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Mushrooms and berries

The morning and afternoon of our first full day at the orphanage was spent mushroom hunting, berry picking, and picnicking. Sarah and I and our translators covered ourselves from head to toe (despite temperatures in the low 80s) and loaded onto a bus with a half dozen or so of the kids from the orphanage and a handful of the caregivers and drove out to a nearby state-owned park. The plan was to divide up by gender and go in search of mushrooms and berries. Immediately the boys split off from me, Misha the translator, and Vadim the woodshop guy. I should have expected this, given the way my first meeting with Sergey went the previous night. Still, it was difficult not to feel a bit discouraged. Nevertheless, we had a good time rummaging through the woods. When we got back to the site of the picnic the boys were there just hanging around. I decided to try to engage them again. Let me first say, the male of the species, I think, needs to do something together in order to bond. It's not enough--really, it's just too difficult--to bond over a mere conversation. Several of the older boys, Sergey included, earn some pocket money by chopping wood for various people throughout the village. This is a skill that I've never developed and it doesn't look like I have a very promising future in wood chopping. But I decided to have the boys teach me how to chop wood for the fire that was roasting our lunch. Let's just say we all had a good laugh at my attempts. Then it was their turn to demostrate. They were all of course much more proficient than I. One of the older fellas, Andrey, was able to do it with one hand--no mean feat, I must say. This activity lasted all of ten minutes, but it was a start. There was a spring near the site of our picnic and so after lunch most of the kids found their way to the water. Undeterred by previous failed conversations with the boys, Sarah and I made our way over to them and tried to chat about going fishing the next day. I asked what I thought were important questions, such as "where will we be fishing?" and "what time are we planning to wake up and leave?" I got mostly shrugs, but one of the guys responded that they don't worry about waking themselves up in the mornings because the caregivers are responsible for that. I really started to worry about these kids at that point. First, they have real trouble engaging adults in a conversation--I understand why and I don't blame the kids for this, but still, you have to admit, that the inability to carry on a conversation could be a serious stumbling block. And second, they don't even know how to wake themselves up in the morning at the age of sixteen or seventeen. The orphanage director and the caregivers do a great job with the kids. They really try to help them become functional adults, but the fact remains that these young people live not in a home with parents, but in an institution. This is difficult for even the most resilient people to overcome. We had a fun time mushroom hunting but this chat we had down by the spring was a stark reminder of what Sarah and I, and Children's HopeChest, are up against in trying to look after orphaned and abandoned children.

Katyusha Part Dva

Just to clarify . . . Katyusha is not a reference to rocket artillery.

Russian has many names for one person. Ekaterina is a formal name. Katya is the short version--like Benjamin and Ben. Katyusha is the diminutive--like saying 'sweet little Katya.'

Katyusha is also a traditional Russian song. When I worked at KidsFirst Adoption, I learned this song to perform at the Foundation's annual fundraising dinner. It is patriotic, from The Great Patriotic War (also known as World War II), about a girl waiting for her love to return from battle. This is the only Russian folk song I know, and it came in handy at Sovietsk.

We visited Dolbiylova, a beautiful, remote village home to Galina & Vladimir, two supporters of Sovietsk orphanage. (More to come on this later--we could never explain our day at Dolbiylova in one sitting.) After our second feast that day, Ben was whisked off for some Russian diplomacy with Vladimir, and I remained with the women. "Let's sing!" said Natasha, one of our hosts, and I was glad to know one song--Katyusha. We sang loud and laughed and enjoyed each other. Little moments like these gave us a chance to show the people that we are truly invested in their culture, their lives, and the children. As the feast ended, Natasha declared that American people are really no different than Russian people. She wished the governments and diplomats could join us for dinner and see how we get along. I couldn't agree more.

Here we are after our first feast at the river in Dolbiylova: Ben, Me, Galina, & Vladimir.

Katyusha

I first met Katya in March 2007, when we spent about 2 hours at Sovietsk during a tour of Kirov orphanages. She had just come to the orphanage a few months earlier. She didn't talk. She didn't smile. But she stuck by my side, and when it was time for us to leave, she ran looking for me.

I promised I would write to her, and I did. When we became sponsorship coordinators for Sovietsk, I immediately searched for Katya's profile. I became her sponsor, and we write to each other regularly. She sends me pictures she draws and tells me about her interests--gymnastics, boxing, school, or the orphanage animals. Her letters are a bit reserved, but always a little bit funny--full of spunk.

When we arrived at Soviestk in August, I met a different Katya. The caregivers told her I would be coming to see her, and she was watching for the bus to arrive. When she saw us, she snuck over to our group and hid behind a caregiver until I saw her and called her name. That was the last time I saw a shy Katya! She ran over, gave me a huge hug, and was joined at my hip from that point on. It was such a joy to hear her laugh, to see her smile, to watch her confidence and adventurousness throughout the week.

Katya wasn't staying at Sovietsk when we were there. She spent the summer at a caregiver's home within walking distance from the orphanage. Every morning, our bedroom door would fly open, and there was Katya! She brought me fresh milk--still warm--and berries from the home she was visiting. She played guitar and volleyball and introduced me to the cats and helped me find mushrooms and showed me how to flip blini and laughed at my horrible pronunciation of the Russian ы vowel. At dinner time every day, it was hard to send her home.

I was so amazed to see what a different girl Katya had become in the last year and a half. I am not naive when it comes to children living in institutions, though. The survival skills these children develop are quite sophisticated--if a child has the resilience to capitalize on her strengths, she will use that to her advantage in an institution. It is easier to be gregarious than it is to be vulnerable. Befriending the adults in the room has its advantages, and I have seen her exert her 'leadership skills' over the other children. As the director put it, Katya is 'complicated.'

Katya is 10 years old, a point when girls start learning how to be young women. This is yet another crucial time when a girl needs a mother.

Katya got a letter from her mother while I was visiting. I gently asked her what she thought about this, but she didn't say much. As the week went on, I wondered . . . . I'm 28, and Katya is 10. I wonder if I am her mother's age.

I wonder if I am anything like her mother.

Katya has so many wonderful qualities: she is hilarious, smart as a whip, a natural leader, brave, beautiful, strong, and kind. But even bright and spunky and clever girls need a mother.

Good News from Kirov Grads

After children graduate from the orphanages in Russia (anywhere between ages 14-18), many of them go to technical school. This is usually nothing like a tech school you might see here. They can be horrible, disheartening places--unsafe dorms, abusive peers and teachers, sub par education, simply a continuation of the loneliness and discouragement of life as an orphaned child.

But, for all the awful stories out there, there are stories of hope and promise as well. In Kirov region, home to Sovietsk orphanage, Children's HopeChest is engaging with the children at the tech schools. Lives are changing. Read more about it at Ben's brother Daniel's blog:

danieljclark.com


Dan works for Children's HopeChest and has the privilege of finding more supporters for programs like these. One unique feature of HopeChest programs is that they seek to maintain ties with our kids until they are at least 23--well into their young adult lives, in Russian terms. Now that Sovietsk has supporters, the future is much brighter for the children there. We hope and pray that the relationships we are building now at Sovietsk will continue to bring joy and hope as our children go out and face the world.

My first time meeting Sergey in person

I had been writing to Sergey for a while before I actually met him in person. The photo I had of him was really outdated so I hardly recognized him at first--he grew probably six inches and thinned out quite a bit since the photograph was taken. But the personality profile I received from Hopechest describing Sergey was spot on: he's a shy boy and he likes to look after the animals, especially his cats. The conversation did not flow freely, as it did between Sarah and her Russian friend, Katya. To say the conversation was stilted and a bit strained might be an overstatement, but just barely. I asked him several questions: how old are you now? what year are you in school? how'd you get that huge bandage on your toe (a bicycle mishap)? He gave me one or two word answers and barely made eye contact. Being a shy manchild myself I could see that he was having a hard time and it was taking every bit of chutzpah he had to sit there and talk to me. But he knew I had come there to see him--the caregivers had told him so. I could sense that his reticence wasn't because he thought I was a dorky old guy but because he was and is painfully shy and quite accustomed to disappointment. He was planning to spend the summer with his mom, but she fell off the proverbial bandwagon shortly before he was to visit her. So it's understandable that he wasn't too sure about me. But I think he was starting to get the point that I was trying to communicate to him in my letters--I want to be your friend.

Welcome, One and All

We're home!


After a whirlwind of a week at the orphanage in Sovietsk, Russia, we are home and happy. Yes, we came home to Indianapolis thoroughly spent, glad for our own beds and showers and family. But more importantly, we have discovered our home away from home and a new kind of family at the orphanage in Sovietsk.


We cannot begin to explain the magnitude of hospitalty and warmth we received from the people at Sovietsk. We were nothing more than ambassadors, bringing your care and love in our smiles and hugs. If only we could find a way to share even a measure of that love with all of you . . .


There are so many of you, Sovietsk Supporters, from different arenas, different walks of life. We needed a way to bring all of you to one place. So, here we are.

Through this blog, we plan to introduce you to each of the wonderful children of Sovietsk. Through photos and stories from our trip, we will share how our sponsors are changing lives. As needs and changes arrive at Sovietsk, we will keep you informed.

There are so many wonderful things happening at Sovietsk. Galina, the director, and her staff are unlike any other orphanage personnel we have ever met. They put their hearts and souls into the lives of these children, and it is more than evident.


Our story will unfold over time, and we hope you join us along the way. Please, please, please subscribe, ask questions, leave comments, link us, send us your info so we can link to you. The more people who meet these children, who hear their stories, who begin to glimpse their worlds, then the more of an impact we can have together.

From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you for your love for these kids. One of my friends said it very well: "This has to be the most rewarding experience of your life so far." Rewarding, overwhelming, humbling, exciting, heartbreaking, and just so inspiring. We invite you to share this experience with us.

Benjamin, Seryozha (age 14, sponsored by Ben), Sarah, and Katya (age 10, sponsored by Sarah)