1742376282 (N) by Tara Winkler

Author:Tara Winkler [Winkler, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2016-03-21T23:00:00+00:00

Knowing the cold hard reality hidden behind some of the kids’ bright happy faces was an ongoing worry for me. They had suffered violence and gross neglect at SKO, and many of the kids had been abused long before they’d fallen into Rath’s hands.

The signs were there, all the time, that terrible things had happened to these kids. A lot of them suffered traumatic nightmares. We sometimes saw inexplicable crying jags, mood swings, angry outbursts and behaviours that seemed obsessive. This was more than just the normal ups and downs of childhood—it was clear to me that we needed to do more to help them.

If the kids felt sad or had problems, the only adult they could really talk to was Savenh, our social worker. She had a lot of field experience and had done some specialised training workshops, but she had no formal training. Social work wasn’t even available to study at any university in Cambodia until 2008. Savenh herself often said she was at a loss as to how best to address these behaviours.

Another issue we had was that the kids tended to come to me, not the staff, with their problems. Sinet, in particular, would only talk to me. They just didn’t trust Savenh and the rest of the staff in the same way. I was painfully aware that I wasn’t qualified to properly help them—I just knew the kids needed to feel safe and secure, and loved. But I didn’t know what to do to make sure they all grew up feeling that way. We needed help, an expert we could call on, something . . .

One unseasonably hot afternoon, I had this reality brought home to me more strongly than ever.

I was working on the cool tiles in my room when an unholy racket, like feuding tigers, blasted in at me from the play area outside.

I stumbled out to find seven-year-old Nimol clutching his forehead, crying bitterly. Sinet, Kanya and Maly cuddled him, trying to calm him down. Meanwhile, someone was emitting primal screams from the back of the building. Savenh, her face grim, was striding across the yard towards the noise. I rushed over to join her, my eyes full of questions. We both pulled up short in shock at what we saw.

Little Makara, the baby of the CCT kids, was holding on to the fence. He lapsed into silence as we approached.

‘Makara!’ I called out reflexively. Makara had a special place in my heart. He was melt-your-heart cute, with a big cheeky smile and a gravelly little voice, a bit like the Cookie Monster. He was very easy to love and he adored me, too. But when he turned his head to look at me, my heart froze. His eyes were completely wrong; they were black pools of hate. He screamed in a voice like a chainsaw: ‘Go away!’

Savenh gently pulled me away. ‘Let him calm down,’ she advised.

We went to check on Nimol and ask the other kids what had happened. The news was troubling.

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