Good news is not knowing

There's good news and bad news when it comes to the kids in Aboriginal communities.
The bad news is that of all those who have it hard here, it's the kids who have it the hardest. The good news is they just don't know it.
As sad a comparison it may be, the kids, like the dogs here, wander from house to house at all hours of the day and night, usually in search of something to do, eat or drink. All are rake thin, most are raggedy, snot-nosed and always sick, and many are "grown up" by wider family - aunts, uncles and grandparents - rather than their immediate parents, who are often interstate, in gaol or deceased.
But despite the depressing circumstances, the kids are amazingly resilient, and - usually - relatively happy. It doesn't take long for them to get to know the outsider (me), and once they do, they're incredibly trusting and tactile. As I write this, one kid sits on my knee, one has his arm around me, another leans against me, and two tiny black hands struggle to hold onto my left arm.
Although most kids in the communities I'm working with lack an understanding of 'traditional' bush culture, there's no question they've created their own modern day equivalent, a creole of Australian sport, Top 40 music, Hollywood celebrity and immediate Aboriginality.
It's a strange mix, and I often wonder what these kids - born, bred and still living in abject poverty - think when they watch the music videos filled with flashy cars and luxurious lifestyles, or how they feel when they see the contrast between themselves and the other (usually non-Aboriginal) kids at the regional shopping centre.
Then again, perhaps they don't see it - and the good news remains that they don't know what they don't know.