They Promised Heaven but Led Me to Hell

By Ann Thompson

My childhood abuse in the orphanage, is New Zealand's shameful, dirty secret of physical, mental and sexual abuse of innocent children by nuns, lay staff, the older girls and the priest and bullying at two orphanages in Christchurch New Zealand. From the age of five to ten old I was made to work on their farm and laundry at Mount Magdala – St. Joseph Girls Orphanage then from ten to nineteen years old I worked in the Nazareth house kitchen and laundry.

I was conceived out of wedlock, because of my mother being raped at fifteen years old. I was just two and a half months old when I was snatched from my mother's arms, by the catholic church then placed in the care of one of their Catholic orphanage. From the beginning, I was taught that my mother was sinful and that I would be too unless the devil was beaten from my soul. I was sexually abused in the nursery from a tiny young girl of eighteen months old by three lady workers for four years.

At night times three nuns would ritual attack me by taking my clothes off, tying me to both ends of the bed and savagely attacking me with the buckle of her belt, hula hoop cut in half and a large whip as they tried to suppress my will and to break my spirit.

My story is one story of many worldwide...

Ann Thompson

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543941364

Ann Thompson

Ann Thompson, a native-born European, spent her early years in northeastern France, where she dreamt of a life in the United States. She eventually graduated from UCLA with a Baccalaureate degree in English and went on to serve a six-year stint as an officer in the United States Army in the mid-seventies. Since then, she has had a twenty-year career in engineering technical writing. A writer with an excellent technical writing resume but no publishing credentials, four years ago she finally had the opportunity to do some creative writing, trying to find her writing voice and working on her first novel, Voluntary Force. She has had a diverse background and cultivated varied interests, foremost of which has been a life-long interest in the NASA Space Program. Ann and her husband Ralph, parents of two sons, have made their home on Florida’s Space Coast in Brevard County, site of John F. Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral.

Book preview

I continue to network and support abuse survivors via the Catholica discussion forum and my own sites, also my videos about Childhood Awareness Abuse Via YouTube.

https://www.youtube.com/user/annfreespirit/videos

http://annfreespiritnunsabusedchildren.blogspot.co.nz/

http://annfreespiritjusticeforabusedchildren.blogspot.co.nz/

http://annfreespiritsurvivorofclerysexabuse.blogspot.co.nz/

http://carminewhite.tripod.com/index.html

They Promised Heaven But Led Me to Hell

Years in Two Catholic Orphanages Left Their Hidden Scars.

ISBN: 978-1-5439413-6-4

Author ~ Poet ~ Publisher also Edited by

Ann Thompson

I would like to thank all the people who said no to me Because of them I did it myself.

My Feelings, my Thoughts, Letters of Support and the Truth.

The only thing I am guilty of is telling the TRUTH

~Ann Thompson~

Dedication

I dedicate this book to:

The children who did not survive the abuse from their carers, all survivors/victims worldwide, whether they be in an orphanage, children’s homes, state homes; or family abuse environment;

My mother, even though I never knew her;

Mother Francis of Rome to whom I owe my life to many times, as a child she was there to pick me up whenever I needed her. She was my will to live and my strength to carry on into the next day. Her arms were always open for me to run to and the warmth of her love towards us children remains with me still. I shall never forget her welcoming smile each time we saw her. God Bless you Mother, you are in the arms of the Angels, you told me about many times, You are much loved!

Sister Peter who was so gentle to me and believed in me, she was the first person ever to have faith in me and let me do art work in her classroom while she taught the boys, she gave me poetry books to read as well. She would ask me to do things and never once questioned me nor never doubted me in what I told her.

My husband Brian who has never left my side and to whom I am so grateful, a man who could fix everything he put in his hands, I called him the fix it man; My son Robbie, who passed away in 1993 a gentle giant and a friend;

My three daughters Joanne, Rachel and Bridget beautiful young ladies now;

Ron Hackett; who helped me tirelessly each day, who supported me and many other victim / survivors throughout New Zealand for many years;

Reverend Father Thomas Doyle JcD, cADc. who took a stand in the 1980s against the catholic church to give support to the many men and women who were abused in the catholic church institutions, orphanages and in their family homes worldwide, by catholic priest, nuns and their workers;

To all the Catholic Whistle-Blowers, nuns and priest, a catholic group dedicated in supporting the victims/survivors the world over, within the catholic church. I thank you all for the truth;

My fellow survivor Andy - Rudolf Andreas Bialek from England who supported me and pushed me from afar to rewrite my story;

Copyright © 2017 by Ann Thompson

ISBN: 978-1-5439413-6-4

This book is non-fiction. The story and writings are all true and have been told, as I have remembered them. Names and identifying characteristics of certain persons have been changed in order to protect their identity. But the nuns and priests I will name, because it was the nuns who abused me and I shall never forget their names, they are chiselled into my brain, like the abuse which they did to me. Some of the photographs were given to me and all other attendees by the organisers of a Nazareth House reunion in 1986 other photographs were given to us after the mediation of the Good Shepherd order in 2001 and the Nazareth House order in 2003. Most photographs belong to me, which I have taken myself.

Copyright © Ann Thompson

Book Cover front and back Designed by Ann Thompson

The right of Ann Thompson to be identified as the author of this work in terms of section 96 of the Copyright Act 1994 is hereby asserted. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright owner… @ Ann Thompson 2018

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand. 2018

CONTENT

DEDICATION

INTRODUCTION

PART I

The Early Years Good Shepherd.

Brief History Mount Magdala;

CHAPTER 1… Trigger Warning; St. Joseph Girl’s Orphanage; Picnic; Log Cabin; May Pole; The Magdalene; Magdalene Laundries; A lonely Child; Nursery; Sexual Abuse; Sunday Mass; Meal Time; Play Time;

CHAPTER 2… Grotto; Mother Euphrasia; Wash House; Sunday Adoption; No Body’s Child; Swimming Pool Punishment; Dormitory Night Time; Children Need Love; Sexual Abuse Attic; Darning; Church; Daisy Chains;

CHAPTER 3… Guardian Angel; Driveway; Clothes; Kitchen Back Door; Boot room; Farm Work 5years Old; Play Ground; Christmas; First Holy Communion; Moon Gate; Fairies; School; Music; Swings; Dead Nuns; Last Day; Adoption 1999; Who am I??; Photos Mount Magdala.

PART II

New Orphanage Brief History Nazareth House;

CHAPTER 4… Nazareth House My Doll; My Long Wavy Hair; Church Spiritual Religion; Forced Adoptions; Ice for Food; Force-fed; Infirmary – Mumps; One Night as I Lay Cold in my Bed; Sports;

CHAPTER 5… Stations of the Cross; Good Friday; Bathroom Punishment; Thrashings at Night Time; A Little Child Stands in Line; Wash House Wall; Health Nurse; Sickness and Martyrs; Wavy Hair; Liar;

CHAPTER 6… Church Choir; Missionaries and Retreats; What The Nuns Told Me; Prayers; Varnished Floors; Brasso; Shoes, Blisters and Corns; Chilblains; Marching; Nazareth by the Park; Lisp; Rosary Beads in The Hall; Fear; Blinda the Cow; Little Green Stone Tiki; Vegetable Garden;

CHAPTER 7… Wet Bed and Toilets; Church Time; A Little Girl Cries on the Floor; Saturday Bath Day; Saturday Darning; Saturday Night Clean Clothes; Sunday Parents Day; Chewing Gum; Sugar; Knitting and Embroidery; Church Peaches; Letter to Mary in Heaven; Payment for Each Child; Cellar and Toilets Downstairs; Piano;

CHAPTER 8… Brides of Christ; Nuns Fetes; The Priest; When I Hear These Things; Sunday Afternoon; A Week Before Our Picnic; Yearly Picnic; Swaggers, Trumps and Drunks, Elocution, Music and Dancing Teaches; Dancing the Irish in Me;

CHAPTER 9… Driveway; Saints and Martyrs; Fear for Those in Authority; Confessions; Church; Wash House Cockroaches; School and Self Harm; Dear Jesus; Bed Time; To My Guardian Angel; Sister Blandina;

CHAPTER 10…Sister Theresa Anthony; Wash House Nuns Habits; Old Men’s Long Johns; Suspenders; Mattresses; Sister Blandina; Police; Nun’s Keys and School Bell; Run-Away and Suicide; When the Night Comes; Suicide; Dead Kittens; Mr. White; Midnight Feast; Oliver Twist; Period; Kitchen; Church; Rev. Fr. Peyton; Rosary Prayer Crusade; 1956 Timaru Priest Sex Abuse; Priest; Forgiveness; Photos of Nazareth House;

PART III

Teenage Years in the Kitchen

CHAPTER 11… Full Time Working in the Kitchen; Piano Upstairs; Nuns meals; Sister Simeon; Chickens; Kitchen Garden; Authority; Elvis!!!; Children of Mary; 15 Birthday; What Colour Are Your Eyes Mother?; Mum; Mother; Do Unto Others; Hurt So Bad; Nuns; Suffering the Pain for God; My Friend; A Friend is What I Want to Find; My Embroidery; Timaru Suicide Attempt;

PART IV

St. Joseph Boys Home Photos

CHAPTER 12… St. Joseph Boys Orphanage; Piano My Dream; My Pet Cat; Babies; Nightmares; How I met My Husband Brian; I Love You; Courtship; The Wedding Song; I Give You my Hand in Friendship; Sister Peter; Birth Certificate; Wedding Day 24th April 1965; Photos of Our Wedding;

PART V

My Birth Family

CHAPTER 13… My Mother’s Family 1993; Christchurch 2003; My Mother’s Family; Whangarei; My Son Robbie I; My Son Robbie II; One More Nights Seep; My Son Robbie; My Three Daughters; Joanne; My Daughter Joanne; Rachel; My Daughter Rachel; Narnia; Bridget; My Daughter Bridget; Match Box Cars; Caring For Others; Friday Night Late Shopping; Nightmares Now; Photos of my Knitting, Embroidery and Crochet;

PART VI

Facing my Abusers

CHAPTER 14… Turning Point; St. Joseph Girls Reunion; If Only; 1997Counsellor Colleen;

PART VII

St. Joseph Mediation 2001;

CHAPTER 15… Preparing my Case for Court; Nazareth House Christmas; Father Cahill; Letter From Bishop Cunneen; Fear Within 2003; Nazareth House Mediation 2003; Written Acknowledgement Not Kept; New Years Eve 2003; Our Family Homes Lost to the Nuns; I Wept; Mortgage Over Our Family Homes; Say Sorry Ron Hackett; A Roof Over Our Heads; Catholic Church Discussion Board; This is What I Wrote as if I was Brian; God is my Witness; Finding Sister B. Mary; Raped by a Priest; Oamaru 2002; Finding the Taylor Family;

CHAPTER 16… Timaru 2007; Val’s Affidavit; Success; Bishop Barry’s Apology; Detective Work; Bishop Barry’s Homely on the Sexual Abuse; Half Truths; The Truth Will Set Them Free; You Have Taken my Innocence; Child’s Rights; Church – Path to Healing;

PART VIII

Uncovering What Has Been Covered up;

CHAPTER 17… Why do Victims and Survivors Come Forward; 2007: Catholic Counsellor for the Path Of Healing; Uncovering What Has Been Covered up; Religious Abuse =Soul Rape; Female Paedophiles; Consequences; WHY??; This is What we Want From the Catholic Church;

Appendix A;…

Support for Survivors

Looking towards the Light; A Tribute to Stuart and his Staff; Never Give up; Help and Support for us; ACC Rape Sensitive Abuse Claims; Ken Clearwater ‘Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse Trust’; Rape Crisis Rosanna Shortcliffe; The Miriam Centre Patsy Henderson Watt; Reflection by Ann’s Friend, Heather; HOPE: Help the Children of Today and Domestic Violence and RAPE;

Appendix B;…

Letters Written But Not Sent; Mother Francis of Rome; Mother Euphrasia; Sister Blandina; Sister Theresa Anthony; Sister Simeon; You Did Not See My Pain; Letter to Pope Benedict; Pope Francis;

Appendix C;…

Two Letters Sent to Pope John Paul II; The Result of These Two Emails;

Appendix D;…

Surviving Child Abuse as an Adult; Older People Surviving Child Sexual Abuse; Tell the Truth to the World; What would Jesus do if He were alive today?; The Parable of the Lost Sheep; Dealing With Bishops who Negligent in Protecting Minors & Vulnerable Adults;

Appendix E;…

Support for Survivors; Thomas Doyle, JcD, cADc.; Brian Coyne Editor of Catholica; The Power of One – Cliff Baxter; These are True Stories of People; The Innocents of Today Have Learn From my Story - Ema Keefe; Testimony to the Beauty of Your Human Spirit – Ian Lawther; From a Friend Sr. Angela; Help from a Friend Sr. Angela; Open Letter to the Nazareth House Nuns; A Letter of Hope Rev. Fr. Willie; Acknowledgement From Sue; Another Survivor From Nazareth House NZ; Paper Investigate; A Kindly Hand of Hope Jeannie; Don’t Pardon Sex Abuse by Priests Pope Francis; What Are We To Believe; Walk in Our Shoes; Brian Robert Thompson; My Well-Being and My Health as a Child and Today; A Royal Commission Inquiry into Child Abuse in New Zealand; Faith-Based Institutions Have Been Included in With the State Inquiry.

INTRODUCTION

There was such a bad stigma attached to having been in an orphanage, it was always a Dirty word. It was the next worst thing, to being "Illegitimate. I was both.

A young, unmarried pregnant girl would go away with her mother, to another part of the Country, to have her baby, who was then brought up as a sister or brother, to the birth mother. If the pregnant girl’s parents did not want the girl to keep her baby, the child was put up for adoption, fostered out, or taken to an orphanage. If the young girl was a catholic girl, she was sent to the catholic hospital for unwed mothers in Wellington New Zealand to have her baby, she was sent there many months before she was ready to have the baby and stayed there until the baby was taken away from her, by St Vincent De Paul, who would take the baby to the catholic church orphanage in Christchurch New Zealand, who would put the babies up for adoption without the mother’s consent.

There was no love or care whatsoever in the catholic church orphanages. It was constant humiliation, beatings and being bullied. The bullying was carried out by the nuns and then the older children took that from the nuns, and that was just how it was every day and night. Because the nuns were the top dog, the older girls followed their example. You learned to sit or stand there and shut up because you were an easy target for them.

We had to been seen and not heard. "Spare

the rod and spoil the child" was another thing

that was acted on. As well as, "Children in

your position should be grateful." Was a

statement said over and over again!

I was scared for myself because of the teaching that whatever I did deserved only punishment. I was taught that I was doomed to hell because I was a child of my mother’s sin and the nuns’ punishment was for my sake in the hope of driving out of me my mother’s sin, as well as my own sins and the devil.

The rigid Victorian moral attitudes were the lifestyle then. The social climate of the time was such that the shame associated with ‘Illegitimate,’ was that the baby was called a ‘Bastard,’ and was not tolerated. The baby was the one who was at fault, so from then on, had no rights and was treated like a criminal. The child’s feelings were never considered

Verbal sarcastic attack by the nuns and older girls were an everyday occurrence, resulting in a lifetime of low self-esteem. I was constantly getting beaten by the nuns and if they couldn’t do it they got the older girls to beat us up. It’s very important to us to let people know exactly what had being going on behind the red brick walls and people didn’t believe it. They don’t believe nuns could do these things still. The sexual abuse as a child seemed normal at the time, it happened every day and I couldn’t stop it.

It was the same the world over and we could not stop the nuns from doing what they did to us. Only a few of the girls were given an education and I have struggled to put my thoughts on paper, because just about every second word would be spelt wrong, the nuns even took away the means for me to express myself and even to be able to tell my story and true feelings about what they did to me. My identity was taken away, we were given different names, if any names were the same as another child already in the orphanage. My name was changed and I was given the number 61.

"You’ll never be any good,

Your mother never wanted you,

You will be pregnant within 3months,

You’ll end up in the gutter,

No one will ever want you,

You are the dumbest girl here,

You are a stupid, stubborn, bold girl

You will never do anything outside these walls,

Nothing will ever become of you

It is so hard to forget that, it eats at you all the time.

I now know that I was not dumb or stupid, I lived my childhood in fear, and it was the fear of everyone, is why I said nothing for fear of being thrashed within an inch of my life. It was not just once a week or once a day that I was beaten up, it was every time some of the nuns saw me, which in most cases it was about five times a day or more by one nun and then beaten by the other nun. Mother Euphrasia, Sister Blandina and Sister Simeon were the three nuns who could not pass me, without thrashing out at me.

The ones, like I was, who were totally at the mercy of the nuns, it now seems like we were treated without mercy. There were some of us who were unlucky enough to be singled out as ‘the chosen ones’ of the priest, nuns, lay workers and the older girls of the two orders, who picked us out to sexually abuse us. The sexual abuse has scarred me for life and no amount of counselling can cure me of the pain I feel, within.

The injuries inflicted on me were: severe physical beatings; child labour; semi-starvation; cold and poor clothing; overwork; lack of education; emotional abuse; physical abuse; spiritual abuse; sexual abuse; sadistic torture; pain; suffering from carers and those trusted with our care, who we trusted – through no choice of our own, these sadistic people who hid behind the image of being saintly people in the service of God. Because I was illegitimate I was deemed only good for domestic service and labouring jobs. As it was, I did men’s work in a little girls body.

I never really forgot the brutality, I can put it to the back of my mind, but it comes back at me, especially the nightmares and head pain. Boy! are they bad, so that I want to bang my head against the wall. They won’t go away. I’ve heard people say, That was just the way things were in those days and I get very angry, those nuns had very bad tempers and they never had to control their tempers. I don’t know how they could live with their consciences, with what they did to us and all of the abuse that they did.

Is there anyone going to be held accountable? The state are as guilty as the church here, in many ways, because the state did not, as far as I’m concerned, investigate these matters. The school inspectors came three times a year, and I believe they knew about what was going on. Two weeks before they came, the nuns were told and we worked like hell keeping the place up to scratch, not a bit of dust in sight because what the nuns used to do was rub their fingers along where we had just dusted and WOE BETIDE you, if there was a speck of dust on that finger.

I started to write my story in 1993 when I never knew that it was abuse which was done to me. It was not until I saw some women in 1997 on TV, about the Good Shepherd nuns, and it was the same orphanage that I was in, up to 10years of age. I could not believe that some of these women were abused, and at that time, I still did not think that what the nuns did to me was abuse. I could not get over the fact that men and women of God could do these things to innocent, helpless children.

This book is written through the eyes of a child, telling her story, who’s memories are as vivid today, as though they were yesterday. I was not educated, but the child in me does not go a day without the pain, shame and torment of the abuse, which she was put through, by the very people who should have looked after her. I thought all my life that I was a bad child and that the punishment was done to me for being bad and a bold girl. A child who could not do anything unless she was punished beforehand.

I have written this book because I believe those of us who have been abused by the nuns and priests need to tell our stories so the abuse of children will never happen again.

This crime and our shame will never go away until we stand together as one and say to the Catholic Church,

’No more abuse; No more lies; Tell the world the truth.’

Ann Free Spirit = Ann Thompson

PART I

The Early Years

My story is about my strength and survival a child in pain and torment of her mind, body and soul…

~ Ann Thompson ~

Brief History of Mount Magdalene Laundries

St Joseph Girls Orphanage = Good Shepherd Nuns

Christchurch New Zealand

This invited to New Zealand by Father Laurence Ginaty, in 1885, a foundation stone was laid by Cardinal Moran on the 18 February 1886 and the site was called Mount Magdala, after Saint Mary Magdalene who is called the Penitent because she was a notorious sinner, and Jesus delivered her from seven demons. She was one of His closest friends.

Filled with sorrow over her sin, she anointed Christ by washing his feet with expensive perfume and drying them with her hair. She was present at the foot of Our Lords’ cross, and she was the first to see the resurrected Jesus at His empty tomb. She is the patron saint of contemplatives, hairdressers, penitent sinners, people ridiculed for their piety, perfumers, reformed prostitutes, and sexual temptation.

The design of the whole Mount Magdala complex was modelled on other Magdala homes around the world and particularly, the Convent of the Good Shepherd, at Abbotsford, in Melbourne. Residents were taught embroidery and made vestments for the Church. Sisters and residents made their own clothing and shoes. The main industry of Mount Magdala was however, a large commercial laundry operated by the residents and Sisters. Laundry was collected from all over the city to be washed, steamed and ironed at Mount Magdala.

At its peak in the 1930s Mount Magdala was a self-contained unit housing close to 500 people and until at least the late 1950s, Mount Magdala was considered a ‘self-supporting community’ incorporating extensive farming areas.

Girls and women came to Mount Magdala from all over the country. Some girls were committed by the Courts, others applied for admission themselves or through their parents or guardians. Many of the residents were described by the Lady Superior in 1900 as helpless, shiftless creatures, ruined by alcohol and long years of vice. Some residents lived at Mount Magdala under the care of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd for many years, eventually growing old there. This led the Sisters to extend their work to include the care of the elderly.

Mount Magdala also cared for orphans – the celebration of Mount Magdala’s Golden Jubilee in February 1936 was marked by the opening of the adjoining St. Joseph Orphanage, the building provided for by the will of the late Mrs Eliza White (wife of A.J. White).

The farm also provided sustenance for the St. Joseph orphans. The large size of the Mount Magdala institution and changes in social work practice meant that after 80 years of service at Mount Magdala, the buildings were deemed unsuitable for the care and ‘re-education’ of women and girls. Smaller institutions were developed elsewhere and the Sisters of the Good Shepherd transferred their personnel to centres at ‘Marycrest’, Te Horo, Mount St. Joseph’s, Auckland, and to a hostel for unmarried mothers, ‘Rosanna’, at Waiwhetu, Wellington.

The Lincoln Road/Nash Road complex that had been home to the Sisters of the Good Shepherd from 1888 to 1966 was taken over by the Hospitaller Brothers of St. John of God. It is likely that the farm buildings ceased use around this time – they were certainly considered beyond their useful life by the early 1970s. The Mount Magdala Convent buildings have since been demolished.

REFERENCES:

Encyclopaedia of New Zealand, 1903

Thornton, G. (1986) The New Zealand Heritage of Farm Buildings Fulton, W. Report undated CCC Heritage File O’Meeghan, M. (1987) Held Firm by Faith.

CCC Heritage Files The Press, Weekly News, Star/Sun. Lyttelton Times, Canterbury Times –various issues as footnoted

PS: The Girl’s Orphanage we knew only as Mount Magdala Girl’s Orphanages; hence when we were sent to Nazareth House in 1951, the Nazareth house girls used to call us Mount Moo Loos. It was not until 2001 when our Lawyer Stuart Henderson told us that it was also called St. Joseph Girls Orphanage. Poor Stuart had a hard time convincing us women about this, even after he told us, we would still call it Mount Magdala girls orphanage, because that was all we knew it by.

The main kitchen over on that part of the land were pulled down which the St. John of God Brothers took over and built a hospital on that part of the land as well as the farm. When we left the orphanage, it was taken over by the Nazareth House order of nuns The Poor Sister of Nazareth and it then became known as St. Joseph Boy Home. After a few years, about 10 or so, it was taken over by a Christian group who taught boys and girls, there, while the nursery and the dormitories were rented out to people. I saw and meet some of the people in 2007 and it was still all the same, I mean Mount Magdala girls orphanage, it had not changed one little bit… 2019. I just heard that St. Joseph Boys home was destroyed in the big earthquake in 2011.

CHAPTER 1

Trigger Warning:

My Story includes graphic details of child abuse and sexual assault and may be triggering for some readers. Please take care, as I did not hold back on the abuse which the catholic church did to us innocent children.

***

Mount Magdala St. Joseph Girls Orphanage

My mother was a young girl of 16 years old, when she gave birth to me, 31 of March 1941. My mother was 15years old when she was Raped. She was just a child. I was taken off her and taken away to the catholic church orphanage, just like most of the babies who were born from catholic unwed mothers, but without our mother’s consent.

I feel that was why I was punished continuously, when I was a baby, right up throughout my teenage years to 25years old, until I left. Other children there were treated well. The ones who had no outsider to care for them and visit them, were at the mercy of the nuns.

It was at the time in the Roman Catholic Church everywhere, where the baby was the one who was punished for being born out of wedlock, and that the Illegitimate children were regarded as the product of evil, so therefore had to be punished, to have the evil removed, or they would end up like their mothers. I was told that I had bad blood in me, at the two orphanages. The catholic church has a lot to answer for, especially for my lost childhood, the nuns told me time and time again, that I had the sins of my mother in me, and that they had to punish me to get them out of me, as well as the devil.

June 1941 a wee baby girl of two and half months old, was taken from her mother and dropped off in Christchurch to a catholic church orphanage which everyone called a House of God, by Saint Vincent De’ Paul. They had snatched the baby away from her mother’s arms, in a Wellington catholic nursing home for young unwed mothers. My mother had spent some months there before my birth, she named me Shirley Ann after her younger sister as they were very close. It was not my mother who dropped me off at Mount Magdala girls’ orphanages, it was St Vincent De’ Paul, who were working for the catholic church.

There is so much proof now about the stolen babies of the catholic church orphanages worldwide, it was for a time there, that it was only known in Ireland, but one by one each mother or child which was stolen, came forward looking for their mothers or babies and the stories that came out, about the living hell our mothers had gone through in those homes to keep us. The mothers had no say. The babies were either kept in the orphanage and sold at a later date to childless rich parents, or the other babies were put up for adoption from birth. The babies who stayed at the orphanages were kept there for the nuns’ purpose only, which was to mould the babies and little children into what they wanted them to be and that was to be their slaves, to work long hours and the children were too frightened to complain for fear of being whipped by their leather belts, which the nun’s rosaries hung from around their waists.

To tell you the truth, I do not know if my real name was Shirley Ann or Ann Shirley, you will see here when you read the only report about my 25years, with the catholic church’s two orphanages that the nuns have me as Ann Shirley, yet on my Birth Certificate I am Shirley Ann. I had lots of trouble applying for my Birth Certificate, because I did not know my rightful name my mother had given me, it was so degrading telling them that I was brought up in an orphanage. I had already known the meaning of that word [orphanage] as well as the word [bastard], later on in life. At the very mention of that name brings tears to my eyes, because the thought of a little helpless baby, being used this way by the men and women of God, went unnoticed by everyone around her.

People were very cruel to us children without parents and more so if you did not have a father, the grown-ups were the worst, they did not stop at calling you names, they made sure that you also felt the pain of those words with thrashing and rape. They did not care about how you were hurting inside, their words hurt as much as their violent actions. I hope to God that people have learnt that words hurt and stay with you for the rest of your life. This is verbal abuse and it hurts deep inside and you see the face with those words, it makes me cringe whenever I hear them. You never forget them.

I was taken to Mount Magdala, Girls Orphanage in Lincon Road, Halswell, Christchurch, New Zealand. This orphanage was founded by Eliza White, who died in 1909, she wanted a home for the homeless children, whom she called her orphans, who had nowhere to go. Most of us in the 1940s were tiny wee babies. Later on in Life I used to call myself a war baby, thinking that one of the American army men was my father, I was wrong. The buildings were surrounded by tall trees around the boundaries so far from the main road, you could not see the orphanage, just farm land which us children would soon know and learn to work harder than any of the male workers, who were working the land for the nuns.

When Mount Magdala girl’s orphanage run by the Good Shepherd nuns closed down in 1951, it was taken over by Nazareth House order of nuns, run by the Poor Sisters of Nazareth, (now known as: Sisters of Nazareth) worldwide, but this time it was a boys’ orphanage, called St. Joseph Boys Home. The children ranging from babies up to five years of age [boys and girls] in the nursery, when the girls turned five, they were then sent to Nazareth House, the boys stayed on at St. Joseph Boys Home until they were 12 to 15years old.

Picnic or Orphans Day

From as far back to 10 February 1919 they held Orphan’s Day which was a day to bring some joy to the orphaned children boys and girls alike. The cars and lorries with their drivers, would all assemble in the Christchurch Cathedral Square, then go around to each orphanage to collect the children, who would be waiting outside, to be picked up. 300 children in all. There were six orphanages running back then, one catholic which was Mount Magdala Girls Orphanage with 59 girls from there at their first Orphans Day. The outings were to continue up to when I was in the orphanage in the 1940s, 50s and 60s and still into the 1970s. Orphans Day was now called a day out which we knew as a Picnic. They were picnics we all enjoyed and remembered to this day. In the races when and if you came first, second, or third, you would get a prize, which were lollies.

There was also three to four other parts to our children’s orphanage, on the same land, but not joined together. Up a wide long driveway with archways of climbing roses, towards two enormous wrought iron gates, which would open outward, to both sides of the driveway. Along the right-hand side of the driveway towards these gates, from our orphanage side, was a row of tall trees, which I also climbed to hide from the nuns and older girls, you could not climb over the gates, nor go around them.

Log Cabin

On either side of the gate, was a very deep narrow ditch, which always had water running through it, a long log cabin, made of Ponga, a New Zealand Native Fern, which we used to play in sometimes, when we were older. The log cabin was on the convent side of the gates, which was on the other side of the ditch. No windows in the cabin and it looked the same inside as outside, the only differences was that it had a seat right around the inside. Many a time I would go to the cabin, whenever I saw those big gates open, and spend some time there by myself. At a very early age, I learnt that being by myself was the only time I was safe, that no one could hurt me. The gates were always closed from early evening onwards, until the next morning.

During the hot summer months, we would go down to cool off in the pool. There were two pools which were separated across by a long concrete wall, which was the same height as the rest of the pool. Now in this concrete wall were two round holes at each end, which circulated the water in the two pools and while sitting in the little pool right beside one of the holes we would go to the toilet and watch the urine flowing from our little pool, through the hole into the big girl’s pool. We would quickly make waves on our side of the pool, so no one could see the discoloured water.

Two swimming pools there were, well they were long, a little one for us wee girls who could not swim and the big pool, which was so deep, three quarters of the way down from the ramp we would sit, until we got the urge to get in, your feet could not touch the bottom, even when I went back to work there years later, I still could not touch the bottom. It had a slide at the deep end

Changing rooms along one side as well, and facing the other side was glassed-in wooden doors, which could be wide open, making you feel as though you were outside. That same pool is still there, but heated now, and is used for the sick and not so well people of Christchurch. I went back to see it in 1997 and talked to the lady minder there with some of her patients.

May Pole

Must not forget the May Pole, which was not far from the swimming pool, every year in May which was Our Blessed Lady Month. They would dress us up and we would dance around the May Pole, long different coloured ribbons which hung from the top of the May Pole. In and out we would go and once the ribbons were around the pole, we would dance the other way, to untie them. The swings were not far from the Tennis courts.

You know they celebrated the Christian part of May in the morning, by prayers and Mass and then during the day, we would also celebrate the pagan part of May. Us children never knew the difference between the two, only that we were left alone and not being hurt, while the nuns were laughing and talking together, as we were doing something the nuns wanted us to do, you were safe, for a little while, but in the back of my mind I was always thinking of what form the thrashing and beatings would be, from the hands of God’s servants.

The Magdalene

Going through these gates, you walked a wee way, and there the Magdalene lived, they were a closed order of nuns who wore brown habits, the only time we saw them was through a grate when they received Holy Communion at Mass, on a Sunday Morning. There were long buildings and some of them, you could only see the top half of it, as it was down a little hill. The Magdalene were behind us children at the back of the church behind a grill. We never saw them nor spoke to them, only if we turned around in church, and then the priest was always in our way, serving them Holy Communion, so we could not see them.

There was a part of the buildings which was called Sacred Heart and there were elderly ladies there. I ask myself now, as I have heard so much about the Magdalene, were they one and the same? Because I never saw the old ladies at Mass, only the Magdalene. I used to wonder, and still do, if the Magdalene, who wore those brown habits, were the same old ladies we saw when we walked past the Sacred Heart part of Mount Magdala? We never saw the Magdalene once they left the church, they just seemed to disappear. I do know that in other countries the girls who had nowhere to go worked all their lives in the Magdalene laundries, into old age, and died there. They never knew anything else.

Then we come across the main kitchen to our left, which fed and cooked for the nuns, I think also for the young girls who worked in the Magdalene Laundries, and for any priests who lived there. Each Sunday afternoon when we went for our walks over to the Mt. Magdala where the bad girls lived, we passed the nuns’ big kitchen where Mother Antonio worked. She would come out and give us cakes which she had just baked. She was a slim nun, some days a few of us went over to the main kitchen to take some things over there to Mother Antonio and we were so spoilt, she would sit us down at a table and had a plate of cakes which we ate in a hurry, so as no one could take it from us. Those days were very rare and far between.

Further up to our right was the church which stood out above everything else, with it’s beautiful stained-glass windows, these church windows were and still are the best stained glass windows in New Zealand. The Altar was made from Marble, the kneelers, which we knelt on when we went up to receive Holy Communion, had red velvet cushions, everything in the big church was so magnificent. It was like being in Heaven, a sense of being at peace would come over me.

Behind us were the Magdalene, in front to the right was the Altar and the sacristy. To the left were the Good Shepherd nuns and there were postulates there as well, young girls training to become nuns. It was the convent part of the orphanage. Some years later the girls took their final vows: Poverty, Chastity and Obedience, to God, the Church and their order. The nuns wore white habits with black veils, while the young postulates wore black.

Magdalene Laundries

On the other side of the church, right opposite us children, were the Magdalene Laundry girls. There were some very young girls there, I was to learn years later, that some of the girls were sent there, because they had nowhere else to send the girls, when they turned 15years of age from the orphanage. The nuns also sent the girls up to Wellington to Maryquest, there they worked in another one of the Magdalene Laundries, run by the Good Shepherd order of nuns and they even sent girls over to Australia, to work in the Laundries and the orphanages over there. The courts would send the girls to the Magdalene Laundries instead of sending them to jail and some girls were sent there because there was no other work for them, or they were too pretty for the world outside the orphanages, this happened to the young teenage girls worldwide. They would tell you all of your life how ugly you were like your Soul and hearing this every day, you soon believed their words.

Past the church, we come to the Magdalene laundries, with bars across the windows, so the girls could not escape from the jaws of the monsters, who once got their hands on you, stripped you of your name, made you wear clothes like prisoners wore and they did this in the name of God. I never once went inside this building, we were told that the bad girls lived there and I never wanted to end up in there, it was a place that you could never get out