Caledonian MacBrayne and I have been getting to know each other again in the last couple of weeks as I have shuttled between the mainland hospital and the isles. I have been keeping an eye on a couple of volunteer youth workers who have had a series of illnesses over the last couple of years.Some way from the island ferry terminal is a small Hebridean fishing village, by now you should all be thinking 'Two Thousand Acres of Sky" or "The Vital Spark". Not so idyllic I'm afraid. This one is a failed attempt at regeneration which has left homes and families in the middle of nowhere with no sign of the fishing industry which was supposed to develop. Convoluted family relationships and inappropriate alcohol consumption are the generally recognised achievements of the populace.
Until a few years ago this little village was the site of a small youth club. A work not earth-shattering in its scale, not noted for its excess of resources, not the domain of any legendary youth workers. The club was based around a small chapel congregation, total church membership - three. Total volunteers to run the childrens club on Saturday morning - three. Total volunteers to run the youth club on Saturday evening - three.
The childrens club started first with around thirty children, - that's sixty percent of all the children in the village. Over the years they got older and the youth club started, meeting weekly on Saturday evenings. Secondary education happens on the mainland so the island young people leave on a Monday morning and return late Friday night during term times. About fifteen young people aged twelve to sixteen came regularly and spent their time playing games and meeting various island people who came to explain what they did and pass on some of their skills: a local potter, a silversmith, the ambulance driver, the man from the fisherman's mission. Then there was the annual Christmas dinner at a local restaurant which was persuaded to cooperate.
"It was very simple really. We didn't have a lot of equipment. We played simple card games like 'Snap' and talked to them. They enjoyed it. Nobody else played with them or talked to them", said one of volunteers.
The club ran for about six years and finished a couple of years ago. Two of the volunteers became registered as disabled and were not able to carry on the work. And here we ought to come to the end of the story but, instead we get to the point - you see although there is no club, the young people still get taken out to dinner whenever possible. The new boyfriends and girlfriends of club members are dragged round the homes of the volunteers to be introduced and inspected. Christmas cards, birthday cards, letters, phone calls, 'dropping in' type visits, all the hallmarks of abiding friendships.
Why? Because as one of the volunteers says, "You've got to treat the young people with respect. You've got to be persistent and consistent. You've got to be there. That's it."
I'm on the ferry; the sun is setting over the isles; insert a superlative of your choice, it won't come close. I've been to the hospital. One of the three volunteers had a stroke last week. It looks as though he will recover. Three of the ex-youth group have walked from their school up to the hospital, bearing good wishes and an unfeasibly large bunch of bananas.
As a youth worker I'd love to think that the young people I've worked with would want to keep this level of relationship going after clubs have finished. Perhaps age has something to do with it. The youngest of the three volunteers, by nearly a decade, is seventy-two today.
