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Accusations of Abuse in Institutions

 

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The Press
September 14, 2002

Nuns on the run
by Yvonne Martin


A woman who says she was tortured by the Sisters of Nazareth at a Christchurch orphanage wants them to pay for her alleged suffering. Defenders of Nazareth House say she is driven by greed, not grief.

A nn Thompson is the latest in the swelling ranks queuing for compensation from the Catholic Church.

Thompson's target is Christchurch's Sisters of Nazareth, whose charity work in the city dates back nearly 100 years.

The 61-year-old grandmother, from Whangarei, last week appeared on prime-time television alleging she had been tortured by sadistic nuns as a girl at Nazareth House in Sydenham in the 1950s.

As well as regular thrashings, the nameless sisters would use her as a human toilet brush, flushing the loo while her head was shoved down the bowl.

Punishments were allegedly meted out, not because she was a bad girl, but because she was born out of wedlock.

"As they'd thrash you, they'd say, `We'll get the Devil out of you'. I was the Devil's child," Thompson said breathlessly.

While nothing could alleviate her painful childhood, the compensation she now seeks from the Catholic Church -- a cool $500,000 plus -- could make life "a little better". "I think I deserve it with what I've been through," she said.

Coming off the back of a global wave of allegations against priests and brothers, the serious claims against the Nazareth sisters barely raised an eyebrow.

Coincidentally, the senior nun at the centre of an escalating storm over child abuse allegations at a Sisters of Nazareth orphanage in Australia was last week discovered to be living in Christchurch as head of the order in New Zealand.

One of five women seeking compensation for alleged abuse at Nazareth House in Brisbane in the '50s and '60s has accused Sister Bernard Mary and another nun of frequent physical assaults. Seventeen other former residents of Brisbane's Nazareth House in a separate action have already received settlements from the order in Brisbane.

As leader of the sisters in New Zealand, Sister Bernard would have been involved in negotiations with alleged victims such as Thompson and others.

While Thompson was detailing her ordeal at Nazareth House, Sister Bernard's attempts to keep a low profile were foiled when an Australian 60 Minutes television crew ambushed her visiting her ill sister in Wellington.

Until that moment, Sister Bernard had refused to front up to the media this week -- her minders citing a bad cold when The Press tried several times to meet her. In a statement, she denies all personal allegations made against her.

Investigations by The Press raise curious anomalies in some of the wilder claims swirling around Nazareth House in Christchurch. Take Ann Thompson for example.

Despite her claims of being traumatised by sadistic nuns, Thompson stayed on at Nazareth House until she was 19. She worked for the Nazareth nuns in a boys' home for several years after that and continued to visit them long after she left their care.

In 1965, her wedding was held at Nazareth House, the very place where she says she was regularly abused. The wedding was paid for by the nuns.

Five months before Thompson began pursuing compensation from the Nazareth sisters, she landed a significant payout from another order of nuns after alleging physical cruelty in their orphanage.

Thompson, who did not return calls to The Press, is adamant the abuse at Nazareth happened, and her lawyer, Stuart Henderson, met last week with the order.

But staunch supporters of Nazareth House, some who shared a dormitory and giggled in Mass with Thompson, are questioning elements of her story.

They say that while their upbringing was strict and orderly, the nuns were benevolent dictators who took in hundreds of kids from broken families and single mums -- and looked after them as best they could.

How can girls from the same era in the same orphanage have hugely contradictory memories of their childhoods? Could both versions be right? Are reported settlements within the Catholic Church, worth tens of thousands of dollars, tempting convent kids to try to cash in on their pasts? How is the Church, buffeted by abuse allegations dating back 40 and 50 years, going to be able to distinguish between a true victim and a Judas after his or her pieces of silver?

The Order of the Sisters of Nazareth, founded in London more than 150 years ago, came to Christchurch in 1905 at the invitation of Bishop John Joseph Grimes to set up a home for needy children and the elderly. The nuns soon outgrew their first home in Ferry Road and bought six hectares in Brougham Street.

At the time Thompson lived there the nuns had about 100 "orphans" from separated or solo parents before the days of the domestic purposes benefit, as well as elderly residents. Now it is a retirement home with 81 residents, still run by the sisters.

Early last week about 50 supporters gathered at Nazareth House in Brougham Street in protest at allegations made against the nuns by Thompson and others.

Thompson alleges she was beaten for any misdemeanour or for no reason at all. Nuns would strip her at night, tie her to a bed and thrash her, she claims.

So frightened was she of abuse, she would wet her bed, which would bring more grief -- the human toilet brush treatment.

But that is not how fellow "Naz" girl, Elizabeth Rose, who shared the same crammed dormitory, remembers it.

"At no time did I see any kind of physical abuse from the nuns," she says. "If she (Thompson) was hit, we would have heard it in the dorm. We were so close together. If you put your arm out, you could have almost touched the next bed. You could hear the kids coughing or sneezing."

She remembers uncontrollable giggling sessions with Thompson in the church pews, when some of the elderly residents broke wind, and getting poked in the back by tut- tutting sisters.

Rose was also born out of wedlock, like many of the other girls, but says it was never an issue. To the contrary, nuns would comfort girls like her, who had no family to visit them on Sundays, with extra love and lollies.

Rose remembers sports events, picnics at Waikuku Beach, and one sporty nun who would kick off her shoes and chase a ball with the girls, her habit flying.

Theresa Campbell, who was also at Nazareth House with Thompson, says her claim that she was stripped and thrashed does not tally with the nuns' extreme modesty.

They were never seen leaving the bathroom, for instance. For years, Campbell saw the nuns as mythical, heavenly creatures, who did not need to use the toilet.

"We had to wear slips like operating gowns while lining up for a bath, and wear them in the bath, because we weren't allowed to look at another person naked," says Campbell.

Fellow supporter Barbara Mills says cleanliness of body and soul was next to Godliness.

"Sister was so modest she couldn't even watch Bing Crosby look lovingly at Ingrid Bergman in The Bells of St Mary's. She would put her hand over her face -- and looking away, come over all peculiar," says Mills.

Three nuns looked after about 100 girls, each doing a morning, afternoon or night shift. While they did resort to the cane and strap to curb rebellious natures, in a highly disciplined era, they were never heavy-handed or malicious, says Mills. "If those stories were true," she says, "we would have known what was going on."

She remembers live singing sessions at 3YA radio station, playing basketball at Hagley Park on Thursdays, and being treated to blackballs and "stick jaw" toffee at Candy Kitchen in Colombo Street on the way home.

Campbell says some senior girls did thrash the younger ones and put them in cold baths for bed wetting, but it was done without the nuns' knowledge. "They said that if we told the nuns what was going on, we'd get a double dose the next day."

The nuns were held in such esteem, Campbell says, that as a bride she called into Nazareth House, with her official party in tow, to show off what she looked like. Mills left her bridal bouquet behind for the nuns. In Thompson's case, the sisters, whom she would later claim abused her, hosted her wedding and reception.

Thompson was initially raised by the Sisters of the Good Shepherd at St Joseph's orphanage in Christchurch, where she was sent as a baby in 1941. She transferred with 36 other girls to Nazareth House in 1951 when St Joseph's was taken over for a boys' home.

She would subsequently pursue a payout from the Good Shepherd Sisters for cruelty she alleges happened under their roof.

Thompson spent nine years at Nazareth House, leaving in March 1960 to a job as a housemaid. She returned to work for the Nazareth Sisters at the St Joseph's boys home in Halswell in 1962 and was still there when she got engaged two years on.

A 1966 note in her Nazareth records said Thompson "visits frequently" and "seems happy". Despite moving to the North Island, Thompson returned to Nazareth House for a 1985 reunion and visited the sisters last December when she was in town.

In 1999 she asked the sisters for a copy of her records.

The first the sisters heard of Thompson's legal action was this year in May, five months after she had landed a significant settlement from the Good Shepherd Sisters for alleged cruelties during her time at the St Joseph's girls home.

Thompson was one of 14 former St Joseph's girls who negotiated a settlement through her Whangarei lawyer, Stuart Henderson. When the time came to share the spoils of the mediation, Thompson received the lion's share.

Both parties agreed the settlement was to be kept confidential, but simmering tensions over how the money was split caused fall-out among the women, prompting some to break ranks.

One woman told The Press that she received about $20,000, while another complainant received more than $50,000.

Thompson has joined four other former Nazareth girls in a group action against the nuns. More women have tried to join them since the action has been publicised, and met with Henderson when he visited last week.

Several of the women in the group action also received payouts from the Good Shepherd Sisters for their time at St Joseph's. However, one disapproving St Joseph's recipient has told The Press the new round of allegations is based on spurious grounds. Spurred by outrage, she rang the Catholic hierarchy offering to testify against the five women, if need be.

"The Nazareth nuns were strict, but they were good to us. You didn't get locked in the boot room or anything like we did at St Joseph's. They were a different sort of nun altogether. This is all about money, money, money."

Wellington psychologist Sue O'Shea, who has studied institutional abuse in her role as an IHC advocate, says it is possible both groups of Nazareth women are telling the truth.

The Nazareth experience could have been horrific for some, while a vast improvement on home life for some less fortunate girls.

"Some kids are more vulnerable and would be subject to a lot more of the punitive stuff than some others," she says.

Associate Professor Jeremy Finn, who lectures in criminal law at the University of Canterbury, says in complex situations such as Nazareth House a percentage of cases will probably be bogus. Others will be part- truth, part-confabulation through years of mulling and grievances.

"There is also very possibly a significant proportion of them which are absolutely true. The problem is knowing which is which," he says.

The Nazareth Sisters are deciding, with legal representatives for both parties, what process they will use to deal with the allegations. Their solicitor, Lee Robinson, is still waiting to hear the full extent of the claims. At issue will be whether and how these complaints can be investigated given the lapse of time.

It is unlikely Sister Bernard will play a role in the negotiations. The first Brisbane allegations against her surfaced about six years ago when she was understood to have been based at the order's headquarters in Hammersmith, London.

Seventeen people have received settlements, reportedly ranging from $46,000 to $86,000 after accusing nuns at Nazareth House in Brisbane of a range of physical and sexual offences in the 1950s and 1960s. No wrongdoing was found among the sisters.

A document filed in a Queensland court last year, a statement of defence against the outstanding abuse allegations in Brisbane, claimed Sister Bernard was dead.

Investigating journalists discovered she was very much alive, a sprightly 69 years old, and leading the New Zealand order in Christchurch.

Sister Bernard has now spoken exclusively in a deal with 60 Minutes, and the Catholic Church has warned all other media to stop invading her privacy "forthwith". And, ironically, despite Thompson's cameo appearance in living rooms throughout the nation, her lawyer is requesting confidentiality for his clients.

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CAPTION:

A Nazareth House dormitory in the early 1950s. An assembly of girls at Nazareth House on the feast day of Christ the King. Confirmation day arrives for girls at Nazareth House.