Helping the kids: relief worker

click image to enlarge

Save Print E-mail

Every time she holds a child with cerebral palsy, Julia Salmon knows she’s found her purpose.

Even as a teenager growing up in England, Julia Salmon pictured herself some day helping children in the Third World. When she became an occupational therapist in her twenties, she realised she could work with those who were even more disadvantaged than most, and dreamed of helping kids with disabilities in Africa. Now in her early forties, Julia has spent the past two years setting up the first international outreach of The Spastic Centre of NSW, and splits her time between her home on Sydney’s northern beaches and the homes of children with cerebral palsy in the developing nations of Fiji and East Timor.

6am: Julia heads out for her daily 14km run along the beach. She’s always inspired by the beauty of the area she has called home for the past 10 years, but today she soaks it all in a little more deeply. This time tomorrow, she’ll be jogging along another beach on another island that is just a few hours’ flying time but another world away from the life she leads in Australia.

7.30am: Julia packs for her five-week trip to East Timor, the fourth she’s taken in the past two years. “It takes me only about 10 minutes to pack – I know exactly what I’m taking, and it’s not much.” Apart from a few T-shirts, pants and walking shoes, Julia takes her running gear, laptop computer and the mandatory mosquito net, insect repellent, malaria drugs and first-aid kit. “Malaria is rampant in Timor and, unfortunately, it causes a lot of the cerebral palsy there,” she says sadly.

8am: Julia joins her husband Russell for breakfast at their favourite café on Sydney’s Dee Why beach before she flies out.

“It’s the last good coffee I’ll have for a while, and it’s a special place for us because it’s Russell’s regular haunt while I’m away. He’s often here when he calls me in Timor.”

The couple has become accustomed to being apart since Julia’s team at The Spastic Centre won an AusAID tender two years ago to help people with cerebral palsy in Fiji.

“We ran a training program to show how physio and occupational therapy could help kids with cerebral palsy become more involved in their own families and communities,” she says. Julia then set up a self-sustaining program to train a handful of Fijian people to pass on their skills to other workers and family members. It wasn’t long before Julia realised that the methods her team had learned in Fiji potentially could be implemented across the Asia Pacific region. So, when an Australian development foundation asked if she’d go to East Timor, she jumped at the chance.

“I thought there was poverty in Fiji, but when I saw what people were going through in Timor I couldn’t believe my eyes,” she recalls. With this, Julia began fundraising to set up another program, called Building Futures, and is now part of a team that looks at prevention, treatment and therapies for people with cerebral palsy in East Timor. “I can’t believe how it’s taken off, despite all the trouble that country has to deal with,” she says.

9am: Julia drops into her office for a meeting with her CEO, Rob White. “Rob has been very supportive, because he’s seen how quickly the knowledge has spread in Fiji. This is a chance to make a real difference without great expense,” says Julia as she jumps in the car with Russell for a lift to Sydney Airport. She’ll spend most of the day flying to Darwin before making the trip to Timor.

5.30pm: (Timor time) As Julia’s plane descends into Dili, she spots the mountains of West Timor and the iconic statue of Jesus that looks across the bay she calls home when she’s here. “From the air, you can’t tell there’s anything wrong. It looks so peaceful,” she says. However, an uneasy feeling creeps back as she steps on to the airport tarmac and is engulfed by the heat.

“I’m acutely aware of the suffering the Timorese people have had to endure,” Julia says. Once inside the terminal, she starts to relax when she spots the familiar face of a fellow expatriate team member. “We’re a motley crew of Australians, Brazilians and Portuguese, but they’re my family when I’m here.”

6pm: As the pair head into the street, the reality that is East Timor hits Julia square in the face. “The streets are full of rubbish, dogs, pigs, chickens and people, and there are crowds of little children who call out, ‘Security, missus?’ or ‘Guide, missus?’, because they want to watch your luggage or show you around for a dollar. It’s very sweet and very sad,” she says. At 172cm and 60kg, Julia is a slender size 10 in Australia, but in Timor she says she feels like a giant. “The Timorese people are so tiny that I’d be known as a ‘malae bot’, which means ‘fat white person’,” she laughs.

6.40pm: Julia’s team-mate drops her off at an $18 a night hotel, which is actually a series of shipping containers converted into makeshift accommodation. “It’s cheap and simple, but it’s secure and it’s all I need,” she says. “I’d feel uncomfortable spending more than these people earn in a month on one night’s accommodation.”

7pm: Julia joins the rest of her expat team at the local ‘Beach Café’, where they will spend the evening catching up. This night and her last will probably be the only two Julia will spend dining out with them. “We’re not here for a party,” she says.

11pm: As she rests in her single bed under her mosquito net, the sounds and smells remind Julia that she’s well and truly back in Dili. “There’s always noise – the dogs bark and there’s a coffin maker across the road who works into the night, which is a bit unnerving, but usually I can go to sleep to the sound of his hammering.”

By 4.30am, the night sounds are replaced by the sounds of roosters crowing all over the city. Julia manages to doze for another hour before she concedes defeat and gets up to go for her waterfront jog to the Jesus statue. “It gets me into the feel of Timor, and all the fishermen say ‘bondia’, which means ‘good morning’ – it reminds me how friendly these people are, because I’m sure they think I’m strange running all over the place.”

7.30am: Back from her jog, Julia has two or three cool showers just to get her body back to normal temperature, eats a paw paw for breakfast and turns on her mobile phone, as she knows there’ll be a message from Russell saying ‘bondia’. “We do miss each other at times, yet we don’t pine for each other because we’re both so busy,” says Julia. “But it is wonderful to know that I have someone to go home to who’s excited about what I do.”

8.30am: Julia heads outside the security of the hotel gates, squeezes into a public minibus packed with locals, then strolls for another 25 minutes to a local disability organisation called Katilosa. It’s a simple concrete building with raw concrete floors, no plumbing and only occasional electricity. Once she has met with her team to plan the day, it’s time to visit the first child with Agustino, one of the Timorese workers Julia is training.

11am: The pair arrive at the tiny, one-room house of nine-year-old Jaoa and his family, unsure of the situation they’ll find inside. “Some children can walk and communicate very well, while others can’t even swallow properly or hold up their head, and many children with severe cerebral palsy are malnourished and weak,” explains Julia. “People live in extreme poverty, but they try hard to care for their children. Sometimes you’ll find a child lying naked on the floor or a bed, unable to communicate, while the parents are working or trying to grow food from their tiny vegetable plots. But, when we arrive, the parents will stop everything, wash the child and dress him, ready for therapy.”

Jaoa is small for his age, unable to speak and has severe spasticity which causes constant, uncontrollable movement throughout his body, but his bright eyes and broad smile show Julia and Agustino how he feels about their visit. As they greet Jaoa, his father hands him to Julia. “My heart really goes out to kids like him. Even healthy children are lucky to survive here, so you can imagine what it’s like for children with disabilities.”

Julia hands Jaoa back to his father so that Agustino can start the therapy session. “Agus is a trained nurse studying public health, and it’s important that the Timorese worker play the key role.” Agustino shows Jaoa’s family how to hold him, how to manage his feeding and how to position him to reduce the impact of his disability over time. “It’s wonderful to see a beautiful young man working so gently and so lovingly with these kids.”

Note: Julia’s last visit to East Timor occurred before violence erupted there in May this year. Julia’s expat team was evacuated, Agustino and the Timorese workers were forced to flee from Dili, and Julia doesn’t know what has become of Jaoa and the families her team has been helping. It will be almost impossible to resume work until the families feel safe enough to return home.

What is cerebral palsy?

• Cerebral palsy is a permanent physical condition that affects movement. People with cerebral palsy may have seizures and other impairments that affect their speech, vision, hearing and intellect.
• In Australia, it is estimated that a child is born with cerebral palsy every 18 hours.
• There is no pre-birth test and no known cure, and severity is on the increase.
• In most cases, the cause of cerebral palsy is unknown.
• Cerebral palsy cases can range from mild (just a weakness in one hand) to severe (almost complete lack of movement).
• Cerebral palsy is not a disease; it is not contagious.
  

The Spastic Centre of NSW has been building futures for adults and children with cerebral palsy for more than 60 years. Its CP Helpline (1300 302 920) is a free service that provides information and support. This year, Cerebral Palsy Awareness Week is being held from August 6 to 13.

For more information, visit www.thespasticcentre.com.au.

Words: Linda Peatling. Photography: Andrew Lehmann. Hair & make-up: David Novak-Piper.