The therapeutic value of working together

Ward 9 used to be a rehabilitation unit for chronic schizophrenics and was part of New Zealand’s largest psychiatric facility, Tokanui.

Since its closure in 1998, its buildings remain unoccupied and derelict, a poignant legacy to a once active community. Now devoid of life, it has an eerie ghost like abandonment about it, no longer fit for purpose. Whether or not it’s intrinsic purpose was ever fulfilled, is difficult to determine, but it does beg the question as regards any psychiatric facility, other than removing people from social circulation.

A typical day on Ward 9, would start by readying a group of male patients for a days wood splitting in some farmers paddock, where a fallen tree, would be sawn up for firewood and sold to raise funds for the ward. This had so far enabled the ward to purchase it’s own transport, so that the patients could venture out more.

Usually, there were only two staff members, who operated the chain saws, whilst the patients would chop, split and stack the timber in bundles ready for sale. It never really concerned me, that schizophrenics on reduced medication, part of their rehabilitation strategy, could pose a risk, with log splitters and axes in their hands.

Any possible concern, was offset, by the camaraderie and bonhomie that was generated. We were all on the same team, working out in the open, away from the hospital. Any division between staff and patient quickly dissolved. We all shared a common purpose. The zest with which the patients worked and their increased interaction and animation, demonstrated their ability to shuffle off their institutionalisation.

There was also a conviviality that came to the fore during 'smokos' that the patients clearly relished, with much joking and hilarity. Of my working group, who I was entirely responsible for, at least half were of Maori ancestry. Recognising this, I suggested at the end of each day, we could pick puha [a staple green vegetable popular with Maoris, often used in a hangi, an underground oven], that I had noticed growing by a nearby river bank.

On one occasion, I ended up in mud up to my waist, whereupon the group camaraderie became very much in evidence. Several of the boys were able to eventually haul me out, by extending tree branches to me, while others became stuck in the mud themselves, in their frantic efforts to rescue me. In retrospect, it was a bonding experience, and I was quite moved at the time, by their unstinting efforts, to ensure that I didn’t succumb to the unforeseen quagmire.

That degree of esprit de corps, that I experienced then, transcended socio cultural differences and mental illness and created the satisfaction of seeing rehabilitation actually work. In essence, the intrinsic purpose of Ward 9 was being achieved all those years ago.