Andrew Roberts is working for 3 months in the remote communities of the Katherine West Region, NT. Read about his experiences in this "Postcard from NT"
“Remember to keep your feet clear of the pedals, and don’t touch the joystick. The exits are…well…right next to you.”
It was the first time I’d seen a flight safety demonstration that included such instructions, but then, I’d never flown on such a tiny mail plane before. We were flying from Katherine out to the remote Aboriginal community of Lajamanu, roughly 600km to the south west. All things considered, I was quite glad to have even made the flight. The pilot had apparently not been told that she had a passenger today and had left half an hour earlier than scheduled. A quick call out on the radio and she quite happily turned back to get me. I can’t imagine such service from good old Qantas! It was my first trip out to the remote community during my GP Registrar term, after a week of orientation and cultural education with Katherine West Health Board (KWHB). I was quite excited, if a little nervous. Lajamanu is a community of approximately 1000 mostly aboriginal people close to the NT/WA border in northern Australia.
The clinic is coordinated by KWHB, an Aboriginal Coorporation with whom I am placed for a 3 month GP term as part of an extended skills placement in Aboriginal Health. KWHB manage the health services to communities across a vast area of the Australian outback, roughly two thirds the size of Victoria.
The flight was hot, bumpy, slightly nauseating, and at times mildly terrifying, but the view was just amazing. The rivers and gorges, the hot, red dirt dotted with sparse vegetation, and the sheer remoteness made me realise how lucky I was to be visiting such a unique place. As we flew into the community, I realised how small it all actually was, when I saw that the runway poking out both ends of the town
We landed safely and I was dropped off at the clinic by the pilot. I was welcomed by the clinic coordinator who showed me around and I was surprised at how well-set up the clinic appeared. Four consulting rooms, a large waiting area and a 2 bed treatment room/emergency room seemed to provide everything we would be likely to need. I met the remote area nurses (RANs) that ran the place, and was struck by the dedication they showed living and working in such a remote place.
I happily took a wander around the town with one of the RANs and the clinic dog “Chopper”, so named due to her missing left ear. The temperature dropped nicely as we walked along the ‘main’ road, past the school, the store, the police station and the administration building. Happy kids ran through the streets, all huge smiles and runny noses. A bunch of teens played football in the setting sun. The many camp dogs gave us a wide berth, apparently due to Chopper being so fiercely protective of the clinic staff. I made a mental note to befriend this dog!
As I lay in bed that night, my head replayed the many and varied opinions on aboriginal health that I’d heard all my life. The simple solutions spouted by media, politicians and indeed lay people. “We should just cut off their welfare payments”. “If only someone would build them proper houses”. “Why don’t they just get up and get a job”.
Already, after only one afternoon, it was glaringly obvious just how simplistic such views really were.
