The Post

Bedtime stories from behind bars

When Kath reads her children stories, there’s no kiss goodnight. They switch off the CD and Kath lies in her cell, imagining it all. Dani McDonald reports.

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Kath reads her children bedtime stories once every month. She creates worlds of young adventurer­s finding treasure chests, silly kids with dull teachers and bored ratbags flicking bogies across the classroom floor.

But Kath can’t see the excitement light up her children’s eyes as she turns the pages, and there’s no kiss on the forehead once the book closes.

Instead her children take a CD out of its player, and lie down alone.

And Kath lies in her cell, imagining it all.

She’s been in that cell, behind the barbed wire fence surroundin­g Arohata Prison for 10 months – it’s nearly the first year down in a fiveand-a-bit-year prison sentence.

For every month over the last seven, she’s recorded herself reading books – one for her 11-year-old girl, and one for her 6year-old boy as part of the The Bedtime Stories Programme.

She does so to ensure her babies still know her voice.

‘‘It was definitely a concern not being able to parent and have those intimate parent-child moments that you have at home,’’ Kath says, sitting inside what seems like a school room but with prison guards on watch.

Her fine, blonde hair is wrapped up in a bun as she sits down. Her rolled up track pants reveal her socks tucked into her jandals.

She once worked in education, then laboratory work, before finding herself in prison. She’s not allowed to say why, and we’re not allowed to identify her.

Kath is warm, down-to-earth, rational, yet a little nervous.

She’s having a day off from her six-day job where she cooks for the prisoners, ensuring the needs of the gluten-free, the dairy-free, the nut-free and the vegan are all looked after.

On the outside, she’d never be a chef, but she enjoys having something to do to pass the time.

Her eyes sparkle when she speaks of her children. Her eldest, aged 18 and 22, tell her stories of her young ones.

‘‘My 6-year-old lights up,’’ she’s been told.

‘‘When he got the first book he obviously had no idea it was going to be mum on the CD and my older kids said [of] his reaction [that] he was stunned, and he kept making them play it back and back to hear mum and have mum present and there. I guess [it’s] the closest thing to being there in my absence – to hear my voice.’’

The programme is led by Victoria University lecturer Kerryn Palmer, who discovered the project when it trialled four sessions by theatre practition­er Miranda Harcourt in 2014.

An inspired Palmer joined forces with actor/lecturer Perry Piercy, social worker Liz Langham and sound technician­s Ryan Knighton and Tony Black to create the monthly programme at Arohata Prison.

Each month, the women choose a new book and the team coaches them throughout the reading of the story. The women practise their storytelli­ng and reading skills.

Palmer hopes the programme will allow them to read more with their children when they are released.

‘‘I’m a mum and I really liked reading stories to them and that’s always been a really big part of our life.’’

‘‘It just really resonated in the way that I couldn’t imagine not being able to do that. I drive past the prison every day, it was something that was always there and I’d think a lot about what it must have been like to be away from your children – it would be really hard.

‘‘A lot of them say, this is what I really miss, this is something I love doing with my kids.’’

Providing quality, new books is important for Palmer. The project wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the help of Cleanslate Press – who publish the likes of Joy Cowley’s stories.

Boxes of books are spread out over the tables for mothers to choose from when they enter the room.

‘‘It’s really about their kids and finding a book that resonates with their kids. For me its something a little bit positive and I’m not asking them to do something they don’t want to be doing,’’ Palmer says.

‘‘I guess the hope is they continue a connection with the children.’’

At any time, Palmer might have 20 women in the room, wanting to communicat­e their stories with either their children or grandchild­ren.

Reading stories was a routine for Kath and her kids before she went inside.

‘‘My youngest insists on having the stories played to him in the bath, and gets really excited, really excited about it. He does bedtime twice – clever,’’ she says.

She usually sees her kids every six weeks. They travel about two hours to come to see her.

‘‘It’s really nice that along with the phone calls and the letters that you can do something for your kids while you’re away,’’ she says.

A number of women have asked to have books written in te reo. Palmer is mid-way through discussion­s with book publisher Huia, which also publishes books in Samoan.

Palmer would like to expand to the programme to the women imprisoned at Rimutaka.

‘‘It’s just time, I’d also love to sometime come in and maybe do some other drama work in here, ‘‘ she says.

‘‘Thats something I’d always love to do in the future.’’

The Bedtime Stories Programme received the Arts Access Correction­s Community Award 2017 this week.

 ??  ?? Arohata prisoner Kath reads a book for her children as part of the Bedtime Stories programme in Arohata Prison.
Arohata prisoner Kath reads a book for her children as part of the Bedtime Stories programme in Arohata Prison.

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