Living With a Product of the System

Living With a Product of the System

Alison Henderson reflects on a sad encounter with one of lifes unfortunates who, from an early age, never had a chance.

It has to be said that I have become bewildered and confused with the word resettlement. According to the dictionary it defines the word as: relocate population: to provide a group or population with a new place to live and transfer it there.

I recently offered a roof and a home to a friend who has spent 37 years of his life in institutions, from the age of three. A tiny, innocent soldier who marched his way through childrens homes and scrambled through trenches that led to the inevitable walls that protect him from his enemy - the outside world.

On the morning of his release I met him at the fort that had been his comfort blanket and safety net for so many years. He was with another acquaintance I offered a lift to; only his particular destination was a squat somewhere in a hopeless, drug-infested alley. Released without a roof. Resettlement? A twelve letter word probation scribble down repetitively yet obviously fail to understand the full extent of its meaning.

I found myself on a continuous roller-coaster living with someone who had spent 37 years in institutions without any help or guidance from probation, or indeed from any of the other support mechanisms that we so often hear are available.

I spent hours telephoning organisations who, without prejudice, could only offer me a sympathetic ear. Unfortunately, endless cups of tea and weary shoulders to cry on became monotonous and non-constructive to either myself or to my friend.

Probations famous words: He must take responsibility for his own actions was like listening to a broken 7-inch record. I was led to believe actions speak louder than words, so where exactly was it, and where do families come into being this super hero that apparently reduces the risk of their loved ones re-offending?

I was living with a classic product of the system. I was sharing my home with someone who had never had a mother or father. I was under the same roof as a person who had never been to the seaside, a supermarket or received gifts at Christmas. I was sharing my friendship with someone who had no concept of money and paying bills. I was offering my support to a friend who had never experienced the sharp tug of a 9-5 clock card, yet only two weeks after his release his deluded probation officer requests he compiles a CV as part of his homework... 37 years of institutions, and not one single person apart from myself understood that he would obviously struggle; not having a concept of what is required in a CV. He didnt have the knowledge of what terms are used in the jobseekers marketplace either. How on earth could he possibly know how to maximise his chances of employment, given that he could not provide any references of past work history?

At 3 years of age he was separated from his brothers and placed into care. At the age of 9, he was taken into a room and introduced to his mother and father and in the next breath instructed to say goodbye.

At 13 years of age he was sentenced to a secure unit and from then on progressed to being a fully-fledged resident of HMPS. He is now 40 years of age. Other than offering him a paltry ten minutes a week, his probation officer asks of him a task that even the birdman of Alcatraz would find amusing - a CV.

Five weeks into his release and virtually all hope of him grasping the real world were fading. Heartbreakingly, I felt he didnt belong in my world; the simplest pleasures like a walk in the park feeding the ducks was overwhelming. On the sixth week his probation officer put us out of our misery and recalled him back to prison. It was a relief for both of us. For his own sanity he was safer on his home turf.

Prison? A word that once sent shivers down my spine and a word I once defined as hopelessness, and still do. I now view prison as an alternative place to escape lifes pressures. A peaceful place locked away from bailiffs. A building that shields you from red letters and debt. It is a roof that guarantees meals and washes your clothes. It is an establishment where you can relax and watch TV without licence enforcement officers knocking on your door. Prison is a place that offers you freedom away from the everyday stresses of life. It strips you of your responsibilities - then thrusts you back into a society where you cannot survive without them.

An orphaned cub is rejected by its pride. It is caged, cared for and hand-reared by its keeper. It has no concept of its natural ability to hunt. It does not understand its own capabilities, beauty or strength.

To release this big-hearted yet vulnerable creation back into the wild, I regret to say that the chances are; it will not survive.