by Dr Teem Wing-Yip

There are more Lutherans in Central Australia than there are in the Barossa Valley. Many are addicted to alcohol, regularly victims and perpetrators of violence, living in slum-like conditions and suffering from preventable diseases. What can the rest of us do about that?

Many years ago Kumana* was married to a man who abused her. He eventually went to prison for that, and Kumana existed quite happily as a single woman.

Life became more difficult for Kumana after her husband reappeared. Her attendance at church and Bible studies declined, and when I asked others about that, the reason given was always, ‘She’s chasing her man’.

She used to drink alcohol but she stopped on the advice of a doctor several years previously. Her husband, however, was definitely not sober, and when they reunited I became increasingly worried about Kumana’s wellbeing. I was concerned that she might use some of her own money to feed his habit. When you survive on Centrelink payments, spending any amount on alcohol does not leave much for food and other daily necessities. Since Kumana didn’t have a driver’s licence due to her epilepsy, her husband did the driving, and I was concerned that he might drive with her when he was drunk.

One Sunday morning in December 2008, she and her husband had a shouting match outside the church just before worship started.

Six days later, on the Friday morning, her husband was allegedly drinking with another woman. Kumana had an argument with him, became enraged, got into the car and drove away. She accelerated and then crashed into a tree, less than 100 metres from her house. My belief is that, in anger, she wanted to damage the car, and did not intend to harm herself.

She died on impact, or very shortly afterwards.

Her husband was at the cemetery after the funeral. He smelt of alcohol, and he was reportedly with another woman.

Lives prematurely lost

Perhaps in many ways, Kumuna’s life was typical of Aboriginal people in Alice Springs, who struggle with multiple health problems, are welfare-dependent and are affected by alcohol and violence. Her death was also typical, in that it was tragic, premature and almost predictable.

She lived in a very chaotic situation — as do so many Aboriginal people here — in a house with two rooms and about a dozen people, some sober and some not. But she managed to take her medication regularly, unlike so many others. She carried it around with her in her handbag, so that dogs, drunks and kids couldn’t steal it. If only my other patients took their medication as regularly as Kumana did.

Kumana never received much formal education and she was mostly illiterate and innumerate. But she knew many parts of the Lutheran liturgy by heart, in Arrarnta, as well as some hymns. She was very friendly and outgoing, and she was likely to be the first Aboriginal person a non-Aboriginal newcomer at church would meet. She was also very determined in her dedication to the church, walking in the desert heat to get to church every Sunday, as she was unable to drive due to her epilepsy.

Though she never had children of her own, she was a mother figure to many children over the years. She was also an active member of the local council that has responsibility for the town camps. Kumana may have been a little simple-minded but she had great determination to convey her viewpoint and be an advocate for others.

While her death brought much grief, it is just one of the many tragedies that happen here: people are continually grieving over lives prematurely lost. In fact, the mother of some of the children Kumana cared for was murdered the previous year. Now their other mother figure is dead, too. Going to funerals is a part of life here, so, sadly, children become acquainted with grief early.

This is the type of life that many people here cannot escape. They are our friends, the people whom we have been called to serve. What, then, is the role of the church, amid all this: the dysfunction, despair, preventable injury and disease, societal breakdown, ongoing grief, chaos, lack of hope and resilience, disempowerment, social marginalisation … all in epidemic proportions?

We do the usual things: burying the dead, visiting people in hospital, praying for those on dialysis. But we want to do much more.

God’s word of hope

Central Australia has the highest proportion of Lutherans in the country, higher even than the Barossa Valley. The majority of Lutherans in Central Australia are Aboriginal, and on any Sunday up to two-thirds of the Alice Springs congregation may be Aboriginal. But most Aboriginal Lutherans do not speak English as a first or even second language. That’s why, over the last three years, the 9.00 am worship service at the Alice Springs church has been multilingual. The major part of the liturgy is in English, but parts of it are spoken in Arrarnta or Luritja. Almost all the hymns have at least one verse in Arrarnta, Luritja or Pitjantjatjara.

Hearing God’s word proclaimed and being able to worship God in your mother tongue are powerful messages of God’s love, acceptance and dignity to people who are otherwise dispossessed and whose languages are at risk of becoming extinct in coming decades. Moreover, multilingual worship every week is one of the very few opportunities in a very racially segregated town for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people to engage positively with each other.

Aboriginal worshippers assist in serving holy communion, as stewards, and in serving tea and coffee after worship. Kumana had been one of them. Those who now confidently wash the dishes, drive the minibuses that pick up people for church, or distribute Christ’s body to the congregation are empowered with skills that bring dignity. These may seem like trivial jobs, but for some they are significant achievements, and they help to break down the perception that Aboriginal people are reliant on non-Aboriginals. In addition, in this welfare-dependent community, to see your grandmother and auntie serving others is a powerful reminder of the need to serve and not just be served.

The number of Aboriginal people who attend Sunday worship has grown dramatically since we have bought two twelve-seater minibuses. Only a few months ago, we were very grateful to have raised enough money to buy a third bus. Nowadays, 60 to 100 Aboriginal people come to church each week, many of whom don’t come on the buses. I think more people seem to be finding their own way to church because they know that their friends or relatives are also coming to church.

But church is not only a place to meet your friends and relatives. It’s a chance to hear God’s words of hope, in an otherwise hopeless place. It’s a chance to praise God, in a place that can be quite depressing with many people sick or dying, or drunk all the time. It’s a place to learn about caring for your own health and that of your children, in a place where health outcomes are extremely poor.

The church is strategically placed to keep on doing significant things. Month by month, our ministry is growing, which is very exciting. But I dream of so much more the Alice Springs Lutheran Church could do in its ministry with Aboriginal people.

‘I think we can’

Too many people in our congregation — and not only the elderly — are illiterate and innumerate. If you’re unable to find a particular hymn number and unable to follow the words of a hymn, then you’re also unable to budget your limited income in order to buy healthy food, or unable to understand the multitude of written instructions that we need to follow every day. Can our church do something about this? I think we can.

As I’ve already mentioned, alcohol is an immense problem here. We try to advocate for better legal mechanisms to prevent its abuse, but at the same time we recognise that drinking alcohol is a response to boredom. Many Lutherans in Central Australia spend time in pubs during the day simply because there isn’t much else to do if you’re not employed and not employable. Can our church provide activities for people to prevent boredom, while at the same time equipping them with some useful skills? I think we can.

Sexually transmitted infections (syphilis, gonorrhoea, chlamydia) are ten times more common in Central Australia than in any other part of the country. Thankfully, HIV has not hit us yet, but it is a matter of when, not if. Health institutions are trying hard to detect and treat these infections, but they cannot necessarily bring about a change in behaviour, which is the ultimate prevention of these infections. Can our church use its moral authority and take on the responsibility to educate people to change their behaviour and potentially avert the disaster of HIV? I think we can.

The list of problems is endless, but the church has immeasurable potential to effect positive change. The church’s mandate is to proclaim the gospel to the people who are reliant on Centrelink and who don’t have enough food to eat; to proclaim freedom for the people held captive by alcohol and other preventable illnesses; to help people see a way out of chaos, dysfunction and unemployment; to release those who are oppressed by violence and grief; and to proclaim the Lord’s favour to people who are socially marginalised and whose languages are fast becoming extinct (see Luke 4:18,19).

We know that Kumana is safely with her Lord, having escaped from the countless immense problems that surrounded her earthly life. But the problems still remain with us.

We shed tears for Kumana and for the many people like her, and for the seemingly insurmountable frustrations that we witness every day. But amid our many tears, we continue to fight against the dysfunction and to empower the disempowered to do likewise, all in God’s strength.

Dr Teem-Wing Yip lives in Alice Springs where she works as a public health doctor. She is a member of Kwatja-Etatha Lutheran Church and assists Pastor Basil Schild in the congregation’s ministry with Aboriginal people.

* Kumana is a generic Aboriginal name used to replace a person’s original name once he or she has died.

Please pray for us in this challenging yet exciting ministry. Please pray that, as God’s people, we can continue slowly but surely to bring God’s healing, forgiveness and power to a place and a people that desperately need them. If you would like to contribute financially, please make a tax-deductible donation to the Finke River Mission.

If you are holidaying in Central Australia, please come to meet us!