The phone in the apartment has the habit of ringing once and then it stops. Something goes to fax. I pick it up. It starts beeping like crazy. A few minutes later, I see that it's off the hook. I hang it up. Cami calls. "I'm glad you're awake, I tried calling and it went to fax and then I called back and couldn't get through." "Sorry about that, I left it off the hook." I go down. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I said. Romania, Chicago, wherever I go, there I am. Tardy. We drive through Bucuresti to what she describes as a not so nice part of town. I ask what happens there. It's not really what happens, but just that there is no money in this part. Roma live in tent communities with no toilet and stove. Tension between Romas and Romanians. Tigani. The Romas don't want to intigrate anyway. Everyone accuses them of being thieves, but a lot of them are, she says. The streets here were dirt three years ago. We turn the block. Two little kids run up to the car and want to get in. "Nu...nu." They are so excited to see us. We get to the orphanage school.
We get out of the car and walk around the school towards the orphanage. The kids all run up to us and hug us. "Buna. Sunt Kevin." "Vorbesti romaneste?" "Putin." Joy. Denisa is about 17 and she appears to be the leader of the group. There's an older boy with no shoes. I asked him where are his shoes. He says something that I don't understand, but makes a gesture like they got thrown over a electrical wire. We go in. More joy. They all sit at tables and Cami starts to tell them that they'll be making Christmas decorations. The oldest group of girls with Denisa tell me that I'll be sitting with them. There are other volunteers there, a girl with an Argentine father and an American mother who's lived in Romania her whole life, and two boys who are both half Italian, I think, and an American man a little older than Cami.
"SCOTCH!" We make little garlands from construction paper. Rosu si verde. SCOTCH! They tear the scotch tape with their teeth. I get put in charge of tearing it, but I do it with my fingers. The girls make long garlands. Denisa gets a little close to me. I scoot away a little bit. Puberty in the orphanage. I can't imagine what that's like. God. One of the older girls corrects my pronunciation of "uh" versus "a." Again and again, until I do it right. She's hard on me. It's okay, I have to learn the difference. Are you and Cami taking us to the mall? I don't know.
I see two little boys get into a scuffle. I leave the girls and go over there. The boys are excited when I say I'm an actor. My name's Kevin. I must be in films! I must know SINGUR ACASA (HOME ALONE)! I'm like the boy in HOME ALONE! No, no I am the boy from HOME ALONE! I am Macaulay Culkin! Nu, nu, numai fac teatru, baietii. Just theatre, boys. They start doing handstands and cartwheels.
I join them.
I armwrestle two boys. I only win once.
I start talking with a girl named Sonia. She looks 13, but I later find out that she's 17. She's tough, and brilliant and interesting. We talk for a long time. "Asa." She says she'll come work in America. What kind of work? Do you go to school? Here and there. "Vorbiti mai rar, va rog." "Nu, nu, Sonia." "Vorbesti mai rar, te rog. Sonia." She keeps touching my Adam's apple. She's never seen one before I guess. I do have an enormous Adam's apple. We're buddies by the end of this. At first she doesn't want a picture. Then later she does. Here we are:
They hang the garlands up on the walls with scotch tape. These kids are so strong. I want to direct a play with them. I want to do something to help. I feel so attached and I've been here for only an hour. They laugh and scold me for my half-way Romanian fluency. And then it's time to leave, abruptly. Time to go. Okay, okay, okay, time to go. I don't really want to go, I could stay here for a while. Time to go.
It's time to go. We leave abruptly without any fuss. One of the boys escorts me out. I think I've forgotten my camera. We run back in! I look around! It's in my pocket! Goodbye again friends! I don't want to leave, but it's time to go. We go outside. Denisa meets me, the boss, the one who I first met. She asks in Romanian if maybe I can spot her 10 lei. "I can't, I'm just a poor artist." Ah, she understands. Here we are:
She walks me to the car. We're surrounded by little kids as we get in. "Ai grija de tine, Kevin." "Si tu." I say that I'll write to them. "No, just write to me." Goodbye goodbye la revedere ai grija, goodbye, te pup. Cami takes me to get Romania Schwarma at Emmi Fast Food on Iancului with an order window on the sidewalk. It's like Mediterranean Schwarma but 100 times more delicious with mayonaisse and onions and pickles and two kinds of cabbage and we eat in the car and I love it.
I ask her what will happen to the girls. "They don't pass their test so they can't go to high school." I don't like the system. I say it's a hard path from them. "A lot of them end up as exotic dancers," she says, "the way to put it nicely." I love her honesty and her generosity. Her directness. Her giving spirit.
My heart is in my throat.
We go to Cami's apartment. Her daughter runs out with a cell phone and a charger. We go to Vodafone, she asks the technician for a pre-paid sim card. I buy it for 30some lei. She takes me to the money exchange; I do the talking there. "As dori sa schimb dolari." I ask Cami if maybe Theatre Y could do something with the orphanage kids. I ask if maybe I can volunteer at the summer camp they do for them. They get birthday gifts of toothpaste and toothbrushes and deodorant. For Christmas, they each make a list and they each get something different. It's good. My heart is still heavy, but it's really good. THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE IN BUCURESTI WORKING TO MAKE A CHANGE. I get home, I call Delia. She says she'll call me, I can come to the AIESEC conference in the evening, and I can come to her place before that and meet her friends! Nap time on the couch.
wow. beautiful. I love this Kevin. I wish I knew how to get in touch with you or how long you are gone.
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