My mum reckons I was always bringing kittens home as a kid. I’d say,
“We have to adopt them,” and she’d insist, “Well, I’m still allergic.”
My dad was a minister in a church, so he had a huge social conscience- you never knew who was going to be on the other end of the phone,
or who would turn up to dinner. It was your job to welcome them, and
I think that made me more open to other people.
Growing up, I had such a variety of friends, and they often didn’t
get on. I had some friends who were petrolheads, and others who
were Marxists. I also volunteered from quite a young age in an adult
literacy program, and as a visitor in a psychiatric hospital. It was
during the era when they locked people up for long periods of time
and sedated them. It was an insight, again, into people who live in
our community, who we might not easily meet – but they’re around
us, and it can be enriching for everyone to make that connection.After university, I got a job as a policy analyst for the government.
That was in theory quite a fancy job, but in practice, I didn’t really enjoy
it. So, I retrained in journalism, and started working as a newspaper
reporter. I was gravitating towards social affairs, and got the chance
to go to Fiji and Vanuatu with Family Planning International. That’s
where I had my first experience of going into someone’s home
in a village, sitting down on the floor of their house, and having
a chat to them about their life. I thought, “Maybe I could do this
for a living.” So I started to look at different aid organisations.I really liked the values of the Red Cross – they’re all about who is in
the greatest need. It’s not religious; you don’t look at people on the
basis of their ethnicity or gender or age. I thought that was really cool.
The New Zealand Red Cross was looking for a communications person
to post overseas, so they put me through various tests and training.
Once I’d done that, I was ready to deploy, and then it was a matter of
waiting for a deployment to come up. I got a bit frustrated waiting,
so I went to Switzerland, knocking on the doors of people I’d been
contacting from the Red Cross, saying, “Hi, I’m still here, still keen.”I had the great fortune of meeting a really lovely Irish guy who was the
head of human resources. I met him around afternoon teatime, and out
of the window of his office, he saw two other Irishmen having a smoke
and said, “Let me introduce you to the head of communications.” These
two guys were like, “We haven’t heard anything from Sierra Leone and
Afghanistan recently – would you be willing to go?” A couple of weeks
later, I was in Sierra Leone on my first mission.I was shit-scared. I was there to gather stories about how post-
conflict programs were helping people. It was about a year after the
end of the civil war – and this was one of those civil wars where people
did the nastiest things human beings can do to each other. They made
children take a machete and slaughter their mums; young soldiers
were on methamphetamines, rampaging around. I’d never seen so
many people with missing limbs. But you get a really warm welcome.
And the cool thing about the Red Cross, is that you’re working with
people on the ground who have the same values as you.
Everybody had horrific tales of things that had happened to them, and
as a comms person, you’re listening for really powerful quotes – for
striking impressions. You’re feeling a lot of empathy. After that mission,
I thought, “I’ve heard so many grim things and I’m never really going
to be able to process them, because it’s too much. I’ll process it whenI’m dead.” Much later on, I realised that wasn’t actually a sustainable
solution, and I learned some other ways of coping with grim situations
that still allowed me to listen and to hear and feel.
I have this little theory called Empathy Plus. In my job, I want your
average Kiwi or Aussie to connect with things that they have no
connection with, and might find very difficult or repellent. If we
see another human in a distressing situation, the same bits of
our brains light up as in that person’s brain. What we most want
to do is help. When we can’t help, then we start thinking, “It’s too
overwhelming; they’re too different; I’m only me, so I’m going to
push that away and concentrate on other stuff.” My theory is that
you can’t leave people there stranded with the empathy – you have
to say, “And here are things you can actually do.”
That’s not always asking for money. It could be something
cognitive, like saying, “These people deserve better,” a statement
you can agree with. That helps keep people engaged, and it’s a
strategy I use in my communications – otherwise it’s just too grim.
Last year I was on a rescue ship in the Mediterranean, and I met
literally thousands of people who would have drowned if they
hadn’t been rescued. On the ship, there was a mum called Sandra
and a baby called Juliette. Sandra was really depressed and didn’t
want to feed Juliette, who was freaking out. I tried to read to her
and cuddle her. It distracted her for a split second, and then she
was screaming again. I remember thinking, “I hope this moment
isn’t going to be a defining one in your life.” After the mission,
I had a really good session with a Red Cross psychologist, who said
that overlaying a grim situation with a wish like mine for Juliette
is a protective factor against post-traumatic stress disorder, so
that’s led me to this theory I’m practising.
Staying positive requires an active internal conversation. You
need to believe that your work is making a difference, and that things
will get better for the people you’re helping. You’d always like to do
more – that’s quite hard to cope with. But you can’t really dwell on
that, because you can only do what you can do. It’s important to look
after yourself. I love dancing and go to classes whenever I can. I try to
eat well, sleep well, listen to music and write in my diary – a positive
coping mechanism that I think everyone needs to do anyway.
We’re not as serious as you might think, though. We’re there
for the right reasons, but when you see all kinds of intense stuff,
you do find yourself making jokes about your toilet experiences. You
might be in the corridor singing and dancing with your colleague –
we celebrate people’s birthdays. Someone gave me a salad spinner
today and I got all excited. You find fun where you can.
It’s been 14 years since my first mission. I think I’m more patient
now, and more aware of everything that people are about. For
example, a colleague recently said to me, “I’m really sorry, but
can I have these dates off, because I really want to see an old aunt
whose husband has just died.” I was like, “Yes, you should see your
old aunt.” That’s what it’s all about – being able to go and see your
family. It’s not about producing a report or sending some photos.
It’s about living your life – and that’s what we want for the people
we serve. We want to take away the crappy stuff, so they can get on
with having a happy family, planting a garden, going to work and
celebrating whatever it is they celebrate.everybody has a story
ROSEMARIE NORTH HAS SPENT 14 YEARS
WORKING FOR THE RED CROSS.
As told to Mia Timpano
pieces of me