Well, I thought culture shock was over, but there have been times when I find myself at a meal or in the office and, for no apparent reason, this overwhelming sadness begins in my chest and works its way up through my throat to my eyes, which well up with unrestrainable tears. Emotional release maybe from the isolation one feels when people are screaming around you all the time in some strange tongue! Craziness. I think that’s over now but happily (ha!) seems to have been replaced by panic attacks on the bus; something I’ve never experienced before. Total panic, sweat, nausea, where’s the exit? No exit ha ha. Is it claustrophobia? Is it lack of air b/c of all the people shoving you into space that isn’t available and no open window? Did I once say it was good to be packed on a bus b/c you can’t fall?? Oyyy. I don’t know, but on a little tiny van/bus we had to have them stop and the next time I just meditated on the open blue sky and focused on breathing until I could work my way through these solid Russians to the front when some people got off. We were with 5 street kids, all spread out, and going quite a distance, so I didn’t have the option of getting off. It’s not something I would wish on anyone and please pray that these were isolated incidents!!
The main news from the orphanage is good news! – I found out almost all of the babies we play with are being adopted by couples in the U.S. Lately I have been spending most of my days developing the program for the street kids. We are up to 15 kids now and lately there have been about 2-3 new ones each week. We clothe the new ones in winter gear and feed them every day. They told us the other day that they really need to learn English, so we will begin a class after lunch on certain days for an hour. Maybe it will help with our Russian, too, and will certainly be great for developing these relationships.
We had our first girl show up for lunch the other day, which threatened my heart for sure. Her name is Katya, and she was so intimidated that she couldn’t eat. She showed up, however, all on her own, 2 days later and asked for me, so hopefully she will continue to come and also bring the other girls with her. She’s an orphan and has been on the street for 2-3 years. We have met with the Lutheran pastor, who is wonderful, and their church is located right in a central location. They wanted to help with the program as well and have offered the use of their rooms and their shower. They have even said that if someone can stay with them, the kids can sleep there in sleeping bags until we come up with a more permanent arrangement.
I’m getting ahead of myself though b/c I never wrote to tell you about when our first 5 boys took us to their “home.” It was in the ruined basement of an apt. building I have walked by countless times. There are still people who live here, but where the basement apartments were, everything has collapsed and is a maze of broken concrete. We had to sneak across the foyer when no one was around, and then we climbed down into a hole, stepping on ledges of concrete slabs. Thankfully I had my handy key chain light with me! There was a time even with the boys in front calling me and Mark and our translator behind me somewhere where I was momentarily afraid. It is so so dark down there and you have no idea going through these concrete tunnels where you’re walking. They had already told us that at night they had to take turns getting the rats out; lovely.
So, anyway, all of a sudden you see light and climb over this ledge, through a curtain, into a room. I kid you not, these boys had wired the place and had a light bulb hanging and an ancient hot plate that they were using. It was very warm, and they had wallpapered the place and hung pictures ripped out of magazines to make it look like a real apt. What struck me the most was that these kids are so different, but they bond together in need, in their experience of pain, and in their desire and hope for a home. It doesn’t matter that the 4 walls are made of broken concrete and the floor is dirt (they ended up putting carpet down!) They live with rats and spiders and dead air because within these 4 walls they feel a tiny bit of safety and comfort. I was worried about them living down there b/c the air was horrible and filled with all sorts of harmful things, and they were all coughing already after only 2 weeks. The police took care of that, however, b/c they raided the place looking for kids whose pics they didn’t have yet, and threw the boys out and took the ones who had families home. Now the rest of the kids are living in the sewers and sleeping in the dirt. Two have stayed at home but for how long I don’t know.
I just spent the day outside the police station b/c 3 of our boys were arrested on suspicion of stealing a cell phone (one had been beaten for no reason 2 weeks ago by the police next to the store where we meet the kids, so the cops are not high on my favorites list.) We wanted to bring him to the hospital to be checked out b/c his head was still spinning, but the police needed him for questioning today. The Estonian cop who came for them was younger than me, 6’4″ though, so it must have looked comical with me letting him see a bit of my “Irish fire”. calmly of course! He did relent, however, and gave us info and told us when we could pick Alexyei up and later hung out with us outside the station. I confess I’ve never really liked admitting I’m an American when I’m abroad, mostly b/c of the preconceptions and also b/c of the obnoxious way many Americans act in other cultures. But here I am very grateful to be an American. It means I can leave this country, unlike many who are stuck here wishing for better opportunities, and it also means that with cops and other authority figures, I can get them to give out much more information than they would just to our Russian translator. The cop inside the station said nothing but nasty words until Mark and I walked in,and then he asked all sorts of questions about us and gave up all the info we wanted about where the kids would be transferred to etc.
So, for 6 1/2 hours ,about 10 boys stayed in this tiny room waiting for the victim to come and identify someone. Finally our boys were released, but 2 were brought back to the orphanage they had escaped from in a nearby city. They are regularly beaten there by the other kids, and the adults in charge do nothing. We have arranged to go and get their documents and help them find work in Vlad. since both of them can drive -a marketable skill here. It is supposedly a law (the Estonian cop told us this) that the gov’t is actually supposed to get them apts. to live in b/c of their age and orphan status, but he also told us that the apt. thing won’t happen. So instead, they leave them on the streets, where of course they create problems for the cops, who in turn are allowed to treat them as 2nd class citizens and beat them, burn their new coats we get them, and threaten them so that they are afraid to show themselves, and Vlad. can say they have no street kid problem. It’s a great system.
On a happy note, two of our boys are back in school. Anton is 13, and Slava is on scholarship at a mechanical university b/c he’s 17. He looks so great, and I run into him a lot on his way back from class ,and he is filled with purpose and is so proud to be moving forward. He was very grateful for the notebooks we got him and some donated clothes so he can be clean and neat when he goes for his studies. He still comes to eat with us on the weekend. He’s staying with his mother, but it is a volatile situation so I’m hoping it remains bearable for him there.
People lately have called me courageous, and say they are living vicariously through me. I can’t help laughing, b/c I’m not sure I’ve ever been called courageous, and I certainly don’t feel it. Only I know the times I choose fear, only I know the times I am anything but courageous. So I think, “What enables me to do this anyway? What was it that brought me across the world and tears me out of my comfort zone and out of myself every day? What am I seeing that I should tell them about?”
I am seeing this whole different part of the world, getting insight into history and humanity, which is always fascinating. But what strikes me over and over again, is that there is nothing new, only this: that love will change the world, and it will always happen uniquely through each person in a particular place at a particular time. What enabled me to choose this is the same thing that enables certain men with purpose to bear the daily grind, religious to live in vows, my sisters to wake up to a house full of little ones,nauseous in pregnancy, and still choose patience and sacrifice. Love; love of God, and love of the human person who is “other.” Some people, I know, have different things that motivate them. Those things don’t last for me in the long haul, and I would certainly have already burnt out with the street kids were I functioning on them. Love is possible anytime, anywhere, for any person. Because someone somewhere is always making the choice to love, love is always making the world new. The greatness of the human person is always revealed to me when I see someone choosing love despite their own circumstances.
I’ve reflected on this so much here where I often wonder if it’s possible for people to be so crushed and brainwashed over years of oppression, that they lose the very qualities which make them most human. Yet always, empires are built and flourish and fall. Human beings seek power, are dreamers for good, for bad. Some are persecuted, many are oppressed, we go hungry, we live in luxury, some live under tyranny, and some sit idle until tyranny collapses on itself. But always a new cycle, a reorganization, the hope that history doesn’t simply repeat itself inpower, greed, injustice, hope, resistance and downfall.
And the fact is that no matter what system governs a country, no matter what the history or culture or day to day living, the world is the same, because people are the same. We are made to love, and are always capable of it. Some choose hate and kill love. Some turn inward and hold love in and keep love out. And others choose self-donation, no matter where they are, no matter what circumstances they are in. And in the gesture of giving with outstretched hands, they are also in a receptive position and receiving more than they could ever imagine; the old peasant, the mother, the businessman, the missionary. So, I guess we’re always inspired by things we don’t do ourselves. The choice to give ourselves to others is the hard part of it for me I think it’s easier b/c it’s all new, the people are new all the time, being in a new land is romantic and is always an adventure. I am inspired by those who deal with the same people daily, and the monotony that comes with staying in one place, and who stretch themselves to new limits of patience and vulnerability in relationships.
It is Thanksgiving as I write this, which is a happy coincidence because actually the theme of gratitude has been working on my heart for weeks now. Maybe it’s because there are many things we live without here, and many daily trials and heartaches, and so I become especially sensitive to anything good and truly relish it. My roommate is wonderful, and is the one who reminds me, when I feel like I can’t do enough, of the scripture verses about taking care of widows and orphans and taking care of the least and how much importance Jesus attached to simply fulfilling physical needs. Someone sent me a book I really want to read and getting a package like that here made me joyful beyond words. I am also incredibly grateful for all of you, and have started a photo collage on my wall so that every time I enter my room I am greeted by friendly faces (unlike outside!) It makes me smile even more than the Chinese workers, and it helps me focus when I’m praying b/c I can glance at it and take you all in at once. I have some pictures that I brought but am wishing I brought more, and would love it if you would all throw one in an envelope and send it off, especially now since I’ll be here for many more months. No long letter required. It would be great to see you all again, and also for those who have been added to this list, I’d love to know who it is I’m writing to!
Somehow I’m always afraid that I’m missing something or not expressing it in a way that can convey what I’m feeling or thinking And then I realized that if I included every detail with the most perfect words possible, it would not come close to what the experience is. This is long, but you have no idea what I’ve left out! I’ll leave you with a quote that has continually inspired me. It is about the importance of always moving forward, always growing, and always realizing that you are unique and unrepeatable, and that when you love or do anything, only you can bring to the world the fullness of your self. And when we hold back because of fear, laziness, insecurity or lack of self-worth, we cheat ourselves and the world of something great. It’s from the book I’m currently reading.
“The world of fear, joy or tears is a very private and personal world. No ‘they’ can actualize us. Only we can accept the challenge of being our fully human selves. Only we can embrace ourselves and start anew. Only we can decide to live in full humanity. Elie Wiesel tells us of a rabbi who has said that when we cease to live and go before our Creator the question asked of us, will be simply, “why did you not become you, the fully active, realized person that only you had the potential of becoming?” ( From ‘Personhood’ by Leo Buscaglia)
With grateful affection … Erin
