Servus! Tonight, Tuesday, was wild to say the least. We sneaked into a hospital for contagious diseases to see Csaby, a drunk and angry security guard wasn't any too pleased with us, we had to talk Gabi into giving Csaby a bath and helping delouse him before the nurse would even possibly think about touching him. Just a typical evening in Romania. At least for me anyway!
The whole thing with Csaby and the hospital started yesterday when Andrei and I went up to bring the cave kids some socks, milk, bread, crenvusti, etc. and we wanted to talk with Csaby to let him know we had been hunting for a nice warm coat for him. When we arrived at the cave, everyone was present but Csaby. I asked Emil where Csaby was and he pointed over to the cave. He also told us that Csaby was sick.
Three other men were at the cave Monday, and they kept waiting for the kids to divide up the goodies so they could speak with us. One of the men, Tibi, told us he had a foundation that was helping the homeless. The other one, Marcel, told us he used to be in the orphanage at Gilau, a small town a few kilometers west of Cluj, until he was 18 years old. Tibi also used to have a second hand shop and wanted us to take him there so he could get some blankets and jackets and pants for the kids. We hopped in the car, taking Emil with us, and headed to a home where all the blankets and clothes were stored. The next thing I knew, my trunk was filled to the brim with blankets and quilts. There were also a couple of bags of jackets, shirts and jeans. Nice haul!
We headed back up to the cave and distributed the "loot." Marcel tended to think that the kids would sell most everything they couldn't wear, including the blankets. All of a sudden, it dawned on me who Marcel was. Radu Cristea had told me about the bit on TV about the man who used to be homeless and now was working with the street kids. I asked him, "Were you the one on TV yesterday?"
A smile came across his face and he said, "Yes, that was me."
I asked, "You used to be homeless too?"
That's when he told us he was in the Gilau orphanage until age 18. He said that he's taking care of the cave kids because he's been there too and he knows what they're going through. He usually checks on them at night and he even has a policeman coming by the cave in the wee hours of the morning, making sure they're ok. He said, "I may not live here with them, but my heart is here with them."
I realized that Csaby still wasn't around and again I questioned Emil as to his whereabouts. "In grota," he said and pointed over his shoulder toward the cave.
"Can I go see him?" I asked.
"Da," Emil said as I started up toward the path that leads to the cave.
I bent down to enter this dark, smelly, damp grotto and could barely made out Csaby's figure lying on filthy blankets, his smile as big as the sun!
"Sunt bolnav," (I'm sick) Csaby said, his hand flat against his chest. "Sunt bolnav."
"Stiu," I replied (I know).
I asked Emil what was wrong with Csaby.
"His chest is hurting and he is having problems with his lungs," Emil replied.
Marcel told me that he would like to take Csaby to a hospital but until he was cleaned up and disinfected of the fleas and lice, no one would touch him in the hospital. He told us that he takes the kids to get a bath twice a week, but this was going to be tough. He told us he'd check on him the next day and if Csaby was worse he'd see what he could do.
Which brings us to tonight. Andrei, Doris, Tibi, Marcel and I were going to a meeting that was being held by a woman desiring to work with the street kids. She wanted to bring all of us together who are also interested in these kids. When we went to pick up Marcel and Tibi, that's when we learned Marcel had taken Csaby to the hospital for contagious diseases. We hurried on over to the hospital to find out about Csaby. Marcel was standing in front of the hospital when we pulled up and he motioned us to park the car. He told us that Csaby is in some kind of crisis and at first they wouldn't take him into the hospital. Marcel knows one of the doctors at this hospital, and through a lot of translation, I surmised that he talked the doctor into taking Csaby into the hospital today.
The security guard was rather tipsy and wasn't too excited about letting all of us in, so Andrei and Marcel and I were allowed to go up to the room to see Csaby and Gabi who was sort of watching over Csaby. The room was clean and had two beds in it, but Csaby was the only patient. The sheets looked worn but appeared washed and starched. Csaby looked even more helpless lying on the bed, and it was evident that he was in pain as he kept motioning to his chest and telling us that he was sick. A nurse came in and all this talk began going back and forth in front of Csaby as though he wasn't even in the same room. Nurse Peter, all official in her white uniform with green trim, informed us that she wasn't going to touch Csaby because of the fleas and parasites he is infested with. She even said that she wouldn't help him go to the bathroom at night. She said that someone would have to stay in the room with him to help him do all those little necessities.
We turned to Gabi and asked him if he would stay with Csaby."No way," Gabi said, "I'm not going to spend the night in the hospital."
I thought, "Now where else in the world does Gabi have to go besides the caves?"
I told Andrei to bribe him with money. Gabi even turned down the 100,000 lei ($5.00) I offered him to stay with Csaby. I was upping the bribe even higher, but Gabi wouldn't budge.
"Well, that's it, I'm going to stay with Csaby," I said quite emphatically. I was deadly serious. I plopped my purse on the next bed, laid my car keys beside it, and repeated, "I'll stay with Csaby tonight."
When it registered in everyone's heads what I was saying, they all looked at me like I had lost my mind.
That's when Marcel said, "I have a friend who will come stay with Csaby tonight and I will stay with him tomorrow night. We will trade off each night."
Being in this Romanian spital as they call their hospitals, brought back shall I say, "fond" memories for me? This was my second adventure into a Romanian spital. Since coming to Romania the first time in 1989, I had always wanted to visit the inside of a Romanian hospital. On a visit to Romania in 1991, I no sooner expressed my desire to see inside a hospital to a doctor friend of ours, than I was lying in the middle of a street in Bistrita less than 24 hours later. I had fallen off a curb and my ankle was broken! Not a pretty sight! I was rushed to the nearest spital where two x-rays were taken of my ankle. Then I was wheeled up to the second floor where a doctor who looked just like Boris Yeltsen met us. I was assured that this gigantic man with a huge shock of gray hair was the "best bone doctor is our region." After he read the x-rays and pointed out the fracture in the bone, he immediately began taking off his shirt and got ready to put a temporary cast on my leg. As he worked over me, his cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth and all I kept thinking was those ashes were surely going to fall into the plaster of Paris cast he was applying to my leg.
I was in a lot of shock from the pain, and there was absolutely no pain medicine to be found! My husband Dennis and I had brought medicine with us to give away to clinics in the different cities we visited, but we had no medicine left at all. So, I spent a miserable night in pain at our friend's home. In the morning we returned to the spital to get a permanent cast on my leg and then we were to head back to Vienna that very day for our flight back to the States a couple of days later.
The doctor met us bright and early at the spital where he and his assistant proceeded to put on the permanent cast, cigarette ashes ready to fall in the plaster of Paris again. This time, as with the day before, a woman with a little purse on her arm kept following us around and asking, "Do you have insurance? How are you going to pay for this?" So, after the cast was applied and drying, we could not ignore her any more. My husband said, "Of course we have insurance, but it doesn't cover us here in Romania."
"Then can you pay cash?" she asked.
Dennis and I looked at each other. I knew what was going through his mind because it was going through mine also. We had about $250 left in cash, and no where in Romania at that time were credit cards in common use. We needed some of the cash to get through Romania and Hungary and on into Vienna.
Dennis turned to her and said, "We can pay cash, but we need to know how much it's going to cost."
"Oh, I am very embarrassed to tell you," she began. "It is nineteen American dollars."
I looked at Dennis and nearly fell out of the wheel chair with laughter! Nineteen American dollars was all? Certainly, we could afford that!
So, for two x-rays, two casts and a pair of crutches, we were out of there for nineteen American dollars. As I was being wheeled into surgery back in the States one week later so they could pin some of the splintered bones together, I reminded my orthopedic surgeon that all I had paid in Romania was nineteen American dollars. "Sure, sure, right," was my American doctor's reply.
So now here I am, back in a Romanian hospital, trying to get treatment for this handicapped young man who was being argued over and all the while he was laying in the bed, smiling and saying how sick he was. I wanted to scream, "This is ludicrous! A man's life is at stake and we're arguing over who is going to take care of him, why a nurse won't touch him or help him. Let's just get out of here and go get whomever is going to stay with Csaby and take care of him." After the "who's going to do what" died down, we did just that. But first, we had to drop Tibi off at his meeting with the people working with the homeless.
We made our way back across town to where Marcel lives. Sure enough, a young man named Ionut who also lives in the same apartment and who had lived in the same orphanage with Marcel, gladly volunteered to take care of Csaby. Turns out Ionut used to work in a clinic or hospital setting where he had taken care of the sick and infirm and was totally familiar with this kind of work.
While we were at Marcel's he showed us all the clothing and food he had set aside for the cave kids. He spoke about getting kids to the baths once or twice weekly, and how this older couple we were introduced to, made hot meals for the cave kids. Having also been homeless, Marcel really knows where these kids are coming from and his heart is quite obviously burdened for them.
It was getting close to 9:00 and we had to get back to Csaby and relieve Gabi and drop Ionut at the spital. The security guard at the spital was a bit more inebriated now, and visiting hours were definitely over so Marcel suggest we head for the basement area and sneak in the back way. Marcel began ringing the bell and beating on the door hoping someone would hear and let us in. After about five minutes a very official looking woman opened the door and asked what we wanted. Marcel began to explain our mission and she motioned us in and said, "Un moment" and headed for another office. Doris, Andrei, Marcel, Ionut and I waited, and waited, and waited. She finally returned and there was a bit more talk, and she left us once more. Marcel turned to Andrei and told him something in Romanian. Andrei then turned to me and in English said, "Since this is a hospital for contagious diseases, you and Doris and I must have an injection before we go up to see Csaby."
I felt my eyes pop open, the blood drained from my face, I felt my mouth go dry and I began to back towards the door behind me as quickly as I could. The only thing I remember saying was, "No! No way am I going to get any kind of injection. I'm out of here now."
Doris was just as panic stricken as I was. "Not me! I was in this hospital when I was five years old and it scared me to death! I'm not getting an injection either."
Doris and I were ready to bolt and run when Marcel's deep brown eyes began to twinkle, Andrei couldn't suppress his grin any longer and both of them burst out laughing. "Gotcha!" Andrei exclaimed.
Some joke!
When the laughter died down, a woman came through the door and she began to ask us what we were doing there. I realized this woman was a doctor and seemed to know Marcel. She then led us through the offices and into the main part of the hospital and past the drunken security guard who eyed us with suspicion.
We entered Csaby's room and he was somewhat cleaner than we had left him. Gabi seemed rather proud of himself for having gotten Csaby this clean. Csaby seemed a bit more relaxed, which made me feel a lot better about leaving him here. Ionut seemed quite capable and sure of his ability to take care of Csaby. This doctor assured us that Csaby would be taken care of properly, and we were able to reassure Csaby that he would be okay. There was nothing more we could do, so we left.
Wednesday was supposed to be Gherla Prison day, but Ole was called away Tuesday for a family emergency and couldn't go to the prison with me until Thursday. That gave me Wednesday free to purchase the necessary items to take to the boys in prison. Ole had instructed me to get each one a prayer book as well as some nice icon cards. I also wanted to get them some socks, toothpaste, toothbrushes (furnished by Victoria), soap and some fruit. Then I divided them all up into separate "pungas" plastic bags
Ole is not only a social worker, teaching at the Christiana School Dropout Program; he is also a student at the Orthodox Theological Institute, just months away from graduating. He asked me to meet him in front of the Institute at 11:00 am Thursday where Adi as well as Alina, another teacher from the Christiana School would also meet us.
The drive to Gherla is about 45 minutes. Spring is trying desperately to overtake winter. Greenery is bursting through the bare branches of the trees, lambs romp in the meadows, the "barze" storks perch high in their nests and the sun is peeking through clouds that can't seem to decide whether to rain or make way for a sunny day.
My heart began to race at the site of Gherla Prison, infamous during the communist years for its torturous practices. But now, since the huge pink structure has been painted a whitish-gray, it didn't look nearly as garish and didn't seem as intimidating as before. We found the visitor's center and Ole went inside to present our papers from Prison Fellowship Romania. Ah, it's nice to have magic keys. Ole came out and informed us that it would be about 40 to 45 minutes before we could see the boys, so we went to get some coffee and juice.
At 1:00 we all went into the visitor's center where a guard looked over our papers once again. He promptly informed us that the boys Ole had come to see were here, and that Calin, one of the cave kids was here, but that Jacomin and Claudiu, the other cave kids I wanted to see were not here at Gherla Prison. My heart dropped to my feet! Ole said that there must be some mistake. He knew they were all here. The guard looked at the names again, then checked them against his roster, and replied, "Nu. Nu. They are not here." I panicked! Ole remained calm and said that possibly we had gotten their last names wrong and that we would ask Calin when we saw him. He asked the guard, "Would that be okay?" "Da," the guard replied, yes.
After we placed all our purses, backpacks, satchels, coats and camera into a little locker, we were escorted into another room that had four long tables in it. The guard motioned for us to take a seat at the end of two tables with our backs to the wall and we were facing a door through which the boys would enter. We waited nervously.
The door opened and three boys walked through. I recognized not one of them. Two of them immediately recognized Ole and Alina as their teachers from Christiana School several years ago and ran over to hug him and Alina. The other boy seemed a bit confused, then I recognized him and he recognized me and he let out a little cry and ran over to me and hugged with all his might, his body shaking as he wept and wept. Calin! I couldn't believe this was the little wild boy from the cave kids in 1997, Calin!
The boys had to sit at the other end of the tables across from us. Adi was beside me and he would translate for Calin and me. One of the guards was present at all times. Ole asked Calin what Jacomin's last name was and for Claudiu's also. Calin told the guard and he sent someone off to look for them. When he returned, he informed us that Jacomin was here and would be coming to see us soon, but Claudiu was in court today, receiving his final sentence.
When I last saw Calin he 14 years old and barely came up to my chin. Now he's 16 years old, and almost as tall as I am. His eyes though are now clear from the drugs and his intelligence shows through loud and clear. As we spoke, I told him, "I flew all the way from California just to see you." I wanted him to know that even though I had not been able to come back to Romania for almost three years, I had never forgotten him. I purposely wore a shirt to the prison that I used to wear up to the caves that summer. I wanted the boys to associate this silly T-shirt with the crazy looking cats on it with those happy times. I asked Calin if he remembered this shirt. "Oh yes!" was his immediate reply. Then he asked me if I remembered a particular little poem the boys always loved to hear me say in Romanian. "But of course," was my quick response and I stood up and started to recite the poem in Romanian and this brought a fabulous laugh out of him, and tears.
Every time I looked deeply into this boy's eyes, I saw a light there that I saw three years ago. This child is redeemable and is a treasure waiting to be opened. Calin kept wiping the big tears from his eyes with sleeves too long, that came freely as he looked at me and I looked at him. This tough little boy, uncontrollable and wild, never wanting anyone see a soft side lurking beneath the surface as I always knew it to be, was now openly crying and giving me that sly little grin I loved so well. We had some awkward moments as would be expected, but all in all, our reunion was like a dream.
The door opened once again and Jacomin appeared his jet-black hair much shorter than before, making the oddly symmetrical, long, thin scar even more prominent around his scalp. Shortly after meeting Jacomin in 1997, he told me that the man he assumed to be his "father" was drunk and had taken a sickle to his head when he was just a little boy. Jacomin stood in the doorway for a few seconds, then in his slow speech pattern said, "Zan, Zan," as he came toward me with outstretched arms and then hugged me and kissed each cheek.
By now, I was becoming a puddle! I wanted to laugh and cry and laugh some more! Both of them looked healthy and appeared clear headed from the effects of the drugs they used to inhale so freely. I asked them if they thought I had ever forgotten any of them. Calin promptly responded, "I knew you never did. Some of the others might have thought you had forgotten, but I knew you wouldn't forget us." Jacomin nodded in agreement.
I began asking about the other boys, wondering where they were. I had been told that most of them were in one prison or another throughout the country. I asked about one of the boys whom I always referred to as the "quite one." Iosef was one of the cave kids I was fondest of. He seemed to be one of the brightest and could easily be saved from life on the streets if given half a chance. "Iosef," I inquired, "What about Iosef?"
"E mort," Calin said in a flat voice. "Iosef is dead?" I could hardly believe my ears. "What happened?"
"He was hit by a train," Calin informed me. "He was drunk on his drugs and he fell in front of a train." He said this as if it were quite a natural way to die for one so young as Iosef. Calin and Iosef were the same age. Calin turned his head from me as we spoke about Iosef's death. I could see how much it hurt him to think about it. He pulled his sleeve up to those big brown eyes brimming afresh with sorrow.
A colonel, the second in command at Gherla Prison was a friend of Adi's and he came in to greet us. Everyone stood at attention when the colonel entered the room. Adi introduced all of us to him and he began speaking with us, wondering what we had to do with these boys. Ole began to explain our situation and the colonel motioned us to sit back down and so we continued our conversation with the boys. Adi later informed us that the guards were duly impressed with the way the colonel had treated us, so they extended our time with the kids an extra 15 minutes or more. Yes, it's good to have friends in high places.
We reminisced about the time I took Jacomin to the dentist that summer to get some teeth pulled. He winced at remembering the pain! Calin brought up our trip out into the countryside and how they had found a lizard and had teased me with it. They both mocked the way I had called Ole for help as they thrust the lizard in my face! They got a great laugh out of that one.
I asked how much longer they would be in prison. Jacomin told me he has one year and six months to go. His sentence was originally five years, but he was getting out early for "good behavior." I asked what he was going to do once he was released. He pointed over his shoulder and said that he would return back to Cluj and to the cave. My heart dropped with that declaration.
I posed the same question to Calin. "Would you be going to school when you get out of prison?" Calin shrugged and said something like he didn't know what he was going to do. I told him, "Calin, you're smart. You've had some schooling. You even know some English. Are you keeping up with that?"
"I've forgotten a lot of English," he told me. "I am understanding some of your words, but I'm not able to speak English any more."
But the more we spoke some of his English words began to come out of him. He seemed pretty pleased with himself as he began remembering more and more English throughout our conversation.
A few times during our magical 45 minutes Calin would appear to try to harden himself and act like he didn't care about his situation, his life, his future. Indeed, Calin's future is bleak. Sixteen years old, no idea how long he'll be incarcerated, he's already been in Gherla Prison for ten months, but no final sentence has been set for his crime. I still can't figure out what he's been charged with. I believe it's for theft, but he swears the other boys framed him to get out of going to prison themselves.
Our time passed much too quickly and before we knew it, the guards were getting up and starting to open the door the boys were to go back through to their incarceration. I stood up to hug them and say, "Good bye." I grabbed Jacomin and Calin and told each of them, "Te iubesc foarte mult," I love you very much. "Si eu," me too, they each responded. They asked me to send pictures and letters. I promised I would. We hugged and cried some more. Then they were lead out of the room.
We went into the waiting area and retrieved our bags and purses and camera. Then we handed the guard our "pungas" plastic bags filled with the goodies we'd brought for them. As the guard searched each and every one of them, he would hand one bag to one of the boys waiting on the other side of a window, and then they were lead out of sight.
Ole told me that of all the cave kids, Calin was the one most attached to me. I never would have thought that was so while I was working with them that summer. Never! Calin seemed the most distant from me. Yet, as I think back, I realize that he was also the one who got my attention by his crazy antics and wild ways. He was generally the first one to flash a bright smile at me. Calin was constantly trying to teach me new Romanian words and phrases. He even brought up my last day with them. He remembered the flowers they had for me, and the song they sang. Ole also told me that Calin would be a good candidate for the Christiana School Dropout Program if he really desired to go to school after he is released from prison. I hope and pray that Calin would want to go to school. I asked him if they had schooling of any kind of prison. He told me that they did, but he was too smart and had already passed the younger ones in their studies. Now he's waiting to get older so he can attend the studies they have for the older prisoners.
This evening, my brain is still processing the events of those short 45 minutes. I'm praying our visit will have a great impact on Calin and Jacomin. I wanted them to know that I've been thinking about them, loving them, and praying for them these past three years I've not been able to return to Romania.
Pray for the cave kids. Pray for Romania.
Cu mult drag. . . (With much love. . .)
Zan
PS. . .The picture I'm attaching is of Csaby, Craig Goodwin, and his kids, Alicia and Jeremy.
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