The daughters of charity and wrestling with demons

Belgo Geordie undefined

Aah have been quiet as of late. 2020 - some year eh! Oh, ahm writing! Boot in me mid-sixties me past has come back her pay oos a visit. A decent woman in London, Angry Barnet, told oos aboot a report published by the Scottish Inquiry inta Child Abuse in care homes. Aye, it were in Scotland, a hundred miles from where me and both me older brothers were under care in Newcastle Upon Tyne. Boot same religious order in charge - the Daughter (or sisters) of Charity of St Vincent de Paul. The case study on Smyllum Park Orphanage (near Glasgow) were damning. Reading it were like a punch in the guts! Aye, there are folk who said they sailed thru sooch homes with nair a scratch on their paintwork boot for me, me bruthers, it were hell on earth and then soom!

Likewise, the many submissions on the likes of life in Smyllum Park. It made oos recall the ongoing cruelty of life oonder the care of these religious sisters. Their indifference ter the suffering of wee bairns and in soom cases, their enjoyment at teaching oos ter know our place in their world. By daily pooblic shaming, neglect and lectures aboot how we were so full of sin nae booger cared fer oos boot them! And thems were joost doing their duty - boot really, they had better things ter do - sooch as pray, take part in obscure religious practices. Run around like daft chooks afta pompous priests. Tellin' oos we were shite on the bottom of their sturdy shoes were joost part of their vocation. 

Troost in oos wee bairn...

Ah canna make sense of how three years of abuse has left such deep scars in all aspects of me life. Ten years of counselling in me thirties. Ah thought the ghosts were put ter bed and ah had moved on. Ah were not alcoholic, a droogie, nor voted tory. Ah never battered me partners, step children. Ah were not a great dad, boot aah were responsible. Ah cared the best ah could fer the two bairns in me life. One coot me dead after ah left her ma. She were already an adult. Her decision, her choice boot it were grievous. Ah had raised her over seventeen years. Ah deserved better. Her values and mine were close, we both loved books and valued thinking. Boot she tole oos ah were not her da! Tha blood shite has a lot her answer for!

The other daughter is as far from those values. Boot now in her late twenties, she shows me a loyalty ah barely deserve. Ah gave her support through her teenage years, boot it were tough love. Neither me nor her mam were going ter be doormats fer her to wipe her big feet on. She had her own ghosts we knew nowt about. When they came oot, over a year ago, she is soodenly lighter within her own skin. Aye, the damage caused by her carrying a secret for over ten years that were eating her alive. Having her mam hear her pain and not turn away (she did nowt wrong, as always a boy wrecking a young life without thought- made worse by it was incest within her extended family and her cousins and sum of his siblings turned on her). All those years she were in a lonely, dark place trying ter make sense of that an' her changing body and oonderstand who she were, was going ter become or wanted ter be. Not them. Not when the cost of belonging is ter be treated like yer got what yer deserved. Aye, she still gets bouts of depression through loneliness, barely talks her her many cousins, boot now she better oonderstands why and more importantly, reaches out when she has to, ter her mam and blubs, snots and talks. And she knows these feelings, will pass and they do.

Me brutha digging fer fossils-overseen by a paedophile

Then there is my older, surviving brother. This year, ah was the first person he told in detail the sexual and emotional abuse he went through. He told me he didn't thank me for 'making' him remember like. Aye we put it down in writing and made it a submission ter English inquiry. His recall? Like my recall, like the recall of survivors of Smyllum, St Mary's Tudhoe and St Vincent's Mill Hill. Summat that is close ter evil from thems daughters of charity. Soom may not have set oot ter do harm, boot their indifference to our suffering speaks loudly. It told me - there is no God as they defined - all seeing, compassionate - a protector of little children. Utter bollocks! And fer me that has niver changed. In response ter inquiry, the order said it were an aberration. No it were not! They were joost following the instructions of their order. Aye, where have we heard that afore in history? The fascist justification fer cold blooded cruelty. And worse, oos bairns they looked after so well, now oldies. Waal, joost money grubbing, compensation seeking, anti Catholic spongers. Ungrateful serf the immaculate care we received!

Aye, I wondered why "I" threw me life off the tracks, joost aboot descended inter madness in me teenage years, almost killed me self and then continued ter mess oop me relationships with women, me family and work. Ah moost have been thinking aboot how ter lodge that compensation claim with Vatican! And how ter live a rich life on their '20 pieces of tarnished silver' the choorch throws towards oos survivors of their neglect. Which only a tiny percentage of claimants live long enough ter get. Me brothers and me niver asked for nor received owt! Not quite true, we did ask fer summat! Information from Catholic Care. Ter be listened to by them stuffed penguins from choorch, thems tha told me ter me face, when ah asked, ah were nowt boot a liar! 

Back ter me brother. Like the daughter, he is now mooch lighter. He talks aboot stoof long buried. Not all of it bad. Some lighter moments are trickling through. Nae, it is me who has coom crashing down. Yer can tell from the above, there is lightening flashes of anger boot that sits atop of despair an exhaustion. The despair that counselling did not fix. That a fissure still goes down ter me core and when ah reflect on who ah am, who ah have become, ah struggle to like the person ah am. Let alone the child of four to seven who were abused in ways beyond reckoning. How can it not change oos! Ah try ter be kind ter memory and the wee bairn ah was. It's a struggle. Ah still woork, a responsible job. An naw at times, ah can barely lift ma heed in the morning. Ah'm exhausted!

Read the Smyllum report and see if yer think bairns can live through that and not be damaged? What has shaken me is ah do not like who ah was then, the bairn ah were. Shame. Deep pockets of shame. Dark, biting bile, acidic - that are part of who ah am. Soon times ah can run, stay ahead or say ah don't care, boot ah sigh a lot. Anxiety tells oos ah'm nowt. A make believe man. How dare ah hold down a big job, be a good husband an think ah've done a good thing with me life. That is what ah owe the daughters of charity and the Catholic Church. That is what bubbles oop ter confront me through this. And in my last years of life, it is a fight not ter let it define who ah am. An being a fighter has exhausted me. Boot a fighter ah remain.

Ah thought writing would bring it into light. Boot lately ah have been reminded of Primo Levi who asked why he had survived (the holocaust) and at what cost? At whose expense? What did ah do that let me at least live a life. How did ah get ter the point where ah had almost insulated the past? 

If ah thought the experience had made me stronger, ah were wrong. Ah was strong, boot cracks were running through us that could never be fully fixed. Smyllum was summat that pulled the marrow out of me bones and it is taking time ter recover. Ah went swimming in the winter ocean. Let the icy water turn oos blue. Walking on beaches, in the national park. Just walking because that allows me ter think. Ah have a lot ter be grateful for. There are many folk who have had it much worse. Out there are so many survivors and ah pay them a shared debt of gratitude. For speaking oop and out against cruelty ter bairns, women, people of colour, the vulnerable with no voice. This time will pass. Ah will coom back ter meself, mabbe a bit more battered, feeling bruises. Ah tell meself, those ghosts of religious sisters and their cruelty will not and cannot define me. Boot in the silence of a Saturday afternoon in me living room in Sydney, ah hurt and grieve.

An' George Pell is flying back ter Rome today. Funny wurld! Probably her ask yon pope for his job back counting Vatican shekels. Since his release from prison he was living in religious house in Sydney, no doubt being waited on hand and foot by religious sisters. Drinking fine wine and eating oot with his mates at expensive Sydney eateries. Classy! Boot ther man who were too sick and frail in 2016 ter fly in from Rome fer a Royal Commission hearing inta sexual abuse in Australia - had no difficulty getting back on a flight ter Rome this week. Tsk. Foony awld wurld George! No sign of yer walking stick or frailties in yon media images. An' noo, snaps with yon pope! Wot a lad yer are! An, yon pope? Shame on the man!

Ah'm currently reading "The Case of George Pell - Reckoning With Child Sexual Abuse by Clergy" by Melissa Davey. Aye, noted George! The finest brief money can buy, an further examples of how ter use the legal system ter undermine and destroy anyone who dares ter take on choorch. An' in this case a powerful representative of that body. It is the brave man who stood tall in court, were credible and who said his encounter with Pell and his miserable choorch would not define him. Shame on the choorch and its lackeys does not even begin ter describe this encounter. The powerful and mighty trying ter crush an individual fer standing oop ter them. 

Yup, the verdict were set aside after yer did a bit of porridge. Boot the credibility of the witness against yer were not set aside. Legal technicalities got yer oot of clink man! Boot off yer fly, Rome calls bonny lad.

Like I have said previously, the evidence at the Royal Commission says all yer need ter know of Mr Pell's character. "I knew nowt, I supported a paedophile priest in court, boot I knew nowt. All these stories told ter me. Boot, I knew nowt. I were a powerful, on the rise heavy hitter, information were me currency fer clambering oop hierarchy. Boot I knew nowt about all this stoof. Yer have ter understand, it did not interest me. I were involved in getting me way ter top. Being the best conservative ah could be. More important things ter do. Had her fix the choorch back into 16th century. Put the hennies back in their cage! No time for those unfortunate children who alleged they were abused by clergy. Not my area. I were protected at meetings by my underlings etc etc...of course I feel sorry fer them. Damaged by trouble-makers, encouraged ter make oop stoof aboot ma beloved choorch...oh, gotta a job fer an old codger Francis - me awld marra?"

Lastly, what has helped me over this time, besides nature and Australia's motley collection of daft birdies, has been the support of me many friends and family. Me brother has been champion! Annoying boot champion. And Angry Barnet. Second ter none. Blogging like warrior queen. Political ter core and marra. She keeps tilting away at Daughters of Charity, giving light and oxygen ter stories of hurt, abuse and betrayal. Has joost blogged another piece on Daughters of Charity. All power ter yer quill lass! One of the best. Thank you all. And most of all me missus Mrs Belgo Geordie, keeping me focused - loving me fer who ah am. Knowing when ter tell oos ter pull me head in. Yer all what define me. 

Ah yer comin' oot soon pet? A'hm freezings me tits off here

"Are yer al-reet bairn?" "Aye, boot God, get yer act together like"

Go to www.childabuseinquiry.scot

Smyllum Park orphanage findings is under Case Study 1 on Daughters of Charity residential children's homes in Scotland. This led ter religious sisters and others being charged in a court of law.

"The Case of George Pell-Reckoning With Child sexual Abuse by Clergy" Melissa Davey. Journalist with Guradian Australia. Scribe. Published 2020. A forensic examination of the evidence in Pell's trials, and the trials themselves. Yer canna complain George, tha yer didn't get a fair hearing in this book. Yer still coom oot of it as not mooch of a human being.