When Des was forced to lay down the tools after his back gave out, his career shifted in a direction he never expected. Working for Child Safety has brought Des purpose and healing, and it even brought him home. A role as a Cultural Practice Advisor places Des in the heart of communities he cares about and empowers him to be a powerful voice in our fight for progress.
Defying expectations
Des is a proud Mitakoodi and Kalkadoon man, and a Traditional Custodian of Mitakoodi country. He’s also proud to work for the department. These two things are not mutually exclusive, though many people believe them to be.
I always get questions about why I work for the department, considering its history with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children. The past is very important to remember, but to me, it’s just as important to think about the future. It’s no good sitting on the outside complaining when I can be on the inside giving our people a voice and ensuring that the department is making changes that benefit Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander families.
But it wasn’t that long ago that Des had a very different outlook. He’d been a labourer his whole career until a back injury in 2022 forced him to change paths. Someone suggested he apply.
I was like, ‘Why would I want to do that?’ I was still stuck on the history but I needed a job, so I went in for an interview. We had a good yarn for half an hour and then, when I was driving home, they called me and offered me a short-term position. I was very nervous because it was my first office job and I didn’t know what to expect. But now, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Des started as a Child Safety Support Officer (CSSO) in Townsville West but after his three-month contract was up, he knew he didn’t want his journey to end. He moved around the Townsville region as a CSSO before getting an opportunity to act in the role of Cultural Practice Advisor (CPA).
I initially wasn’t fully aware of the responsibilities of the position, but I was eager to take on a role that supports our community and I just thought, ‘Oh cool, it’s a role for a black fella. Why not give it a go?’ Once I learned the ropes, how to do genograms and cultural support plans, it hit me how important the work we’re doing is. We’re helping young people remain connected to their people, country and culture.
Returning home
Des’s stint in the CPA role sparked something in him. His manager encouraged him to apply to do the role permanently, so when he was successful in obtaining the CPA position in Mount Isa, she knew Des was the perfect fit.
Mount Isa is located on the traditional lands of the Kalkadoon, who were renowned as the “elite Aboriginal warriors of Queensland”. It’s a legacy that runs in Des’s blood. But after losing a beloved family member, Des left his country and hadn’t come back for over 10 years. So, although he wanted nothing more than to accept the role, he was understandably hesitant.
The last time I had been home was for my nan’s funeral, so there was a lot of hurt there. I also have three kids in Townsville, so I didn’t want to move 900 kilometres away. But I yarned with them and they were all for it, so I said yes.
When I first returned to country … I can’t describe the feeling. As soon as I drove back onto the land, I felt safe. I’ve done a lot of reconnecting and healing on country, and being around my people has done wonders for my mental state as well.
A voice for change
Doing work that directly impacts his mob has only strengthened Des’s connection to his country. He ensures cultural protocols are followed in community, advises the department on cultural matters and empowers his mob to speak up and make their voices heard, too.
I’m here so our people can have a voice and don’t get done over like they did way back in the day. That’s the reason why we have CPAs - as Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, we’re the best people to be making decisions for our mob because we know them and care about them.
It’s this care that Des’s grandmother instilled in him when he was a little boy, patiently answering the many questions he’d ask about their history, stories and neighbouring mobs. Even all these years later, he’s not finished asking questions. He’s not sure he ever will be.
Our elders are the doorway to our knowledge of the land. I learned everything I know from them, but there’s over 70,000 years of culture, so I’m still learning. People keep asking me if I want to move up in my career, and I will eventually, but my passion lies with my mob. I need to be there on the ground, getting my hands dirty and yarning with them so I can keep learning and doing the right thing by them.
As Des looks to the future, it’s important to him that he remains a trusted voice for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, particularly in the remote areas of Doomadgee and Boulia that he serves. He hopes to bring every learning back to the department to ensure all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples are respected now and into the future.
Change is coming, but it’s slow. We’re taking steps in the right direction, for example; Queensland’s Path to Treaty and Delegated Authority, though we can always be more culturally safe. I’m going to stick around and hopefully guide those steps one day.
Every child needs someone. So does every family. What if it’s you?