Magistrate Cathy McLennan has taken on a highly-charged and difficult subject in her memoir of her time as a young graduate working as a barrister for the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Legal Service in Townsville and Palm Island. Her debut book Saltwater, published by UQP, won the Unpublished Manuscript Award in the 2014 Queensland Literary Awards. The book is subtitled: An Epic Fight for Justice in the Tropics, and it is, indeed, a story of those who battle generations of entrenched trauma, violence, abuse, alcoholism and crime, to help the innocent individuals who are at the mercy of their circumstances - families unsupported, children raised without good role models, whole communities suffering, a legal system under siege, and a family support system that is under-resourced and struggling to cope.
This is an uncomfortable book. As it should be. It is uncomfortable because the failures of these various systems are exposed and the miserable bandaid solutions are laid bare.
It takes a certain amount of bravery to tell this story, and Cathy has faced her critics in the telling. But while there is much debate about the moral right of some to tell the story of others, I felt that this was Cathy's story, and that she was giving the details of what occurred from her perspective. Yes, she is blunt about the horrific circumstances of some Aboriginal communities, but she was also blatant in her criticism of the lacklustre response of those in authority (white Australians, police, child care workers, the judicial system). I believe that while she denounces the terrible living conditions and senseless crimes committed by these communities, and condemns the often horrific cases of child abuse and neglect that are all too common, she also attempts to shine a light on those individuals in the indigenous communities who are trying to rise above this legacy, those who are fighting to hold together shattered families, those who are trying to break the entrenched cycle of violence and abuse. And I believe that the book really does get across the message of how incredibly difficult this is - how hard it is for Aboriginal people suffering from poverty, low self-esteem and a lack of support to claw their way up from despair. She gives many examples of parents and children who really want to do better, but who are stymied at every turn by red tape and a system that doesn't really offer a solution other than incarceration.
The prologue in the book made me cringe. It is raw, desperate and hard to read. It is the beginning of the narrative threaded through the book, of four boys out 'joyriding' (although there is a distinct lack of joy) with a drunk, much older white man. The book follows the case of these boys (one a child of only 13), as Cathy tries to defend them against a subsequent case of murder. This aspect keeps the tension and pace in the book as we turn the pages, desperate to know what happens to these boys. Are they innocent? Is anyone really innocent? Or, as someone says, 'Everyone knows that some of those kids are innocent ... your dilemma is not whether the kids are innocent, but which of the kids are innocent.' And so it begins. The difficult task of untangling the truth from the lies, the facts from the deception. In this book, even the guilty sometimes have overwhelming reasons for their actions; even the behaviour of the very worst of the worst - the psychopaths - can be explained (although not justified) by their own terrible circumstances.
The book tells the stories of not only these four boys, but many other clients Cathy came across or represented in her time there. Tiny children as young as 11, subject to unbelievable and sickening sexual abuse and physical maltreatment, not to mention the complete absence of any emotional care. Is it any wonder, then, that this child steals? That she continues to reoffend? What possible resources or support does she have as ballast to prevent her from her life turning into a train wreck? Very few, very little, is the answer. Clients with psychiatric problems, with poor health, with disabilities as a result of a lack of medical care; perpetrators of crime who are also victims. Because once you begin to unravel someone's criminal history, and their background, you realise that in many cases, their criminal behaviour is the result of years and years of suffering their own trauma, and that separating the guilty from the innocent is not a simple exercise.
I felt that some aspects of the narrative failed to develop - for example, her romance with a court reporter doesn't resolve in a satisfying way. And while some of the writing appeared a little stilted, overall this is a fast-paced story that manages to keep the reader in suspense until the final pages. I imagine it was very difficult to use authentic language (which she achieves), to tell what is a very sensitive story (both culturally, and in terms of lawyer-client confidentiality), and to also maintain interest in the narrative from the point of view of it being a compelling story.
Cathy's retelling of the light-hearted humour of some of her clients balances the darker passages of the book; the resilience of some of the characters will make your heart break.
This story will resonate with those who have worked in the areas of child protection or indigenous health, or who have struggled in that seemingly black hole of Aboriginal incarceration and justice; they will recognise the uphill battle faced by both members of the indigenous community, and by the people (both black and white) employed to help them.
One of the most telling vignettes was the story of the group drinking in the park while the baby they were supposed to be caring for crawled around in broken glass. Of course she should have been removed - but there was nowhere for her to go. A lack of funding, a lack of cultural understanding and support, meant she would stay in that terrible situation. And in five years' time? or 10? or 15 years' time? She will most probably be in exactly the same position as the adults in that park, because she has had no chance or opportunity to become something better. This is the awful reality, not only for many indigenous people, but for all sections of society that are marginalised and disenfranchised due to poverty, discrimination and cultural starvation. Aboriginal people, in particular in some remote communities, have gone from a proud and self-reliant people to a culture that is misunderstood and unsupported. Their leaders massacred, their children stolen, their land appropriated, their culture and tradition belittled and denigrated ... it is really no surprise that massive personal and community problems result.
This is one person's view; her memoir seen through the prism of her own experience, and as such it should be read and considered. I wholeheartedly praise the rich and proud traditions of indigenous Australians, and their achievements and successes despite the odds. I cannot imagine the difficulties faced by young Aboriginal people of today as they try to save their cultural heritage, face discrimination, and surmount the hurdles with which they are faced just to even be on a level playing field with non-indigenous people. It is not my experience, and so it is difficult for me to comprehend. But I think that as writers, and as readers, we can do the most good by reading widely of the experience of others, and by writing down our perspectives from our own experience, so that others can hopefully gain a deeper understanding of the ingrained pain and trauma, the inherent difficulties, the many obstacles along the way. 'There but for the grace of God ...' - it is a simple act of the luck of the draw as to the family and circumstances into which we are born. We can only respect the battles of others we know nothing about, and do all we can to uplift and support those born into less fortunate circumstances.