Fighting back against ice: How Aboriginal rehab centres are changing lives

Aboriginal community rehabilitation centres are providing a beacon of hope for young First Nations people struggling with addiction, as Australia grapples with a national ice crisis.

Kane Wandin's withdrawn demeanour shifts when asked if he has a favourite tattoo. The 26-year-old pulls back the sleeve of his hoodie, straightens his posture and holds his arm stiffly in front of his chest, as if providing a shield for his own body. Etched across his forearm, in permanent black ink, is the word Wurundjeri.

"I spent basically my whole life on drugs and on the streets," he says. "Connecting to culture was what [gave] the most strength in helping me sort myself out and get off drugs."

Hidden from view, amid the rustling gums and gentle breeze from a distant coastline, the lives of young First Nations people like Mr Wandin are quietly being changed forever.

Set in an undisclosed nook of Victoria's Mornington Peninsula, Bunjilwarra is an Aboriginal community-controlled residential rehabilitation centre and healing site for people recovering from addiction. It is perhaps the least clinical setting imaginable.

An open fireplace sits at the heart of the Bunjilwarra grounds. Residents are encouraged to further develop their physical and mental wellbeing.

"To feel the energy here being solely run by mob, for mob … you've got Uncle over there, you've got Auntie calling out, 'Lunch is ready, come and eat,'" says Carla Lauch, a Gunditjmara Kirrae Whurrong—Bundjalung Yaegl woman and youth mentor at Bunjilwarra. "Honestly, it feels like home."

As Australia's drug consumption reaches record levels, experts say the culturally centred model offers valuable lessons for a broader community problem.

"This place gave me stability," Mr Wandin says. "It saved my life."

If there is hope to be found inside the walls of Bunjilwarra, there is ringing alarm to be heard outside of them. For those working at the intersection of drugs, crime and homelessness, the unabated rise of methamphetamine in particular — or ice — in the broader community is of profound concern.

Recent wastewater analysis shows methamphetamine use continues to push to new record highs. Australia has among the world's highest per capita use of ice, with recent national drug detection data finding record levels turning up in wastewater.

"The methylamphetamine market is the highest risk drug market in Australia. It poses the highest threat. It also causes the most harm of the illicit drugs," says Shane Neilsen, principal drug specialist at the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission (ACIC). "Cocaine seems to get a lot of the coverage. The point I would make is that twice as much methamphetamine is consumed in Australia as cocaine. It's at least twice the problem."

The ACIC estimates the street value of the drug at $11 billion over the most recent 12-month reporting period. There are growing accounts of ice turning up in the furthest corners of the country, including remote Aboriginal communities.

"If anything, per capita it's more prevalent in regional and remote areas of Australia than it is in capital cities," Mr Neilsen says. "Serious and organised crime groups have established networks that can supply local communities."

Carla Lauch says Bunjilwarra, which is run by the Victorian Aboriginal Health Service, is seeing a "huge increase" in young people who have used methamphetamine.

"Meth is very scary," she says. "Alcohol was bad enough for our mob and then you've got something as potent as methamphetamine … to see how it changes them and the effects that it has on their lives and their family and the community is devastating."

New analysis found Indigenous Australians were more than four times more likely to die from an unintentional drug overdose, with methamphetamine a significant contributing factor.

On the Central Coast of New South Wales at the Aboriginal community-controlled rehabilitation treatment centre The Glen, demand for services far outstrips capacity.

"You literally couldn't even apply for a bed at The Glen a lot of the time. I'm not saying that with pride," The Glen's executive director, Joe Coyte, says. "We don't shut applications because beds are full. We shut because beds are full and we've already got 100 people who've been assessed and another 60 or 70 in the system being assessed. So there's no point us taking more applications."

In his time as deputy director of the National Drug and Alcohol Research Centre, Anthony Shakeshaft investigated the benefits of Indigenous-led programs in aiding rehabilitation and combating drug harm. He believes more centres are "absolutely" needed around the country.

"If you just think about it economically, there's no reason you wouldn't do it," says Professor Shakeshaft. "A really key feature of these programs is that they improve clients' health broadly, not just in terms of substance abuse. Clients that go to rehab and do a period in an Indigenous drug and alcohol service are [also] much less likely to end up back in jail."

It is an argument echoed by Mel Bedford from Bunjilwarra, where six young residents at the centre are currently on bail.

"We are keeping kids out of jail here," she says. "It's a lot cheaper for us to have a resident staying here than what it is to keep a resident in custody, and we're definitely helping their healing journey rather than being in custody."

Culture is central to the rehabilitation process at Bunjilwarra.

"Some of them are so sick culturally," Ms Lauch says. "We talk about mental health, but if they're also culturally and spiritually"