and Cristi (recently returned to the cave)
Hey Y'all. . .I'm calling this Virtual Romania V 1/2 because I feel like it's more of a continuation of VR V. I started this a couple of days ago and have held on to it because it sounds so depressing, and I kept wondering if I should email a letter like this. I've slept with this letter on my mind for two nights now and I feel it has to go "as is."
I just returned this evening, Thursday, July 24, from visiting the cave kids for the second time. Jacomin, the oldest, has nasty-looking, fresh knife wounds on his left forearm from fending off other kids from stealing the money that he's begged. I promised him that I would bring some medicine for him tomorrow night. His arm was wrapped in a filthy rag to protect the cuts. My friend and one of my translators, Mihai, and I took bananas up to them along with a large loaf of bread. They devoured every smidgen in about 3 minutes. They were also sniffing their glue and were pretty glazed over. Jacomin kept telling them to put their bags of glue away while we were talking with them.
I was so glad that Mihai was able to go with me up to the caves this evening. He was truly touched by what he saw. All of a sudden he's wanting to help find shoes and clothing and food for these kids. This tough, 18 year old kid was nearly moved to tears when Jacomin told of how he was put in an orphanage as a baby, and a man came to take him out when he was no more than 2 years of age. To this day he still does not know if that man is his natural father or stepfather. Anyway, his "father" is a drunkard and one day nearly opened Jacomin's skull with a sickle! He has scars on his face and arms from beatings and knifings and clobbering he received by this man. He's been on the streets for 8 to 9 years. Jacomin is only 18 years old! The rest of the boys range from 12 to 17. Jacomin has a very gentle manner about him, but I don't think many of the other boys want to get into a "tangle" with him. I wanted to take these filthy, ragged, homeless kids and hold each one like a mother would. I wanted to tussle their hair and kiss their cheeks.
Darkness was descending on the hillside and we had to leave. The boys however, would continue begging until after dark then return to their cave. Instead of the comfort of a downy blanket and crisp sheets, they huddle together for body warmth. And in place of a warm glass of milk before drifting off to dreamland, they sniff their glue and soon fall into a stupor and finally to sleep.
This morning, Friday, I was going with Mihai to drop him off at the dentist's office. (Going t o the dentist in Romania is another story entirely. Not a pretty picture!) Anyway, we saw the cave kids, begging at what I consider to be the busiest intersection in all of Cluj. I had rubbing alcohol with me in the car, along with cotton swabs and two HUGE band aids. I had put them in the car this morning so I wouldn't forget them late this afternoon when we were to bring food up to them. Well, I pulled the car over as quickly as I could, Mihai and I got out and I grabbed my "Florence Nightingale" punga (plastic bag) and went over to the kids. Jacomin's knife wounds were not deep, but really dirty! All of them greeted us and I asked Jacomin how his arm was. "Bine," (good) he said very slowly. When I looked into his eyes, my heart sank because I saw the glassy look that comes from sniffing glue! He held his arm out for me to see. I knelt in the dirt in front of him, got out the alcohol and cotton swabs. Mihai translated for me as I told Jacomin that this would sting "putin" (a little bit). "Bine, bine," he said. I watched his dark eyes wince as I applied the alcohol-soaked cotton on his cuts as gently as I could. I cleaned and cleaned his wounds while people were walking by, obviously curious at the strange sight we presented. I dug into the punga and pulled out the gigantic band aids. Jacomin drew his arm back at first, and I explained to him through Mihai, that it would protect the cuts. His eyes registered understanding and he presented his arm to me once again.
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and Cristi (recently returned to the cave) |
When I finished the ministrations, I got up from the dirt and each of the boys gasped as they looked at my dirty knees. Nearly all reached out and started swiping at the dirt on my jeans. I protested and started wiping at my own knees, but for a few seconds there were several dirty, little hands trying to wipe my jeans clean. I wanted to care for them and they wanted to care for me. Isn't that what life is supposed to be about? This is what our Lord shows us in His Word!
At around 5:30 this afternoon, Mihai and I hit the market at the Piata of Mihai Viteazul (Mihai the Brave). This is an open air market where farmers come from the surrounding villages and sell their produce everyday. We found where the fruit was being sold and I purchased 7 oranges, 7 enormous apples, 7 large bananas, 7 individual cartons of orange juice, and nearly a kilo of salami. We then went to a bread store and got one-and-a-half loaves of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven! I also had bubble gum thrown into the bags we had the bread in.
Sure enough, when we arrived at 6:30, the boys were there! Another had been added to their ranks, Marius, the brother of Jacomin. Thirteen year old Marius is as dark as his Gypsy brother, but a ready smile brightens up his face. They are from Hunadoara, a city nearly 3 1/2 hours drive from Cluj. Marius hasn't lived at home for several years, but this was his first day in Cluj. His first day of cave dwelling. His eyes held a promise that there was a quick wit and intelligence behind them. But he too is addicted to sniffing chemicals. Calin showed Mihai the bottle from which they were pouring a substance. On the bottle was the word "Aluminca" or something to that effect. It smelled awful! The boys were inhaling it like it was oxygen!
When they saw us, they put their bags away (temporarily) and greeted us with, "Alo! Alo!" They were curious about the bags we had and were excited about what they saw. We walked to a secluded area with them, out of the view of passersby, and Mihai helped them spread out a ratty blanket upon which food was set out like a banquet. I was shocked at what happened next. A fight broke out among the boys. Mihai and I had to step in and put a stop to it. We had to explain there was enough to go around. That still didn't stop them from putting oranges and bananas down their shirts for later. Most of meat, fruit and bread was gone in a few minutes.
I brought out the alcohol and cotton swabs, and once again and ministered to each one's cuts and mosquito bites. Cristi held up his shirt to show me his burn again and I got out the antibiotic ointment and put it on. Then each one again came up to show me the scrapes and cuts and scabs and wanted me to swab them with the cotton and alcohol which I gladly did. Calin is one of the toughest of the boys. When I put the alcohol on his fresh cuts, I explained that it would sting. "Nu problem!" he said with a wave of his hand and he straightened his back as if to say, "Nothing hurts me." When I applied the cotton with alcohol, he sucked in his breath and closed his eyes and let out an, "oowwwwwww!" I blew on the cuts as I swabbed away. After a few seconds he indicated that it didn't sting anymore and said that I could quit blowing on it.
I think each of the boys wanted their cuts and scrapes tended to because they wanted to be touched. I would imagine that the only "touching" they receive is the physical abuse they receive at the hands of the older boys, or from strangers telling them, "Pleaca! Pleaca!" Leave! Go away! How quickly we forget what a human touch can do for another human being!
We stayed with them a little while longer then left by 7:15. I looked back and they already had the chemical filled bags up to their faces. As Mihai and I climbed the stairs to the top of the hill where the Transylvania Hotel overlooks the whole city of Cluj, we had to stop several times because we were overwhelmed with love and grief for these boys. I cannot imagine what their life must be like! Mihai kept saying, "Something must be done. What can we do for them?" I told him that he's having a change of heart and that his life will never be quite the same after ministering to those kids. "Stiu," (I know) he said quietly.
The world has turned upside down here! Children sleep in sewers and caves! I pray that God will give others a vision for cave kids all over the world!! My friends, Craig and Victoria Goodwin will be project coordinators of St. Nicholas Home for Children about 12 km out of Cluj, and the only reason the home isn't up and running yet is lack of funds! The only reason there is not a home for the cave kids is lack of funds. This is a very poor and needy country. Romania was the "pet" of the world for a while when horrendous pictures were pouring onto American TV screens showing the pitiful orphans languishing in decrepit buildings. They're still here! But the world has shifted its attention to other issues. One of my goals when I return is to raise funds for a safe house for the cave kids. If I get a say-so in the name of the house, I'd call it "House of Promise."
I don't sleep very well at night lately. How can I when I have friends sleeping in caves? It's been rainy and cold most of the summer in Romania. When I get ready to crawl into my snugly, warm bed and pull the fluffy quilt around my shoulders, I think of the boys, living in a cave. They must be cold, but hopefully dry, in their "home." I doubt they remember a mother's kiss, a dad's hug before running off to bed. All they know now is a frigid, smelly cave. It's the only place they have to call "home."
I'm not apologizing for such a depressing account as this letter is. I'm only trying to relate what I've been doing here, what I see and what happens on a daily basis. Please pray for the cave kids in Cluj.
Cu mult drag. . . (with much love)
Zan