cut off oxygen to his brain and caused massive damage. This was in the 1950s so no one really noticed. At least, not until he was five years old. Mum had been struggling as Darryl hadn’t developed mentally at all. She was rightly concerned and took him to her local GP.
The guy clearly had no bedside manner or empathy of any kind because he examined Darryl, then turned to my mother and said, “This kid will never be any use to you.” Good one, Doc. Way to break the news gently.
My brother spent the next 12 years in Tokanui Psychiatric Hospital near Te Awamutu. My parents visited him each month and he never showed any sign of recognising them and nor did he manage to interact in any way.
The experience of having an intellectually disabled child had a profound effect on my parents and they became active participants in IHC – the Intellectually Handicapped Children’s Society, as it was then known. As a family we had high-functioning intellectually disabled people living with us so I became used to Down syndrome and autistic people. So, when a friend asked if I’d volunteer at a Surfers Healing event, I jumped at the chance.
I was already aware of Surfers Healing, having read the book Scratching the Horizon – A Surfing Life by Izzy Paskowitz and Daniel Paisner. American Izzy was a pro surfer and the father of an autistic child. He founded the charity in 1996 after an incident with his son.
Izzy and his family were at the opening ceremony of the World Longboard Championship in Haleʻiwa, Hawaiʻi when his son had a meltdown. Not knowing what to do, Izzy grabbed him and went into the ocean. His son immediately calmed down, so Izzy grabbed a longboard and took him surfing.
This was a lightbulb moment. Could the weightlessness and freedom of riding a wave have a therapeutic effect on autistic children? It might all sound very zen but studies are showing that surfing can ease bouts of sensory overload suffered by people with autism spectrum disorder. Doctors are now prescribing it to relieve the symptoms of children with mental disabilities and the US Navy has undertaken a study to see if surfing could provide benefits to soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
Surfers Healing is a big deal in the US, with thousands of autistic kids attending camps. In New Zealand, it’s a far smaller endeavour. So far, only a handful of events had been organised by a small but dedicated group of young surfers.
I was volunteering at their biggest surfing camp to date, over two days in March. It was being held at Mt Maunganui, and up to 60 mainly autistic and Down syndrome kids were expected, along with their parents.
I was nervous about my role. I was to be part of a team in the water returning the boards to the surfers and making sure no one drowned. No pressure, then.
My friend assured me there would be plenty of people on hand including experienced Surfers Healing members from the US and Australia. There would also be a small cadre of surfers known ominously as “The Hawaiʻians” who, I was told, would sort out any problems that might occur.
I’ve surfed in Hawaiʻi and the fearsome reputation of the locals is well-earned. They are experienced watermen and women who tolerate no misbehaviour in the surf. Steal the wave of a Hawaiʻian and you are likely to find yourself put in a sleeper hold until you pass out and are then floated ashore unconscious on your board. I’m not sure how often this practice has been employed but even the rumour of it ensures good surfing behaviour.
The day dawned bright, sunny and with perfect small waves held up by an offshore breeze. But there were two small flies in the surf wax. The road running beside the beach was closed for a triathlon and the world foil-boarding champs were on.
The road closure wasn’t much of a problem: cones were relocated, illicit car parks gained and hurtling bikers and runners successfully dodged.
The foil boarders were more of an issue. They were out in force, practising for their upcoming event, stealing the waves and being a general nuisance.
At my local surf break, foil-boarders are known as “sushi makers” because of the sharp blades at the bottom of the foils. One uncontrolled wipe-out could cause massive injuries, not a great scenario with unpredictable kids in the water. I mentioned this and was told not to worry as “The Hawaiʻians” would handle it.
When I got to the staging area, I was impressed at how organised everything was. Surfers are not known for their methodical approach to, well, anything. Yet here, a large open-sided tent provided shade. Food, water and sunscreen were plentiful and free. When the parents and kids arrived, they received a friendly greeting and were given a detailed breakdown of how the event would be run.
The vibe of the day was summed up by the first child to turn up – a tiny autistic girl. She came belting over the dunes, flashed everyone the “hang loose” sign and yelled, “It’s surfing time.” Her harassed mother confirmed her daughter had been looking forward to the day for weeks.
The kids were divided into groups of four, put into life jackets, plonked on big stand-up paddleboards then taken out the back of the break by experienced surfers, ready to catch their first tandem waves.
I was positioned in waist-deep water with six to eight other volunteers and waited nervously for the first group to come through.
I needn’t have worried. The eight to 10 young riders – experienced longboarders who had helped out at such events before – were incredible. They cruised down the face of the waves, hauling the kids to their feet by the back of their life jackets, then surfed gracefully past, in complete control of their boards and their charges.
It was a hell of a sight. The kids were smiling and laughing. Whoops of excitement came from both the crowd in the water and the families on the beach.
The highlight of the day was watching a nine-year-old autistic boy who didn’t want to surf. He threw himself on the ground screaming, refusing to go anywhere near the ocean. His parents were beside themselves and about to give up.
The Surfers Healing guys – land crew and the riders – who had experience with kids like this before were having none of it. They grabbed the struggling boy, chucked him on a board and paddled out.
After the first wave, he wasn’t resisting any more. After the second, he was smiling, thumping the board and demanding to continue surfing. The biggest problem became getting him to stop.
At one point, a foil-boarder got in the way. The Hawaiʻians had a word. I didn’t see him again.
It was an amazing day: fun, rewarding and uplifting. Afterwards, I borrowed a longboard and caught some waves, taking care not to drop in on any Hawaiʻians.
