Fusion with Romania 2006

In August 2006 a group of 16 young people and leaders left the comfort of their homes (at 3 in the morning!), travelled in style (OK, in minibus) to Heathrow airport, and jumped on a plane that took them, within the space of 3 hours, to Bucharest airport, Romania.
For some, it was like returning home; for others, a new and bizarre experience, notable from the minute you stepped off the plane and set foot in the stuffy, air-conditioning-less airport.

We reached Piatra Neamt at 1am in the morning, and were greeted as this unsociable hour by host-families in pajamas, sleepy eyed and heavily accented. Some of us had host families who spoke English – some of us didn't. Those who didn't relied on a form of improvised sign language and Romanian dictionaries to try and communicate. Romanians, however, are a very warm, hospitable people, and despite the language barrier everyone built up good relationships with their adopted host-families.

I'd love to go in-depth on all the things we did, and all the people we encountered whilst out in Romania, but I've not got the room, and I don't want to keep you here all day! Instead I'd like to focus on two things; very similar, and yet very different.

The first is an orphanage that we visited during the first week. It's barely ten minutes away from the Baptist church by car (or minibus!), a large grey building with a yard in front. We had come to run a kid's club with the children, and showed up with guitars, drums, crafts and balls.

Not having done this before in an orphanage, we were unsure at first of what would work. Games, craft and aerobics all came under review, and it was decided to play it by ear on the first day. By the end of the three days, however, all of our uncertainty and nervousness was gone completely. The kids were absolutely lovely, got involved in everything with enthusiasm, and threw themselves into the task of getting to know us. Names such as 'Adalina' and 'Theo,' two of the more up-front children, became well known amongst the team, and when, the following week, the children got brought by minibus to the kid's club at the church, it gave us a wonderful opportunity to get to know them even more as people. By the end of that week, when we at last waved goodbye to them as they drove away in the minibus, it was with tears – tears unlike those we would cry that afternoon at a very different orphanage…

The 'Special School' is an orphanage, as you might guess by the name, for special needs children, whether mentally or physically. We were led inside the building to a small room with two sofas along one wall, and a TV set on a bracket on the wall opposite. Around ten children were lined up on the sofas. It was impossible to hazard a guess at their age, as all of them were tiny, many soiled (and without nappies), and most of them looking straight through us when we walked in.

The first reaction when we walked into the room was to recoil; the smell almost physically knocked us backward. It was a case of almost forcing yourself to sit down and pretend you knew why you were there. We played a few songs on guitars for them, then threw a ball around for a bit. We were there almost an hour. After about ten minutes of that time, you saw a change in the children's faces – they no longer looked straight through us, but focused on us. Some were laughing, enjoying the balls and the music.

It was one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever done, having to walk out of that room again, and leave the children there again, already crying, and holding out their hands to us. Whilst so many things have changed in Romania, such as the first orphanage mentioned, it seems that many haven't. And whilst that remains true, the need for work in Romania is as important as ever.