“The front and centre of my change of attitude to life”
March 1, 2008 by Kristina Chew, PhD
Filed under Health
Until two years ago, Karem Awad, the former chief of the Rebels outlaw motorcycle gang, was “one of Adelaide’s most feared men—even by police. Today he’s a “churchgoer with a job earning an honest living helping others battle their demons.” The Advertiser reports that Naomi, who is now ten years old and who is autistic, was the reason:
Mr Awad says it was a little autistic girl with a beautiful smile who convinced him to turn his back on a life of guns, drugs and violence.
She was born to the then 14-year-old sister of his ex-girlfriend and her plight touched his heart.
As Mr Awad devotedly cuddled 10-year-old Naomi this week, he seemed like any normal father.
But until two years ago, he was one of Adelaide’s most feared men – even by police.
“Whatever I was doing in my biking lifestyle, I was thinking of her, you know,” he said.
“She’s definitely been the front and centre of my change of attitude to life.
“I basically lost interest in what I was doing before. I had no interest, no passion for it.”
Mr Awad had never heard of autism when he started caring for the toddler and soon took on the role of teacher – helping her with everything from reading to brushing her teeth.
“I definitely believe that God used her to open my eyes and change the way I live my life,” he said.
“I felt important because she needed me. It was just one of those things where you look at someone and you feel like they know you and you know them.
“Her learning disorder didn’t come into the equation at all, although in the early years she was difficult to look after because we didn’t really understand her.
Awad began to “babysit” Naomi when she was three and “unable to talk or communicate like other children her age”; he is now studying for a Diploma of Fitness University of South Australia. Many parents and teachers about how they have been transformed by the experience of raising and teaching an autistic child and Awad’s story is indeed a story of conversion and, too, of redemption and change.
I have various relationships with biker gangs.
The official Hells Angels I have never had a problem with, Maz Harris was an old mucker of mine, but the somewhat anarchic wannabes who didn’t make the grade, now that’s another matter. Once upon a distant time I thought it was not the done thing to kick a guy on the ground so I challenged this biker gang and told them in no uncertain terms this was not the thing to do. I must say they did not show a lot of gratitude and beat me to the ground with pool cues, however never mind it did occasion a visit to the hospital the gang at least had some bizzare code of honour in that in that they were sorry for beating me up although in there code it was my fault for intervening where it was not my business. So they they beat the hell out of me, but I gained there respect.
I gained my respect with the Hells Angels simply in another way. Now I used to ride a lambretta scooter (heck if you are an Angel it’s about the most disrespectful thing compared to the heap o shite that purports to be a harley ) a total anathema to any born and bred biker, but there used to be a pub in Coventry where the local chapter hung out and I did something that seemed to impress them in that although I once went into there pub with an entire scooter engine, just set it down in the middle of the floor and ordered a drink. Sometimes difference recognises difference. I was guileless and I did as I did.
Indeed at one time I was protected by Angels
Wellll…..only time I ran into bikers (maybe not in an actual gang) was when Jim and I were driving around southern Illinois and ended up on a levee—–and then beheld a great array of bikes and bikers, round a wooden structure.
And Hell’s Kitchen in NYC is becoming so gentrified that there’s a restaurant called….Hell’s Kitchen.
wow…that is an amazing transformation
Dang, Larry, you have uh, a bigger, uh, “pair” than I do! Both motorcycles I’ve owned were 2-stroke Yamahas; I would never have dared what you did.
If we ever meet, I’d like to buy you a pint or two, and just sit back, and listen to you talk.
P.s. And take notes.
Snerk!
Wow, just wow. To use a cliche, that’s a real heart-warming story.
Bikers are interesting folk and kind of variable. I used to know a few in my college days, and had some reason to swing by a guy’s digs…shaking in my shoes, because he was a scary dude with a certain reputation. He invited me in, and there was a sweet little old lady–his mom. Decked out in full colors and leather, this big gnarly guy got her a cup of cocoa, tucked in one more afghan “so she wouldn’t catch cold”, kissed her on top of her head, and then told her to “hang tough, man”. It’s one of those things that stick with you.
(Go to Sturgis, SD in the summer and if you pick the right week and you’ll see possibly every biker in America. It’s quite a sight and if checking out the rides isn’t your thing, the Black Hills are gorgeous.)
The UK equivalent to Sturgis is the Bulldog Bash
http://www.bulldogbash.com/