Shelter a light in the dark

Cunalee is as close as many abused women come to a happy Christmas, writes Catherine Shanahan.

IT’S called Cuanlee, ‘haven by the Lee’, and, for countless women, it has been just that for a quarter of a century.

On the banks of the River Lee in Cork City and next door to the welcome presence of the Bridewell Garda Station, it opens its doors to women and children in frantic need of breathing space from domestic violence.

One of numerous emergency accommodation shelters throughout the country, these days it’s busier then ever, which, for this particular business, is bad news. Manager Pauline Dunne, in situ since the shelter’s inception 25 years ago, is planning an open day in January, to mark their silver jubilee, to which residents past and present will be invited. The celebrations should have taken place this year, but more practical considerations, such as completing an extension, took precedence. Pauline says the needs of children dictated much of the recent renovation work carried out at Cuanlee: they need to feel at home to lessen the trauma of family breakdown. Therefore, a playroom is the shelter centrepiece, flanked by a toy-spattered spacious playground, and overlooked by a coffee dock, where stressed-out mothers can unwind while keeping a watchful eye on their charges.

At this time of year, the playroom is bedecked with Christmas razzle and dazzle, a sharp contrast to the doom and gloom in the lives of those within the walls of Cuanlee. However, much about the shelter is warm and inviting. Beyond the heavy-duty front door with spy-glass and the security cameras and the dull yellow brick exterior is what Pauline and her staff have tried, very successfully, to make a home from home. Rich red sofas fill the living room, the only no-go area for the children in Cuanlee, where mothers can take time out and chat or read in peace. Bedrooms are apartment-style - fitted with kitchens, and furnished with dining tables, bunk-beds for the kids and a separate bed for mum. The emphasis, Pauline says, is on making the shelter as family-friendly as possible. It also has provisions for the disabled.

“It is built around comfort and security, it provides accommodation in a crisis, most women that come in here ask ‘am I safe, will he be able to get in?’. Strategically, we are lucky, being next door to the Bridewell,” Pauline says.

Cuanlee has six units, enough to take six mothers and up to 15 or 16 children. Its upper age limit for children is 12, but in an emergency, this is not strictly enforced. Rachel, a former resident, is eternally grateful to Cuanlee for helping her out of the hell of a life she was leading. From the outside, it seemed quite normal.

“I was in an average private income family, both of us worked, we had a nice house, a holiday home, a childminder. But I was in a very controlling relationship. As the saying goes ‘You don’t need a bruise to be abused’. I thought being abused was being bounced off the walls.”

There had been some physical violence, but a court safety order seemed to sort that. Rachel and her husband continued to share the same house, but then the mental abuse was stepped up.

“It became so bad that I thought I was going mad. He had me convinced I was going mad. I ended up seeing psychiatrists, on anti-depressants. There was no space for me in the house, I had no bedroom, when I did get a few hours sleep, I slept in my clothes, always ready to run.”

She couldn’t bring friends home, if she did, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. Rachel lived on a knife edge, if her husband dropped a spoon, she jumped, terrified. She saw no way out, had no medical card or social benefits and no clue how a mother and her children could survive if she left her home - until a chance sighting of a poster for Mná Feasa, a Cork-based domestic violence project group. Rachel contacted them, they put her in touch with a domestic violence social worker who in turn told her about Cuanlee. She planned her escape, packed clothes for herself and her children to keep them going, picked them up from school one day and never returned to her husband.

Rachel stayed at Cuanlee for two to three weeks and had her first decent night’s sleep in years. These days, she benefits from rent allowance and other social benefits that give her enough independence to survive as a single parent. Cuanlee gave her the courage and confidence to go it alone.

“We don’t lead the high life, but for the first time in a long time, I am happy, we have a Christmas tree, the kids are with me, we’re doing OK.”

Rachel’s story is familiar to Pauline. Women aged 18 to 70 come to the shelter. Most of the older age group want to stay. Staff there help them towards independent living.

Christmas, Pauline says, can be a strange time at the shelter. Societal norms see it as a family time and some of the women that avail of the shelter now and again try and stay at home for the day. Others book in for Christmas to escape the abuse of an alcoholic partner. For the women who do come, their story is similar to the one at the heart of Christmas - they are seeking refuge and somewhere to stay for the night. For the children in their wake, their concerns can be far more simple but devastatingly heartbreaking as a result.

“How will Santa know where I am?” is the question most of them ask.

* Cuanlee helpline is 021-4277698. All donations gratefully accepted.