My son has been in tears and I’ve got my perspective back. Both
were achieved last week by taking my family to join two others to play on the
other side of the EU in a Bulgarian orphanage. The EU, but not as we know it.
No rule of law, so precious little infrastructure capable of receiving EU
funding (let alone implementing directives!) and social security here lasts
for 3 months, after which the options are family and friend’s support, begging
or crime. The children we visited aren’t strictly orphans; these are children
abandoned by their parents due to poverty, neglect or both and handed over to State
institutional care.
Like other eastern bloc countries Bulgaria has been an independent republic for nearly 20 years since the fall of communism. But with the average monthly salary still only €200, these years have seen a huge brain drain with 800,000 choosing to emigrate rather than struggle on against corruption and pitiful pay.
The orphanage we visited was two hours outside of Sophia and situated on a beautiful hillside, this week framed by stunning autumn foliage. Inside, forty-three 3-7 year olds eat, sleep and play. None of them were disabled though several showed signs of mental retardation and a significant number had eye defects. After the first day I walked away happy to have been there, but by the end of day two I was in meltdown. My teenage daughter asked me to save my big cry and resulting red eyes until after dinner. It wasn’t the cockroaches that appeared out of the breadbasket at lunch time in our restaurant. It wasn’t the bare surroundings. It wasn’t the cries of ‘Mama’ that they insisted on calling me. It wasn’t noticing that all clothes were shared not owned. It wasn’t having to peel apart the fingers from behind my neck as it came to unlocking their embrace when our sessions were over. It was the knowledge of their future.
Their future is currently utterly bleak. Most are abandoned
but not disowned, so they can’t be adopted. The spectre of a returning parent
can be a threat to their stability, because whether they are reclaimed or
whether they go on to the next orphanage when they are 7, the same fate of begging,
crime or prostitution is the usual outcome – and at a younger age if the family
request their return. Rejected at birth they are usually rejected at school by
their peers and few make it into work.
At the moment for many of the children, the orphanage is a refuge. And there are some incredibly devoted Bulgarians such as the wonderful lady who organised our trip who work to support the children and their carers. It is she who has built up good and trusted relationships in a country that usually views honesty as foolish. No matter that she only deals with a few of the 1000 orphanages to be found in Bulgaria, it is her passion that means family groups like ours can come and play with the children.
And while the new Bulgarian government elected this summer decides whether it is strong enough to challenge the political inertia, others on the ground have a vision. The immediate priority is supporting the on-site carers who are in loco parentis. Just as we need to raise the status of parenting here, we need to do what we can value their role there. Then it’s providing the money (simply to cover their costs) to support people to be ‘big brothers and sisters’ to these children, mentoring them regularly in the years ahead. The big challenge is finding the Bulgarians willing to be a part of this.
So we have returned home, able to play “What’s the time Mr Wolf?” in Bulgarian and praying for hearts to be turned towards these needy children. My next job is to see if I can organise operations for six of the children with severe squints. But whichever way you look at it, without new vision, these children will perish.
