Fighting the Bureaucrats

by Patrick O'Brien

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Copyright 2012 © Patrick O’Brien

On occasion, people ask my help in dealing with government or bureaucracy, often times assisting them with letters to a local authority when they’ve been unfairly treated. In this example, a community house called The Neighbourhood Centre faced closure when budget cuts by a District Health Board saw their funding removed, so they asked me to write something. The human characters in my piece are real, and so is their story:

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—  The Neighbourhood Centre  —

At the bottom of a narrow valley, its slopes covered with little wooden houses, is a small park with a tree in which I’ve built my home. Adjoining the park is a house, no different than any of the others to look at, but one which has a rainbow aura around it.

Kids from the neighbourhood come here to play, and, being winter, they have woolly hats and runny noses. The adults stamp their feet and blow onto their hands, complaining to each other of the cold.

Each day around mid-morning, my friends and I fly across the park to the back gate where the children feed us with scraps and crumbs left over from their morning tea. They’re an enthusiastic lot, bumping into each other and falling over, squabbling about who will throw us which piece of bread. In winter there is little else to eat.

I was surprised when, yesterday, one of the children spoke to me.

“Hello little bird, I’m Shannon. What’s your name?”

“Sparrow,” I replied.

“Where do you live, Sparrow?” asked the child.

“Over there, in that tree.”

I looked more closely at this child and remembered having seen him arrive each day on the back of a bike being pedalled by his father.

“Where do you live, Shannon?” I asked, picking up another crumb.

“Way over those hills there at a place called Tahunanui,” said the child, pointing back up the valley.

“That’s long way to come — surely there must be other play centres which are closer to your home?” I inquired.

“Yes, there are,” he said, “and on frosty mornings I often wish we could stay at home. Even though my dad dresses me warmly in a ski suit, my feet and fingers still hurt. It hurts my father, too; I often hear him moaning quietly to himself when it’s really cold . . . but he insists we come.”

“Why does he do that?” I asked.

The child raised his big brown eyes. A large tear ran down one cheek.

“My mum has gone away and my father is sad and very lonely. He used to yell at me, and hit me sometimes, too, when his pain was really bad.”

The child’s face brightened. “Since coming here, things have been a lot better at home. My dad seems much happier and it’s more easy for me to please him.”

The child smiled. “I don’t mind the cold bike ride too much. There’s always a warm fire going. My dad sits beside it with the other adults and they share their problems. The staff give our parents advice when one of us children are sick, so I’m pleased to bring him here.”

The child paused, then laughed and threw me his last scrap of bread. “See you tomorrow, Sparrow. I’m off to blow some bubbles.”

And, with that, he turned and skipped happily back to the house, dodging other children at their play.

This morning I waited for my little friend to return but he never came. I waited all day. None of the other children came either and there was nothing to eat.

Late this afternoon a large truck pulled up outside and two men began removing furniture from the house and loading it into the truck. I flew down to get a closer look.

“Where are all the children?” I called out, but the men ignored me and carried on working.

“Shame about all these budget cuts,” one of them said.

“Yea,” said the other. “Now the children will have nowhere to play.”

“I wonder what they’ll do with the house,” said the first.

“Pull it down and build a parking lot, I expect,” said the other.

They both laughed.

I flew back to my tree and sat thinking:

What, I wondered, is a budget cut — and why did it mean the children couldn’t play here any more?

Then, as the sun set, the rainbow aura flickered briefly, and went out.

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FOOTNOTE:

I’m happy to report that the District Health Board reversed its original budgetary decision and funding for The Neighbourhood Centre was increased. It remains open, delivering early intervention health care to its local community . . .
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