In Closing

           On Sunday, James, Valeru, Sandu (a friend of Valeru's) and I went to a football (soccer) match. It was Zimbra (Chisinau's team) vs. Dacia (another local team). James and I arrived an hour early and were surprised at the scarcity of spectators. We were even more surprised when a bus pulled up and around 100 police offices, some wearing full combat gear, got off and walked into the stadium. I knew football matches could get rough, but I didn't realize helmets and shields were necessary. When we finally enter, we saw that the stadium that could seat 10,000 was 30% full, including three separate cheering sections. It wasn't clear who they were cheering for because we weren't sure if they were saying "Yay Zimbra!" or "Zimbra sucks!" We later figured out two of the cheering sections were for Zimbra and one was for Dacia. I'm not sure why the two for Zimbra didn't combine forces; they were singing the exact same songs over top one another. The match was 2-1 Zimbra and wasn't incredibly exciting. No need for the police except for one point when someone tried to hang a banner from the bleachers and were halted. We didn't have time to read what it said and out of the 5 guys who were struggling with the police only one was escorted out.
        The rest of the week was spent at the orphanage except for Wednesday when James and I went to the boys institution (called the Home for Disabled Boys in Romanian but it is far from anything resembling a home). Some of the boys (and I use that word lightly because most of the 'boys' we saw were over 18) made crafts and James wanted to buy some to see if he could sell the crafts in England. I also bought some crafts but I wondered how much of the money actually got back to the boys and if they do get it, do they have any opportunity to spend it. When I went before, I handed the money directly to the crafter himself. This time, we perused items in a separate room and handed over the money to the Vice Director who said she was giving us discounts. This worried me.
         When we were driving up to the institution, we saw boys out in the yard, playing on seesaws and swings or sitting in groups. I tried to imagine life within the walls of the institution. They had comradeship for the most part, a nice yard, a pool (albeit only a quarter full of greenish water), and, I hoped, enough to eat. However, to me, this wasn't enough. If the oldest 'boy' at the home is 30, and they spend the rest of their lives there, they must not live very long lives.
        The Vice Director had specific rooms picked out to show us. They were the same as last time. Other volunteers, after persistently asking to see other rooms, had been shown two rooms that were much starker than the happy, singing groups we visited. In the rooms they visited, the boys were either desperate for attention or sitting numbly in a chair rocking back and forth.
        While we were waiting for the Vice Director, a group of 15 or so Scottish med. students piled out of her office. They were volunteering as part of a program at their University. About 30 students come over a 3 month period, staying two weeks at a time. We didn't get to ask much about their opinion of the institution but we saw them around quite a bit, playing with the boys.
         The first room the Vice Director took us to had a group of boys who were sitting together singing Moldovan songs. The Vice Director, in front of the boys, explained to us that their brains worked fine but their bodies were disabled. Most of them had what was probably pretty mild forms of Cerebal Palsy or Scoliosis. If they had been born in America or the UK, they would be part of society-going to school, working, getting married, etc. But in Moldova, they will spend the rest of their lives in this institution.
          The next group we visited wree less ambulatory. They were in wheel chairs or on beds. One boy was laying twisted on a bed. He was 25 years old and, because their was no way to lift him off the bed, he never moved from the position he was in. He couldn't speak to us but he eagerly answered questions from the Vice Director. My friend's organization Bettlyn Moldovan Relief is working hard to fundraise money for lifts and hoists for the institution.
       In another group, an accordion player was entertaining the boys who were singing along. They were lined up outside. As I looked around the group, I realized few were wearing shoes that fit. In the past, I had spoken to a woman who had worked for an organization that helped boys from this institution get out on their own. The organization (Keystone Human Services) sets up a house for boys from the institution. They provide the boys with aides, life skills lessons, housing, etc. The woman I had spoken to mentioned that when the boys first came to live in the house they were so excited to have their own underwear. At the institution, all of the clothing is kept together. No one owns anything for themselves. Not even underwear.
          Once again, my experience at the institution left me feeling conflicted. It was painful to see the plight of the boys. Most of them had spent their entire lives in orphanages and institutions. They didn't know what it was like to have a family, own their own things, be around girls who weren't caregivers, etc. And now we know that two of the boys at my orphanage will be headed to this institution in September. These two boys are so sweet, smiley, and loving. It breaks my heart to think of what will happen to them when they get to the institution. What is worse, they know they are going. They beg the volunteers to take them home. Even at 6 years old, they know that once they move to the institution their life will get worse.
        I have been in Moldova for one week shy of three months. I chose that amount of time, hoping that giving my time to the children will make a difference. However, as I spent more time around the children I was with last year, I know it is not enough. The children I was with last year are almost two years old. None of them are speaking. They babble and some seem to understand what I say when I speak in Romanian, but most don't. There is an 18 month old little girl in the house where I am staying and when I compare her progress to theirs it is startling. When I go to their group every day, they are all sitting quietly on a rug on the ground. They are 2 year old toddlers who should be running, playing, digging, exploring, etc. But they sit. Each, with a cheap plastic toy in hand, clinging to it desperately and crying inconsolably when another child snatches it out of his or her hand. These are the children I rocked in my arms. I sang to and kissed. For two months straight, I held these children. But it wasn't enough. And it will never be enough. Until we find an alternative to orphanages, children around the world will be cheated out of their childhood. For more information on the detrimental effects of orphanages on children, scroll to the bottom to read an excerpt from my paper on social orphans in Moldova.
       In closing, this summer has been a completely different experience from last summer. I am viewing things with new eyes. I've seen a lot of pain, but I have also seen a lot of hope. Each year, around 100 volunteers come to Moldova to work at the orphanage. Many come with visions on how to make their time and energy go further. It is my hope that, through the hard work of these volunteers, along with our hosts and other members of Service for Peace, we will make a difference in the lives of children growing up in orphanages. They will be held and kissed and hugged and entertained. And, most importantly, they will feel loved, even if it will be for the briefest of moments.

"The evidence about the detriment of institutionalized care on children's physical, psychological, biological, and emotional development is pervasive. According to Bilson and Cox, "Recent research in Romanian orphanages into the brain development of children aged less than 4 years shows structural changes that may explain the cognitive, socio-emotional, and behavioral difficulties that are observed in many children from such institutional backgrounds” (p. 38).  What is more, according to Williamson and Greenberg, in a 2004 study, 32 European countries were surveyed and nine countries had in-depth studies about institutionalization of children. The results showed that, due to the “risk of harm in terms of attachment disorder, developmental delay and neural atrophy in the developing brain," the researchers "reached the conclusion that… NO child under three years should be placed in a residential care institution without a parent/primary caregiver,” (p. 6). By definition orphanages and institutions will continue to fail in providing children with one essential tool for brain, emotion, and physical development- a primary caregiver.

               What is more, institutionalization is particularly harmful for infants. Children under the age of 3 represent a substantial percentage of the children living in orphanages in Eastern Europe (Childcare System Reform, 2009, p.4). Williamson and Greenberg write, "The first year of life is absolutely crucial for normal development, and the first six months of age is even more important than the second" (p.10). They continue by saying, "A particular shortcoming of institutional care is that young children typically do not experience the continuity of care that they need to form a lasting attachment with an adult caregiver" (p.5). Orphanages and institutions are unable to provide children with a primary caregiver, and are, therefore, harming children in significant and life-long ways.

One of the most harmful side-effects for infants growing up in orphanages is attachment disorder. As Kevin Brown explains it in his report on the risk of institutionalized care for children, attachment disorder is caused when there is no primary caregiver for a child to form a bond with. Attachment theory was first developed by John Bowlby in the 1960s. Attachment theory holds that without the ability to form an attachment to a primary caregiver, children will not be able to develop normally. Brown writes, "The human infant is genetically predisposed to interact with others, but for this process to result in optimal brain development the infant needs to interact with a caregiver who will handle, talk and respond to them in a sensitive and consistent way, repeatedly introducing new stimuli appropriate to their stage of development" (p.14). Therefore, without the ability to form attachment, the brain cannot physically develop. Brown writes, without attachment there is "no process to guide synaptic connections and the development of neural pathways. This leads to the pruning of synapses in those areas of the brain that are under-stimulated" (p.14). This directly affects the front and temporal lobes of the brain which control social interaction, emotions, and language (p.14-15). Therefore, infants growing up in orphanages actually suffer brain damage due to the detrimental effects of not attaching to a primary caregiver.

           Brain damage is not the only harmful effect of growing up in an orphanage. Physically, the damage of living in an orphanage manifests as weight, height, and head circumference below the norm; hearing and vision problems; motor skill delays; head banging and rocking for comfort; poor health; physical and learning disabilities; etc. (p.10). Social behaviors found in children growing up in orphanages include: littler interaction with other children, no understanding of interactive play, sharing difficulties, aggression toward other children, inability to form attachments later in life, over-friendliness toward other children, etc. These behaviors are particularly significant in children under three who spent at least 6 months of their life in an orphanage (p. 12).

           A study comparing the intelligence of children who have grown up in orphanages, been placed with foster families, or been reunified with their families shows the stark realities of the deprivation children growing up in orphanages suffer. According to the study, children living in orphanages scored dramatically lower on IQ test than children living with their biological families or being fostered. The mean score of children living in the orphanage was 77, which would be in the 'borderline mental retardation' classification. This was compared with children growing up in their biological families, who scored 103 on average. Children who had previously spent time in an orphanage but had been living with a foster family for the past 42 months scored an 86. Children who had been removed from the orphanage to live with a foster family before the age of 18 months scored a 94, compared to those who had been removed after 24 months, who scored n 80 (p. 14). The results of these IQ test manifest physically in delay in language acquisition, learning disabilities, and poor cognitive performances on tests (p. 14). This deprivation of brain development and cognitive skills will have lifelong effects on children growing up in orphanages.

        Bragi Gudbrandsson writes, "Social orphan-hood may leave the most harmful scars in the mental life of a child" (p.5). These scars are not only developmental, Gudbrandsson writes, growing up in an orphanage, "can directly cause anxiety and person uncertainty, passivity, aggressiveness, and inclination to antisocial behaviour" (p.5). What is more, Gudbrandsoon mentions statistics from Russia showing that, "every fifth orphan who leaves an orphanage develops a criminal career, every seventh becomes a prostitute and ten percent of previous orphans commit suicide" (p.5). Clearly life after leaving the orphanage does not get any better. According to Bilson and Cox, children who grow up in institutions have higher rates of unemployment, teenage pregnancy, incarceration, poverty, homelessness, and drug abuse (p. 38). For many girls in Moldova, there are little options after leaving institutionalized care at the age of 16. Many of these girls are vulnerable to sex trafficking (Talbot, 2010, p.9). Williamson and Greenberg, also mention research from Russia showing, "one in three children who leaves residential care becomes homeless, one in five ends up with a criminal record and up to one in 10 commits suicide" (p.6) Children growing up in orphanages have been deprived of the necessary mental, physical, and emotional development to enable them to manipulate the world as an adult."

References

Bess, Amy, Lopez, Luisa & Tomaszewski, Evelyn. (March 14, 2011). Investing in those who

care for children: Social welfare workforce strengthening conference. NASW.

Bilson, Andy & Cox, Pat. (2007). Caring about poverty. Journal of Children and Poverty, 13:1,

37-55.

Brown, Kevin. (2009). The risk of harm to young children in institutionalized care. Better Care

Network.

Childcare System Reform. (November 2009). Analysis of the progress, remaining challenges and

trends in Child Care System Reform: Armenia, Belarus, Georgia, Moldova and Ukraine.

Chindea, Alin, Majkowska-Tomkin, Magdalena, Mattila, Heikki, & Pastor, Isabel. (October

2008). Migration in Moldova: A country profile. International Organization for

Migration: Switzerland.

Gudbrandsson, Bragi. (May 19, 2004). Children in institutions: Prevention and alternative care.

Working Group on Children at Risk and in Care.

Guzun, Aurelia. UNICEF CEE/CIS (2005). MOLDOVA: Hope for Marina: A ‘social’ orphan.

http://www.unicef.org/ceecis/reallives_3407.html

IOM. (March 2012). Frequently asked questions- Moldova, migration, trafficking. IOM

Moldova: Chisinau, Moldova

Moldoveanu, Elena. (May 31, 2009). Efforts to place orphans with families meets surprising

resistance in Moldova. Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty.

http://www.rferl.mobi/a/1743564/full.html

Talbot, Elizabeth Peffer. (November 2010). The contributions of christians to the human

trafficking movement. North American Association of Christians in Social Work.

TransMonee. (2005). Data, indicators and features on the situation of children in CEE/CIS and

Baltic States.

Williamson, John & Greenberg, Aaron. (September 2010). Families, not orphanages. Better Care

Network.

UN. (February 24, 2010). UN guidelines for the alternative care of children.

UNICEF. (2010). UNICEF Annual Report for Moldova.

World Health Organization (WHO). (2012). Republic of Moldova.

http://www.euro.who.int/en/where-we-work/member-states/republic-of-moldova/facts-and-figures

Moldovan Fortress, Chinese Food, and Irish beer

On Sunday, Victoria and I invited ourselves on a bus trip to Soroca, an old fortress. The English Resource Center in Chisinau planned a trip for Moldovan English teachers and somehow I sneaked into the group. It was a two hour bus ride to Soroca but luckily almost everyone spoke English so I got to chat with some nice people. We were told the tour of the fortress would be in English but that turned out to be false so, after patiently waiting and pretending like I understood what the guide was saying, I found a moment to sneak off and do some exploring on my own. Soroca was built by Stephan the Great in 1499 to protect Moldova from the Turk invaders. It is on the border of Moldovan and Ukraine and I could see Ukraine from across the river.

After the fortress, we went to a monastery deep in the hills (we had to ask for directions many times). We had some lunch in the forest near the monastery and then wandered down to a spring where many people were collecting water. I was told it was the best water in the world and filled my water bottle. It was nice because the day was excruciatingly hot and the spring water was very cold.

Monastery

Spring water

As we were making our way to our next stop (I was told we were going to visit a candle, I thought maybe some kind of eternal flame but I was told, no it is a candle), we passed by a traditional Moldovan wedding. The bride and groom were in a horse carriage and their friends and family were following behind in traditional Moldovan clothing, linking hands and dancing, with a band taking up the rear.

When we arrived at the entrance to the candle I was not a happy camper. The candle was a large rock structure set on top of a hill, 365 steps up. I am not a fan of stairs and was not eager to climb 365 of them to see a candle. However, after about 10 very winded stops and my entire bottle of spring water, I made it. At the base of the actual candle was a scenic lookout and, once again, we could see Ukraine. There was also a bride and groom taking photos.

Back at the bottom of the staircase I was feeling pretty proud of myself for managing to climb 365 stairs, when I heard we were now heading to check out a cave. My legs were jello and I knew I wouldn't be able to make another climb but I followed everyone to the base of the hill where the cave was situated. I was not the only person to stay behind. One of the people in the group tried to persuade me to try to climb but I told him he'd have to carry me. After watching the ones who did try to climb the hill slip and slide on the very steep slope (none of us had brought proper climbing shoes) I knew I had made the right choice.

Hill to the cave

Finally we were on our way home after a very fun and exhausting day.

My week continued in the usual fashion, cuddling babies and teaching English. In the afternoons, instead of going back to the baby group, I go to group one where all of the children I was with last summer are now. It's hard to see them because they are so starved for cuddles and attention. Every day, their caregivers take them out, but they place them on a blanket on the curb of a road on a hill and don't let them move. Ten two-year-olds who can't move off a mat. I've been taking two children at a time and we swing, jump on the trampoline, ride bikes, etc. I try to get back half an hour early to sing songs and play with the others.
On Thursday, I was outside with the baby group when a kids train drove into the orphanage compound. We watched as the train made loop after loop, picking up kids. My group was too young to ride the train but I know the other children loved it. There was a very frightening looking Mickey and Minnie Mouse hanging on the the train, waving and dancing. The train stayed a couple of hours and then took off.
As one of the volunteers (Aisling) and I were heading to the door on our way out, we noticed that the other volunteer (James) was not waiting for us where he usually was. He was at the top of the steps and yelled down to us, "I got us a ride into town!" We were very confused but he ushered us to a car that was waiting for us and we all got in. Two young women were in the car (Diana and Elena). They both spoke English and were very friendly and nice. Diana had lived in New Jersey for a couple of years. They were the ones who had paid the train to come visit the orphanage. They said the gave donations to the orphanage every year. One year they had brought clowns in and frightened the children. They had both been working at a hotel in Chisinau until it closed down recently. I asked what they were going to do now, and neither seemed too worried about being unemployed. They asked us what our plans were for the evening, and we said we were going to go out to eat and grab a drink. Diana said she'd call us in the evening.
After the afternoon session at the orphanage, we headed back to the flat to get ready to go. We were searching for a good chinese restaurant and found a couple online but weren't sure how to get there. Diana called and gave us directions to the "best chinese restaurant in Chisinau". We all agreed it was the best chinese food we had ever had...in Moldova. The restaurant was called the Fifth Element and was a very nice place. Diana met us there. We told her our plans after dinner were to go to a Irish pub we had found online. She said she'd drive us. After circling a block and getting us thoroughly lost, Diana called the manager of the pub who walked three blocks to meet us and take us back to the pub. It was a very nice pub and James was able to have his Guinness. However, we arrived at 10 and the pub closed at 11. The waiter at the pub spoke excellent English and called us a cab which we directed to first drop Bethan off at the flat (and wait for us as James ran in for our bags) and then take us to the village. It was a fun night but rough walking up early to go to the orphanage the following morning.

I’m feeling much better and have had an exciting week. On Sunday I went to a second hand market. It was enormous and secreted away beyond the railroad tracks. I had to cross over a large overpass to get to it. Clothing is shipped from the UK and Europe and then given to be to sell here. I bought a couple tops for $4 ea.

I also visited the longest cemetery in Europe which is just up the road from my house. Over 200,000 people are buried in the cemetery and it is half a mile long. I like the cemeteries here because all of the gravestones have pictures on them. They also have table and benches on top of a lot of the gravestones so that families can have a picnic there on special days.

As I was walking through central park the other day, a very stern looking police officer was standing over a tiny boy who the police officer had just forced out of the fountain. I had seen the little boy in the park often. He was part of a Roma family who often came up to us asking for money. For a lot of Roma, asking for money is a way of life in Moldova and around Europe.

I also wanted to spend some time talking about the caregivers at the orphanage. I’m now able to carry on simple conversations with them. I was talking to a caregiver named Lilia the other day. She said she lives in a village far from the orphanage and has two grown children. She had been working at the orphanage for four years. When I asked her if it was okay, she said yes but also difficult. She works 12 hour shifts every other day, which is what most of the caregivers do. They take turns working 24 hour shifts. One caregiver and one nurse must spend the night with the children. They sleep in the rooms with the children. I didn’t ask her how much she gets paid, but I know it is very little. The caregivers working in my group are very nice and love on the babies when they can. Despite this, the babies spend most of their time on their backs in cots or cribs. I bring the caregivers cookies once in a while, along with diapers for the children. If the caregivers are happy they’ll pass it on to the kids. The caregivers have pretty difficult lives and if I can make it a little easier by letting them know I appreciate the hard work they do all the better. In my room, there are now 19 babies for 4 caregivers. Feeding time is a madhouse and we’re scrambling to pick up a crying child to feed. Three new babies came this week, all of them born premature and abandoned at the hospital.
Ana is five months old and is the size of a newborn.

Vlad is also five months old, a bit bigger but his body is very rigid. He clearer hasn’t been held very much because he gets very stiff when I pick him up, but relaxes when I put him back down.

I am now down to 2 weeks here. Time has gone so fast!

Monasteries and Medication

It all started with a bad fall. On Friday, I fell as I was leaving a room after placing a baby in a crib. I tripped over the doorframe and landed really hard on my bad leg. For those of you who don't know, my bad leg is my right leg which has been swollen since I was 18. It's a condition call lymphedema-due to the radiation treatment I received as a baby the lymph nodes in my right leg don't work as well as the should. Some of the protein that the lymph should be picking up get left behind and absorbed into the tissue which leads to the swelling. Luckily, I caught it early on and my swelling is fairly minimal.  I do wear a waist high compression stocking every day to keep the swelling manageable, but the condition doesn't have a huge impact on my life. However, if a leg with lymphedema gets injuries, due to the lymph systems' role throughout the body, severe conditions can occur.
         After I fell, I got myself up and checked out the damage. Other than a sore knee, I seemed to be okay. I carried on with my day, but by the time I got home my knee was arching. I put an ice pack on it and went to bed, partially scared about what could happen next. The next morning everything seemed to be fine. My knee ached a little, but not nearly as much as it should have. We had planned to spend the day in town but the other volunteers weren't feeling well, so we just hung out at home, playing games and chatting. I helped my host clean the house and felt pretty energized. That evening my throat began to hurt a little, but I didn't think too much of it. I was excited about our plans for the next day. We were going to go to a village to bring watermelon to poor families, some of whom I was going to interview for my research. We were also going to visit some famous monasteries and have a picnic in the forest. I was excited to do the interviews. I had already done two and was only planning on doing six total. We had plans to do four or five in the village and I was excited to finish the interviews in order to look back on them and see if I needed anything else for my research.   
        In the middle of the night, in a sleepy daze, I noticed I was freezing and part of my mind thought, "this isn't good". In the morning my throat was killing me, I had a horrible headache, and I knew I was not in a good condition. I also knew I needed to do these interviews. I just need to get through this, I thought and pushed myself to get ready. I mentioned I wasn't feeling well to the others but tried to force myself to get my act together. We first stopped at a monastery, and I felt okay wandering around. I had taken some dayquil and hoped that would help. I rested my eyes as we drove to the village. We stopped at a house and I interviewed the mother. I had a list of questions already written out and followed them. Perhaps, if I had been feeling better I would've been able to ask her more questions but I felt comfortable with what I did. The second house was the same but this time I tripped on my way up the stairs and I really knew I was in trouble. I've gotten pneumonia many times in my life. Although it seems I have a pretty good immune system against viruses and rarely get colds, bacterial infections are another matter. My lymphedema directly effects my immune system and so I think I am less able to fight off bacterial infections. Therefore, when I get sick, I go big. One time, in undergrad, when I was really sick with pneumonia, I tripped while walking to class and for some reason I knew I needed to see a doctor. I trip easily anyway, but when I trip while sick it feels as if the world is falling away from me and I know something is not right in my head.
           At the second house, I fought hard to stay cognizant of the interview. Once again, I followed the questions. After we left, I knew we had two or three more to do and just kept fighting to keep it together. My hosts asked if I would like to continue and I said yes but then the others said they were hungry and because they had to wait for me during my interviews we decided to just drop off some food for some families and then eat lunch. My host told me she knew of other people to interview and we didn't need to get it all done in one day. At that I let myself relax. I curled up in a ball and closed my eyes.
             We continued to another monastery to eat lunch. I got out because I had to go to the bathroom but after trying to eat a piece of bread, I went back to the car and laid down. I stayed that way for the rest of the day. After the monastery we headed back to my host's mom's house to eat dinner and pick up the kids. I laid on her couch but was able to manage some soup and felt a bit better. When we got home I got into bed and fell asleep. In the middle of the night I woke up to an extremely swollen throat and a very high temperature. I knew I needed to see a doctor. I waited until the morning and asked my host to call a doctor. In Moldova, you can call an ambulance and a nurse will come to your house to check on you. However, my host suggested actually going to the doctor instead. So I waited until they were ready to take me. At the doctor I was ushered into a room where a nurse checked my vitals. She handed me a thermometer and I instinctively started to put in my mouth. No, she said, and for a minute my heart stopped. Then she gestured to my armpit. I felt a little bit better knowing the instrument that had just touched my tongue had been in other people's armpits and not somewhere worse, but not by much. However, I was too sick to care much about it either way. I had a temperature of 100.5 (38). The nurse then took us to another room to wait for the doctor. The doctor diagnosed me with angina. Luckily for me, angina is not the same in Moldova as it is in America. When I first arrived to Moldova, my host told me her 1 1/2 year old daughter had angina. I was a bit startled until she mentioned her throat hurt and then I thought, in America angina is the constriction of the arteries in the heart, in Moldova it must be the constriction of the throat. When I was diagnosed with angina, I knew it must be some kind of throat infection. My host suggested that I got angina from drinking cold water on a hot day. Since I live in Florida and I drink ice cold water every day of my life, I doubt this is how I got the infection. It did come on rather quickly but my bet is I picked up the bacteria from the orphanage somehow (I'm usually covered in snot and vomit) and maybe the damage to my leg left me susceptable to an infection. The doctor wrote out a bunch of prescriptions and we stopped by the pharmacy on the way out. I had given my host 200 lei ($20) which was all the lei I had left (I needed to exchange more) and I think, I was bit out of it to pay close attention, the total doctor bill and medication came to around $40. When we got home, I went straight to bed and have moved little since.     
           Yesterday I woke up and my throat was still killing me, this time with the added fun of a swollen and distended uvula. I never thought I'd be able to say that my uvula was touching my angina but it felt like my throat was swollen, on fire, and had something caught in it. I kept on my regiment of medications which included: aspirin, anit-biotics, a throat spray, and a gargling solution. By mid-day yesterday I woke up from a nap and my throat felt numb, a relief from the pain I had been feeling the past three days. I could still feel my uvula but at least I could swallow again. Today I am feeling much better. I still have a headache and there is a lot of drainage in my throat, but I my brain is beginning to work again and I am able to eat solid food. For a while I thought I might have tonsillitis and wondered if I'd lose my tonsils to Moldova. My appendix is in Korea and it wouldn't surprise me if I need to undergo major surgery in every country I visit. Luckily, I am on the mend. I have three and a half weeks left in Moldova and, since this week will be spent mostly in bed, I have a lot to do in a little time.

"I will come at the hour of one and thirty"

This week new volunteers arrived-six of them! One is staying with me in the village while the rest stay in the flat (sorry, my American English is being taken over by British English). The one that is staying with me is here for a month. On Sunday night, around midnight, we will be joined by one more volunteer staying with us in the village for two weeks. Two of the volunteers who were staying in the flat only stayed for a week, which is definitely not enough time. Two weeks isn't even enough. It is so little time to spend with the children.

This week was also the last week of my online class and, since I finished my homework early, I was able to spend a lot more time at the orphanage. It has been so hot here, that we take the children outside every day, which seems like a strange thing to say but since the rooms are so hot, and they don't believe in opening windows, it is much cooler outside. There are two large cribs sitting in the shade and we lay the children in them. One of the volunteers is working with me in my group and it is nice to have a companion to speak English to, although I am working on my Romanian.

My day speaking Romanian usually goes like this:

I enter the room and say "Good day'' in Romanian, even though I should be saying 'Good morning' but can never remember how to say it. The children are usually being fed, and in order to ask if a child has been fed yet or not, I'm pretty sure I say, "Anton I eat?" or "Anton I eat already?" because I'm not sure how to say he or she eats and definitely has\ve no clue how to use the past tense. I then feed the baby and say 'Na' (here) when I want to get the baby's attention to take a bite. When the baby is eating well I say "Bravo/Brava" (Good boy/girl). If I need a bib for a baby, I can ask for it (sounds like shortz). I also can warn the caregivers when a child has peed/pooped/vomited. And I can say "What Anton?" when a baby cries or makes a loud noise.
After feeding the children, I say "Anton outside?" "Yes" answer the caregivers and then we wrap the babies up in multiple layers as if we are living in Siberia, despite the 70-80 (20-25 Celsius) degree weather. I sometimes say "stroller" and they say "yes". Most of the time we take all the children outside and lay them in large cribs sitting in the shade. Outside is such a relief from the stiffing heat inside since the caregivers believe that any draft coming from a window will kill the children. We play outside and I can say brief sentences to the caregivers using the following words or phrases:
 I am, I have, You have, How much, I come, I need, I forget, I like, here (baby and normal versions), rain, I make (which in Romanian sounds like the f-word), I speak, in my arms, kiss, booboo (hurt), why, airplane, car, apricot (apricot), cherry, juice, pretty, don't do that, stop, finished, yuk, pretty, hot, cold, little, big, stand, walk, and Let's come to Jacy or Let's come to sister, which is what the boys call me, etc.
 Around noon, we head back in and feed the infants their bottles. To ask whether I should put a baby in their crib to sleep, I'm pretty sure I ask "Anton I sleep?"  When all the children are in bed for their afternoon nap, I get ready to go to lunch and say, "I come at the hour of one and thirty." I know there is an easier way to say this but for some reason I remember it this way.
After lunch, I return and again say "Good day" which I think is appropriate now. Once again, I ask if I can eat a child and then feed them. Sometimes we go back outside, and sometimes we just play inside. At the end of the day, I tell the caregivers "Tomorrow" or, on a Friday, "Monday." They are very excited whenever I speak Romanian and often speak to me. I repeat their words back the them and usually give them blank stares because I don't understand. They keep asking and eventually I say yes to be agreeable.     
 A couple of weeks ago, I was riding on the van-bus (a van that is used to bus people around) and noticed the door had a sign on it that said "Nu trintiti USA". I wondered what it meant. Were Americans not allowed to ride on the bus? I know 'Nu' means 'no' or 'not' so it could also mean something like "Don't _______ USA." I kept meaning to ask my hosts what it meant and kept forgetting. Finally I asked  and my host laughed uproariously at me. It actually means "Don't slam the door" Usa is door. So now I know how to say that too! I actually said it to one of the boys at my house the other day!

Main street of my village

My street

One of the many crucifixes in my village

The school where I teach ESL

Village Day

On Sunday, the village I live in celebrated 265 years. The entire village came down to a park in the village center to celebrate.

There was music, dancing, volleyball, soccer, etc. There was also 5 nights of music, lasting until 5AM. I did not get a lot of sleep.

 The most interesting event was the wrestling. Balancing on a edge just below a wall that surrounded the mat, I clung to the wall along with a couple hundred other people. We were shoulder to shoulder and could barely move. The first to wrestle were middle school boys. They were shirtless with karate belts tied around their waists. The object was to get the other opponent on his back on the mat. Not an easy feat. The boys grabbed at each other's belts, trying to throw the other to the ground. As I was watching the wrestling, I looked around at the crowd and noticed a man holding a rooster. My heart leaped in fear as I thought, "Are they going to have cock-fighting too?" Turns out the winner of the wrestling tournament gets a rooster. (Sigh of relief).

After the winner of the tournament was declared, there was a mad scramble to collect on the bets. As all the adults around the mat ran to a desk, the children got up to jump on the mat. In the midst of this chaos, I noticed a man taking off his pants. At first I thought he was the next wrestler, but when I noticed he was wearing underwear under his pants and not wrestling shorts, I grew worried. I watched as the now pantsless man ran to the mat and began jumping with the children. He tried to grab their hands and bounce with them. The parents watched at laughed. Soon the police arrived and the man was, not without resistance, escorted off the mat.

Soon the adult wrestling began. I didn't stay to watch the finish but I was told the winner received a ram.

We have two more babies in our group, which makes our total up to 16. It is a mad scramble getting everyone fed in the morning. At it is blazing hot. Since they are afraid of children catching a cold from a draft coming through a window, the keep them shut at all times. There is also, obviously, no air conditioning or any other way to cool the room. As soon as I arrive in the morning, the caregivers ask me to start taking children outside. There are two large cribs outside and a lot of strollers that we place the children in. There is a nice breeze and we all can cool down.
The two new babies are Nicoleta and Sabrina. I'm not sure how old Nicoleta is but if I were to venture a guess I would say around 1 month. She has dark hair and is starting to get dark eyes. She is still a little jaundice, so when we were outside yesterday I held her in the sun for little while. At first I thought I would get yelled at for this, but then I noticed the nurse positioning the strollers so that the children were in the sun. Their faces were shaded by the stroller top but their legs and arms were in the sun.
 Sabrina is around 6 months old. She has very dark hair and dark eyes. She has been without a diaper this entire time. I wrapped some sheets around her in order to pick her up, but she wet through them so quickly I didn't get to hold her for long. That is another issue with not having enough diapers. No one wants to hold the diaperless babies. I rocked two babies (separately) to sleep in my arms yesterday, which felt very good. I've also notice all the babies have this little red bumps all over them. I've asked what they are and was told alternately bug bites and allergies. I now wonder if they are some form of a heat rash.

While I was at the orphanage on Thursday, a small group of people entered our room and it was clear they were on some kind of tour. One of the women in the group came over to look at the babies by me and I heard her speaking English. I started to speak to her. She was from Italy and she and her husband and a friend were visiting the orphanage because they donate a lot of clothing to the orphanage. She was very sweet and we chatted for a while about Moldova.

It is getting hotter here but there is usually a nice breeze to cool me off. We are eating fresh apricots and cherries from the garden. Two more volunteers are coming tomorrow. One will stay with me in the village and one will stay in the flat. We were supposed to have two volunteers last week but they backed out at the last minute. Their fathers kept calling Victoria asking her strange questions like, "I noticed there is a street named Vitalie in Chisinau, but there is also one named that in another city..." I think the girls were very young and the fathers were over protective. We might have been better off without them because it might have meant a lot of babysitting.

Maria

This week two new babies joined our group, both named Katya, and both 3 months old. They also both have brown hair and brown eyes. One is a little more alert than the other but for the most part they are pretty similar. We also have a new baby but she has moved to us from Group 11, one of the groups for children with disabilities. They are doing some refurbishment in their classroom, so all of their children have been dispersed to various groups. Maria is 3 years old and has beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair. Her legs are under-developed and that is why I think she is in our group, she can't move, so we need to treat her like an infant. It is pretty clear, however, that Maria is often in a lot of pain and, as far as I can tell, nothing is being done to manage the pain. I rub her back, which has ribs sticking out at odd angles, when I can. She spends most of the day laying on her back. I try to put her on a soft bed, but the caregivers often lay her in the hard playpen. She cries in either one. When she is in the hard playpen, I put a large stuffed dog in there with her for her to lie on, but it doesn't seem to help. She likes being picked up, but even then she seems in pain. She can pull herself up onto her arms, but isn't able to crawl. She moves about by rolling. I feel like she needs more stimulation. She is often lying in a crib staring up at the ceiling. The babies lie in a crib that has this thing hanging down with lots of rattles and toys attached. We can move it and they all stare up at the noise and the bright colors. But Maria is too big for the baby crib. I think that Maria, as a three year old, would need more stimulation than the babies, anyway. She would need toys that lit up and made noises. I even wonder, if she joined a class where they sing songs and play games, she would start to improve. Right now she makes baby sounds 'mamama' and 'bababa' and claps her hands but sometimes I wonder how much of that is actually disability and how of it is being under-stimulated. The plight of children, and people, with disabilities is really heart-breaking here. I chose to work with the infant group because I have done research on infant brain development and want to try to improve the development for infants who are not being held. However, the groups that have children with disabilities also pull on my heartstrings. The caregivers in those groups are a bit more callous. They are not as nice to the volunteers. I feel like they think, what is the point. Many of these children will not live long. The volunteers are often the only smiling, kissing, hugging, talking to the children will ever get. Which isn't right, and isn't fair, but for a poor country, children with disabilities are on the low end of priorities. (Once again, read Boy from Baby House 10, to learn more about the struggles of children with disabilities growing up in orphanages in post Soviet countries).

It has been two weeks since the volunteers arrived and now they are leaving me. Two more volunteers arrive on Sunday, which is village day in Gratesti. Apparently there will be lots of dancing, food, etc.
This week we went to another opera. This one was by Johann Strauss, called Die Fledermaus (the bat). It was $6. I think the Moldovan opera company took some license with the play, because there was quite a bit of dialogue for it to be considered an opera. And it seemed to deviate from the original play, or the one on wikipedia anyway. I think the volunteers had a really nice trip. They gave me a card thanking me for my help, although when we translated it it actually said that I was a really good boyfriend. Compliment taken! It is hard to believe I have been here for a month already. I am halfway through my trip. Time goes so fast!