After being shaken around all night on the sleeper train, we came to a stop at the Bistrita station at 6:50am. We were glad to be off of the moving train and back on steady ground, however, our attitudes soon changed when we saw that we had been dropped off right in the middle of the tracks! But, we had no time to spare, so we picked up our bags, got off the tracks and walked over to the RCR apartment. Although the group was not staying there, it was far too early to check into the hotel.
At the apartment we ate breakfast and were introduced to the director of the RCR programs. He was endlessly thankful for our help and support. He stayed for a while, explaining all the different programs that had been put in place, and again thanked us for making the trip to volunteer in the programs.
The group went out to an orphanage that doubled as a placement center for disabled children in the late morning. There we met children with severe autism and other disorders. We were greeted by Child D, a girl who, despite her severe autism, walked right over to our group and held our hands. Although the majority of the young children there had severe handicaps, some smaller babies had no apparent disabilities and would soon be placed in foster care.
What I first noticed upon entering was a harsh contrast: it was startling and shocking, and almost scary. The pink-colored room and smiling paintings of cartoons exuded happiness. Even the children seemed happy to be playing with each other in an open playroom. But their situation – abandoned and disabled – was their heartbreaking reality. This contrast made me uncomfortable after my initial feeling of utter shock. These children have no parents, some of them have conditions that were progressively getting worse, yet they were still smiling and laughing. The shocking scene evoked fear: I was afraid to do something that would point out the reality of their situation, and I was afraid to upset them. But even stronger than my emotion of fear was the feeling of hope. It drew the shocked volunteers towards the kids, knowing that we have the ability to make their lives a little bit brighter.
Perhaps my fear was in reaction to Child M. Looking around the small playroom, I noticed two connecting rooms where the toddlers slept. In a large crib was a dark-haired boy was rocking back and forth, a common result of neglect as a baby. I tried not to stare. When I looked back, he was out of the crib, walking on tip-toes very hesitantly. He didn’t seem to have full control of his movements and his steps were shaky. What kept me watching was his stare, it was disturbing and it made me somewhat afraid. He slowly made his way out into the big playroom and the nurses introduced him. Child M is blind and is severely mentally handicapped. He still sleeps in a crib even though he is 9 years old and he was not going to come to the park with us.
Although we had a large volunteer group, like the day before, not all of the children were allowed to come and play with us. We were going to a park down the street with children whose ages ranged from 2 to about 9, but before we left we were introduced to a girl who was lying, unmoving, on a mattress. Child K was young, and has cerebral palsy as well as microcephalus that is progressively getting worse. It was hard to imagine anything worse than the situation she was in at that moment. She was entirely still, except for her blinking eyes. Her legs were knotted and twisted over each other; it was painful to look at.
I eagerly jumped at the chance to push a stroller with a young boy strapped in, while their other stroller was being manned by Sammy. We hadn’t gone far when the back, left wheel on my stroller fell off. So we were down to one, functional stroller with 8 toddlers. The girl Sammy was pushing in the stroller was also blind, with eyes that twitched and blinked and moved in all directions sporadically – she also had trouble controlling her movements. But when we got to the park, Sammy unstrapped her from the stroller, and holding her hands, led her around the park. The girl was ecstatic to freely move around, stomping her feet as she went and picking up speed.
The park was a happy place for all of the children, but we could not help but notice that our children stood out from the rest. Not only were many of them disabled, but their clothes set them apart from the other children. They wore pants that were not long enough, and boys wore pink shirts with flower designs. The placement center did not have as many clothes as the hospital we visited the day before, so the children were dressed in whatever fit.
It’s hard to think that the kids notice others staring. You wonder how they feel when they see other children at the park with their parents, without a handicap. And then you think about times when you’ve seen someone with a disability, and the way you reacted to it.
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