Defining Child and Youth Care work

Mark Gamble

I don’t know if one can define this thing. I mean, sure there are professional definitions. And important these definitions are, too, but actually to “define”, I’m not sure. And I think this hesitance can be attributed to the humanness of our work.

Try defining love or soul or spirit – or even care. Far easier to define “developmental work” but this, by itself, is not Child and Youth Care work. Or at least I don’t think so.

Here I am, a week or so ago, at a regional meeting of South Africa’s National Association of Child and Youth Care Workers being held at a place called Bonnytoun, a kind of juvenile prison. Here we discover that André, one of our former kids who some two and a half years ago stayed with us at James House, is now incarcerated.

The meeting ends. I spend some time talking with a friend about his programme, then drift across to the youth section to try and find André. In the reception area, to my surprise, I find two other James House Child and Youth Care Workers already engaged in an animated conversation with the youngster – Sis Nomha, a mother of all mothers, and Vukile, who himself has known some of the not-so-pleasant aspects of life. I greet André and stand by listening to the conversation. Every word, every sentiment offered to André is one of connection, of care, of hope. “When you get out, make a turn, I’m sure we can try to find you a job.” And “Do you need anything?” And “Start making different choices, we can find somewhere else for you to stay.”

André, 17, was involved in an armed robbery. Throw him away or try harder, keep the relatedness? As we walk back to the car, Sis Nomha: “Ag, he is a good boy, no family and bad friends, I’m sure he will Vuka (wake up) soon.”

Ah, Child and Youth Care, are you a contemporary science or an ancient art? Methinks the latter. One of the indigenous peoples of my land speak of Ubuntu, and I’ve heard that amongst Native American there is the term “Mitakuye Oyasin”, both referring to the absolute need for connectedness, relatedness, required for well-being.

So Brian and Thom, you asked us to think a little on Child and Youth Care. And I would say that I consider this work to be sacred in the relatedness and the mystery of my humanness with another. And yes, I do absolutely acknowledge the need for the professional conduit in which we work, but never at the expense of not staying fully engaged with our painful and sacred humanity.