Barbara Chapman: founding Women's Refuge in Henderson

An advertisement was inserted in the local Western Leader inviting anyone interested in organising and establishing a Society for Women’s Refuge regarding homeless families. On enquiring, a date was set for an initial meeting at the convenors home, where six interested ladies responded. Each of us had a marked history of violence over an extended time, hence the 100% interest; only from personal experience and empathy understand the vital understanding and compassion so urgently needed.

A house was rented in old Montreal Avenue, from the council at a peppercorn rental. The empty three bedroom statehouse needed complete refurbishing, and we begged, borrowed and acquired the necessities required for a home to function and were booked to the ceiling and growing. It was heartbreaking being forced to turn desperate mothers and their children away.

Then the utter shock, a bombshell; we had notice to vacate the premises within the month as the building was to be demolished. Utter devastation set in. All Mayors in the surrounding districts were approached with the endless repetition of ‘yes, yes, you’re doing a wonderful job but we’ve no surplus funds to help sorry’. Sad it was when six desperate volunteers sat around the table in our convenors kitchen agonising what the next step was to be. On leaving that day I asked out convenor for permission to write personally to our then M.P. Mr Muldoon, to which she resignedly agreed.

For weeks ‘that letter’ was ruminated on as one friend advised ‘use one page only and make it yellow as it grabs attention and busy men wont turn pages. Also, send it to Vogel House – no stamp needed. That one vital letter was written, scrubbed and written again and again, conscious always of its final destination to our request.  A very long two weeks later, there, in the letter box was a long white envelope stamped ‘Parliament’. Very gingerly that letter was opened and personally and (we saw it had been written personally by Mr Muldoon, informing us that he had great empathy for our aspirations and had forwarded our letter to the minister of health. There was a very hot line to our convenor conveying the joyous news and we were all exultant.

(Later) a letter arrived from Mr Gair the health minister, stating we had full official approval to purchase a house and property to the value of $60,000 our choice plus another $10,000 for any alterations deemed necessary to cater to our needs. So with our tails in the air, off we trotted to go house hunting. Our brief was central, large, and fairly modern with good grounds. I am sure no house in Henderson was ever hunted with so much glee and light hearted happiness. We finally settled on an ideal property in Newington Road that ticked all our wanted and needed boxes. We worked very closely with the small new office of the very recently formed Citizens Advice Bureau, also a previous State house in Great North Road, where several of us had commenced shift work and had seen first hand the urgent need for a base to refer sanctuary for the distressed Mothers. We also liaised with the local police, stationed them on th corner of Edmonton Road and Great North Road. Our convenor (the then Mayors wide) was a sure unsung Heroine as she cajoled, pleaded and begged with lots of the community clubs, Rotary and Lions etc. Tradesmen of all capacities ere appealed to, and one and all rose to the call. We needed two bathrooms, two fridges, beds, two washing machines furniture, linen, kitchen utensils, floor coverings, everything to fully equip a functioning four bedroom house. Plus I even remember taking a hot meal to my husband who was working there at nights. We also had a great telephone system installed, and the residents were able to ring home for contact, but no incoming calls were possible, which vastly helped the mothers to settle better and feel safer.

 Writing this all these years later prompts the memory of some of the saddest cases we dealt with: a distraught husband arriving to en empty home, his wife and children gone, loading his gun into a car and cruising the night streets searching for family. Scary stuff. If the mother feared for her life, the police were contacted, a car was sent only to park in the driveway while big paper rubbish bags were at the ready to gather clothing, family benefit books, money, pills or medicine and don’t forget the kids glasses, if worn – as going back was never a possibility. Then, bundled into the car, a wave to the patient police to thank them and away to safety, care and support.

 Our agenda, to set up and organise the successful running of a transit home, was, looking back after all these years, miraculous. Such wonderful people who contributed to the success! We had no large money grants, just a band of ladies who desired something better for families in such dire need. Just a band of ladies with full hearts, a smile, and a stubborn determination. I am sure the man upstairs also smiled in agreement. Those experiences in humanity, service and humility were life changing, both for the providers and the needy, homeless mothers and children. Life now is so uplifting as I see the services of Women’s Refuge multiply and expand country-wide, to fill the desperate need that plagues our society.

Long may Refuges be newsworthy, supported and ever expanding, as (abuse) like infection is never quite fully stamped out. Sadly, it’s a never ending battle.