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| Discouraging child abuse or encouraging father abuse? |
August 21 was a horrible evening. Blustery winds and driving rain buffeted the windows and the door.
A knock at the front door that no-one was expecting heralded the arrival of a different kind of storm.
I had three boys spreading toys around my home - my four and a half year old son and the two boys from next door. To help me oversee this chaos was the father from next door as well.
I left them to answer the unexpected knock at the door. I wondered if it might be my neighbour’s wife arrived home early come over to join the party. Or perhaps my partner.
Nothing prepared me for what was there.
There, huddled in the wintry, wet porch were five people. Five people who were quite willing to stir up a storm.
At front was a shortish man with a rather striking white shirt with odd black decorations on it. Beside him, a very tall man (well over six foot) in dark blue shirt and jeans. And alongside, a youngish woman, dressed in a unmemorable way, but normal-enough looking. This core of three was backed by a further two men for whom I have no description whatsoever. I guess I never got to processing who they were, or if I did, it was masked and lost by the events that followed. It was astounding enough, in such intemperate conditions, to come to my door to be confronted by five people. Five people as I was to find out, who were exceedingly keen to talk to me.
Seemed a little like overkill for Mormons. At any rate, salespeople generally call by the telephone at this hour – yes, almost exactly this hour, 5.30pm the buggers. Trying to sell me some new telephone service from the middle of India. No, they didn’t look like salespeople.
However, they started like most of the salespeople do. A shortish man asked asked me to confirm my name. I did so and I asked them their business – as I do when they contact me by phone.
The shortish man stepped forward and said they were from the Child Protection Agency and they wished to come inside. What the ... ?! My guts wrenched sideways. The Child Protection Agency? What did they want? Isn’t that the service that comes and takes children away from families that they deem are unfit to care for the child. My mind screamed. What was this about?
Despite my fears, my nerves, I realized that no accusation was being made. I was merely ‘catastrophising’ as one of my friends would put it. I needed to establish what they were here for. Later I would realize that five people showing up at your front door either from or supporting the Child Support Agency is not ‘catastrophising’ – it is a catastrophe.