Servus! Saturday March 25, Radu Cristea, one of my very dependable friends as well as translator and I went shopping so that we could take food to the children living at la gara. It wasn't the usual provisions that I usually brought to the children. I generally liked to bring them more than I was able to Saturday because I had no idea how many, if any of the kids we would find. So I got them two huge, round loaves of bread, some "portocale" (orange juice) and some "grepfrue" (grapefruit) juice. I purchased an ever favorite "crenvusti" which is an inexpensive hotdog type of meat. I purchased seven bananas, and I had some cookies for them. We told Csaby that we would be at la gara around 3:00 Saturday afternoon.
We hurried on over to pick up Victoria and Alicia and drove to la gara, a few minutes drive from the Goodwin's house. When we arrived at la gara, it was hustling and bustling with activity as usual. People scurrying to meet trains for arrival and departure. Cabs at the curbs ready to pick up passengers, the ever-present gypsies selling "whatever" or begging. Nothing unusual; however there was no sight of Csaby or any of the kids. Victoria said that they could be inside where they often slept in one of the waiting rooms. We found a parking place, squeezed in between other cars, and proceeded on our mission. Find the kids.
Once inside the station, the smell of unwashed human bodies was sharp. Over in one corner two filthy children were lying on a grungy blanket spread out on the frigid, foul tile floor. Next to them was an adult, sound asleep, covered with part of the blanket. I noticed other unkempt people huddled in corners or trying to sleep in hard, wooden, upright chairs that sort of reminded me of how "Old Sparky" the electric chair used in Florida looks like, intensely uncomfortable. We quickly scanned faces for a familiar one, as sad eyes stared blankly ahead, but no face popped out at us. Victoria then led us to another room where there were men and women and children, sitting or reclining as we had seen others in the entrance of la gara. An older woman with a ratty red hat perched on her bird's nest hair, holding her worldly goods in a "punga" (bag) looking for the entire world doomed and lonely with no soul to care for her. But she wasn't alone. Bodies slumped in one direction or the other filled most of the wooden, upright chairs, trying desperately to be comfortable. So now, adults are joining the ranks of the homeless children! And la gara is one of the foremost places in Cluj to get out of the cold and rain and snow, and to remain relatively safe. These are not the "ordinary" adults that you see on the streets, putting their children out to beg for, and with, them. These are men and women who have been abandoned by their families who are getting on with their lives; escaping the misery Romania has to offer for a more productive and lucrative life in the West, be it Western Europe or the United States. Oh the pity of it all! Victoria explained to me that as more and more adults join the ranks of the homeless, the need is so great now that the Orthodox Archdiocese of Cluj is going open a home to minister to these adults. It's scheduled for opening next year. But for now, the scene presents massive sorrow and grief, one of hopelessness and for many of these newly homeless, fear for their personal safety and uncertainty of what the future might hold for them.
We scanned vacant faces for a familiar one among the people in this drably brown waiting room, but found none so we headed over to a small part of the train station where Victoria said the kids also stayed. Once we entered this station, the same scene as the last greeted us; homeless adults, a few children, everyone needing a bath really bad, smoke from cheap cigarettes filled the room adding to the stench of the unwashed clothes and bodies. We searched this round room for a familiar face but as before, recognized only misery. A roadmap of lines creased into the faces, which seemed ancient and ageless at the same time. Oh the tales those lines could weave! These lost souls had families, friends, lives, and now they sit empty and alone, waiting, waiting, waiting.
We hurried out toward the tracks and around to the street where we spotted two children, probably no more than 12 or 13 years old. Was it possible that they might be a couple of kids that we knew from the caves? Did Victoria recognize either of them? One of the shaggy-headed ruffians had the ever-present bag to his face. He was "huffing" glue and had the familiar glazed over look in his eyes. Neither was familiar to us. I shook my head in disbelief. Where were the kids from the caves that I grew to love that summer three years ago? I was getting discouraged by the minute. We headed back to the car.
We didn't want our food to go to waste and considered leaving it here at the station with the adults that were in need. But there was so little food and so many people. We didn't need to cause a riot over such a small amount of food! Victoria suggested we take the food to a shelter that opened in October 1998 for homeless children called Ecce Homo. It was in this shelter that some of the "cave kids" went for weeks or several months before heading wildly back to the streets. It was a good idea, so we drove a couple of miles to that shelter. I desired to learn more from these people at Ecce Homo about some of the "cave kids."
When we arrived, we were greeted by two of the workers and were told the kids were out at a park playing soccer, but they welcomed us in and gladly accepted the food we brought. We began asking questions about the children they take in and I asked about the kids from the caves, Calin, his brother Gabi, Joseph, Marius, and Cristi. They knew about all of them because at one time or another, they had all stayed at the shelter. But, "Even though we loved them, accepted them back each time they left, the children would not accept the rules and regulations and continued to return to the streets." The women seemed genuinely sad about the boys and showed us pictures of the children who are living there now as well as pictures of some of the "cave kids."
The women gave us a tour of the shelter and it was comfortable and homey. The children had definitely made their rooms a reflection of their lively personalities with pictures and artwork. There was nothing sterile or "institutional" about this shelter. Driving back to the Goodwin's house, I felt a sense of foreboding.
I have learned in Romania that no matter what anyone tells you, there is always the possibility of exaggeration, false reports, etc. The night after our visit to Ecce Homo, a couple of my translators were driving around the city with me and I decided to go up to see the caves where the kids used to live. I suppose I needed to check for myself to see if the caves were really sealed with rocks. We arrived at the Transilvania Hotel, a large hotel with a magnificent view of Cluj stretched out below. The wonder of it all never ceases to take my breath away! Tonight was no exception as lights shimmered beneath us. The caves were a few meters down a wide sidewalk of steps. As we made our way toward the caves I half expected to see one of the boys taking the steps two at a time to meet us. Tonight the caves were silent and empty but not sealed as had been reported to me. And, there were signs that some of the homeless still used the caves, but not on this night. Through the grapevine, I've also learned that Calin, the little "wild one" of the "cave kids" is indeed still in Gherla Prison and wasn't released as Csaby had told us he would be. Now, there are three "cave kids" I need to see in Gherla Prison. There is nothing more I can do except wait, hope and pray.
In the meantime, life goes on. Everyday life in Romania never ceases to amaze me. In driving through the countryside to visit friends in Bistrita a town about two hours east of Cluj, I'm struck by how quickly the days are passing and I want to hold on to every minute! I pass through the villages where chickens peck at gravel perilously close to the road. If they don't watch out, they'll be in someone's soup before evening! Sheep dogs run at the heels of sheep looking forever like little balls of cotton dotting the hills and meadows. The rugged shepherds striding beside the sheep, long staff in hand have long wooly coats thrown over their shoulders. I understand the shepherds use these coats almost like tents at night as they sleep under a heavenly canopy keeping a watchful eye on their flocks. Of course on the road are the ever present and colorful gypsies in wagons, their horses pulling, sometimes at a full gallop, with red tassels in their bridles flying with the wind. On this fine spring day, the sun has graced the land with its presence and many of the folk take the opportunity to get their multicolored rugs out and beat, beat, beat until the dust flies no more!
One of the best examples that spring is around the corner are the "barze" (storks) returning to Romania. Barze build their nests high atop telephone poles or on chimneys of homes, which incidentally the locals believe brings good luck to their home. The huge nests also make nice roosting places for other smaller birds. I always look forward to sighting the barze, and finally I saw the first one since being in Romania, and what a sight he was, all white with black markings, perching atop the nest he and his mate return to each year about this time. What a glorious day to be returning home! Tomorrow though may be rainy and cold again!
Bistrita was our city of refuge where we were welcomed, housed and fed in May 1989 on my very first trip into Romania. In the communist years, it was against the law for Romanians to have anything whatsoever to do with westerners. If they even spoke with a westerner it was supposed to be reported. My friend Doina told me on subsequent visits that she nearly passed out from fear when she saw not one but FIVE Americans sitting in the living room of her pastor's home! These Romanians were risking their very freedom for Americans who had come to bring supplies, medicine, a few Bibles, friendship and love. In those days rationing was very strict. In some parts of Romania families were allowed but one chicken per month! Yet everywhere we went we were served not only chicken but also pork and lamb. I asked our group leader at that time if it was true that rationing was really as tight had been reported. His answer astonished me when he said, "Zan, you've been eating their rations." I think that was the exact moment when I fell in love with Romania and her people. They sacrificed their own well being for complete strangers. It was beyond my comprehension. It was these memories that flooded to my mind as I traveled to see my friends in Bistrita.
When I got back to Cluj, there was a message posted on the elevator door to all the tenants of the building where I live. I had no idea what it was all about, so the next chance I got, I asked Andrei Moldovan, one of my translators what the message said. He told me, "Everyone has to clean up around the yard and block this Saturday at 3:00. Anyone not participating must pay 10,000 lei. This is serious and not an April Fool's joke." Sure enough on Saturday afternoon, the yard between the three blocks of buildings was filled with an army of good citizens cleaning shrubbery, pulling weeds, trimming, raking, and the whole thing. I suppose I have to give Silvia an extra 10,000 lei for my lack of participation. By the way, 10,000 lei are 51 cents!
Be still my heart! I found my "cave kids" today, at least one of them! Andrei and his friend Alina were with me as we dropped a friend of theirs off at la gara when I got this hair-brained idea to go look for the street children. We parked the car and headed down to the passageway that leads from one side of the street to the other to avoid traffic. We turned the corner and at the end of the passageway, next to the steps was a group of seven boys. They had their plastic bags to their faces, obviously huffing away on their glue. As we approached, one of them with a black baseball hat on his head started walking toward us and I heard my name called, "Zan, Zan, ZAN!" All of a sudden I recognized Gabi as he ran toward me and gave me the biggest, tightest hug he could muster. He kept repeating my name over and over! I was surprised he could even recognize me in such a dark passageway, much less through the glazed over expression in his eyes that comes from huffing glue. He was so excited to see me and kept asking over and over how I was and where I had been. I asked where some of the others were from "la grote" (the caves) up at the hotel. I'd say their names and he would say, "la casa" (home) or "Gherla" and I knew that one was in prison. I began to ask the other boys their names and ages one by one. Emil was the oldest at 22. He looked rather out of place with his nicely cut, clean hair, and wore clothes that looked in much better shape than the ragged clothing the others wore. Emil is also the leader of the group living at la gara with Gabi being co-leader. There was Lucian, or Luci (pronounced Luchi) who seemed uncontrollable, loud and mean. But he is smart and speaks some English. The big surprise came in a very small frame, sandy hair cropped close to the head, and when I asked for a name, SHE said, "Mihaela." I asked her age, expecting her to be around 15 or 16 years old, but she said she is 22 years old!
Quickly my reunion with Gabi turned into another reunion of sorts as Emil began questioning me about certain things about my stay in Romania back in the summer of 1992. We were bringing teams in and out of Romania that whole summer, living at a local hotel, working in one of the orphanages nearby as well. Little neighborhood kids who wanted to wash our vehicles for a price were always pestering us back then. Generally we'd let them wash the cars and vans because they always needed a good scrubbing anyway. Emil started asking me about some of the people from our team who were living at the hotel with us for the entire summer. He asked about "mare" (big) Jeff and he asked about Michael and Rosa. My jaw dropped to the floor naturally as he mentioned friends of mine. Quite incredulously I asked, "How do you know these people?" "I used to wash your cars at the Casa Tineretului those many years ago," Emil said. He went on to tell me that he remembered that we had all lived on the first floor at the hotel and he remembered our big 4th of July party. I was flabbergasted to say the least!
We all walked up the steps together to the street. The kids were hungry and so a ritual was being repeated as I went into one of the stores and bought bread, crenvusti, and sweet mustard for the meat. They also asked me for money for batteries for their "boom box" but I told them I would buy the batteries myself and right away we found a little stand outside that sold batteries.
We hurried back down to the passageway under the street where we talked more. Emil was the one who interested me most. I asked how he ended up on the streets. Quite simply, he said that his parents had broken up, they sold their apartment, one thing led to another, he ended up getting some kind of job, but then he also ended up in Gherla Prison for a year. He was released from Gherla Prison in February. He said he isn't allowed to get a job for six months after getting out of prison. I really wasn't clear on why. "It is the law," was all I got.
While we were talking, I noticed a little urchin, dirty as the streets themselves, creeping slowly toward us. He had a little green knit cap pulled down way over his ears and nearly covering his eyes. He was layered in clothing, and he had the saddest brown eyes I think I've ever seen. As he crept ever closer, Luci saw him and started at him like a demon out of hell!
"What's the problem?!" I nearly shouted.
"Oh, Luci doesn't like him," Emil calmly replied.
Luci came back to the group but glared menacingly toward the little one every so often, sort of to give him a warning to stay away.
Finally the boys wanted to quit talking and to get down to the business of eating. Andrei, Alina and I made our way up the steps, I sent Andrei back to get a crenvust for the little one sitting at the top of the steps. Luci didn't like it one bit and started after us but was called back by the others. Andrei handed him the crenvust as I knelt beside him and asked, "Cum te cheama?" What is your name? "Alin," (pronounced Ahleen) he said in a small, scared voice. I asked, "Cit ani ai?" How old are you? "Doisprezece," 12 years old. He had only taken a couple of bites out of his crenvust when Luci came up the steps, glowering with eyes that were smoking with purely evil intent. Andrei blocked him from Alin and told him to leave Alin alone. Needless to say, Luci wouldn't be called off and kept circling and threatening. Finally the bigger boys bounded up the steps and pulled Luci away.
We wanted to protect this boy from Luci. Alin was truly frightened of him and told us that Luci beats up on him. Gabi and Emil brought the others out from the passageway and then Gabi pulled some bread off and handed it to Alin. This infuriated Luci and he began threatening again.
We tried to lead Alin away from the other boys, and it was then that we learned why Luci hates Alin so much. Luci kept beating up Alin so Alin went to the police about it and turned Luci in. No wonder Luci comes at him so ferociously. But Alin was only trying to protect himself from his tormentor when none of the other boys would help him and probably even encouraged Luci with his menacing ways.
Finally, I turned to Emil and Gabi and pleaded with them to protect this "little one." They didn't quite know what to make of me pleading with them like that. Andrei translated for me again, "Please keep this little one safe from Luci." Finally, I think I made my point and they put their arm around Alin and acted like they were going to help him. However, Andrei and I were suspicious and didn't believe they would.
We promised them that we would return tomorrow, Tuesday, around 4:00 to 5:00 in the afternoon with more food.
Finally! Contact!
Cu mult drag. . . (With much love)
Zan