What We Do

An American Volunteers Experience

Suzanne Reese is an Infant Massage Instructor and Trainer from the US and joined a team of Irish medical volunteers on a trip to Vesnovo Children’s Mental Asylum in October 2005 and February 2006.

"There was a lot of uncertainty about going to Belarus. I surrendered my trust into the hands of the people of Chernobyl Children’s Project International, and I’d do it over and over again. After a long and tiring trip we eventually arrived at Vesnovo after midnight. A tour of the eight units in the asylum was the first orientation round the following day. I felt like a pot of honey for bees as the children clung to every limb, my waist and then there were the ones that leap and, while air-borne manage to wrap their arms around my neck and legs and around my ribcage.

There is the child who looks at me and cries “Maaaaaammmaaa!” over and over again, clutching my shirt. Do I look like the mother who left him behind...Or because I’m a woman, do I merely represent the image of a mother to any child there? I’ll never forget his tears and his face of anguish nor the image of children rocking back and forth, back and forth-hardly aware of our presence. In Unit 2, children sat on the floor, because they cannot stand. They scoot and slide to greet us as we cross the threshold of their room, the “mattress room”. There is one large mattress where the floor is soft. Then I wonder where the sharp smell of urine is coming from.

The little boy in the red sleeper makes his way towards us. The light shines in from the window illuminating the wet trail behind him. I look closer and notice the shades of red in his sleeper. Up to his chest, it’s dark red, its wet red. I alert the caregiver on duty, motioning to my own bum and then pointing to his, I say “Pee-pee”. It becomes the international ‘word of the day’. This was my first experience watching a child being ‘handled’. He is taken across the hall, disrobed, left on the cold tile floor while a pot is filling with water. This is my first glimpse of a child with a genetic mutation.

His spine, arms and legs reminded me of young leaves on a tropical plant that had not yet lengthened and opened. They remain curled and tucked-waiting for the right amount of sun, water and reason to open. I have no idea what temperature the water is. He is screaming and then curiously quiet, even stoic. The pot is full. He is placed in the pot (which is in a larger tub). No more than 30 seconds later, he is pulled out, dried off, dressed in another sleeper, and taken back across the hallway to the “mattress room” to resume the socializing he had initiated. We exchange some touch, some smiles, exploring the straps on my bag, the length of my shirt, the funny printed fabric on my head and the pockets of my pants.

The older kids that leave a salient memory are Sasha, Sveta and the Cobbler. Sasha is shy, doesn’t want to be seen much. The word around the Asylum is that he is depressed. Sasha is the “big” version of the little guy in the red sleeper. Sasha spends his days mostly in a wheelchair. He is a beautiful young man, strong body, a smile that sings and a brain that hungers for the books of doctors-to-be. Sasha knows what the world outside is like. He has visited Ireland on respite. Sasha knows dignity and opportunity. There is every reason why Sasha should be in school, studying to be a doctor. In Belarus, his body determines the fate of his brain.

Sveta is the gypsy baby all grown up. 21 years ago her family was passing through one day and literally left her behind when they moved on. Asylum life is all that Sveta has known. Sveta is smart and she is strong. Sveta is ‘mother’ to the little ones and thrives on her maternal responsibilities at the Asylum. When the invitation is open Sveta holds hands. Hugs and shares smiles. She is all grown up on the outside, carries the responsibilities of an adult, the dignity of a human-with the spirit of a child evident in every smile. The Cobbler is a proud cobbler and now even more proud as he can speak. Fresh from surgery for severe cleft palate, he has a smile to show every taker.

Unit 5 is where I spent most of my time. It’s the High Dependency Unit. These are the youngest and sickest children. Sergei learned to walk! Given a little chance, Tanya can use a walker. Marina is all smiles, and then there is Maxim-little brave man. Maxim became “my guy”. We were alerted to the trend that each volunteer seems to develop an attachment to one child in particular. Maxim became “my guy”.

On January 16, Maxim was 6 years old. He looks like a three year old. At first look, his image is reminiscent of the children I’ve seen in the ‘Save the Children’ campaigns on television. Emaciated, without movement and near death. Maxim was not expected to be alive when we arrived. Like many of the children there, Maxim has a form of Cerebral Palsy. He was abandoned at birth. He cannot speak, he does not cry; instead, he wails. He is visually impaired and upon arrival had the worst bedsore I had ever seen. Maxim doesn’t really look at people, but that week, we often caught one another’s gaze, and I could not have been more smitten. I wonder if he ever thought about the funny lady who smiles, sings and cries all at the same time.

These children and all these people wake up every morning to the reality they live in. I get to go home. I am fortunate to have known these children. These children have far more to give than I could ever offer them, ever. It is my great fortune to have shared time and space with these beautiful souls and for my life to be changed forever. Life will never be the same. I truly believe the children are the angels. They are here to remind us of our own good fortunes and to teach us there is joy to be derived from each day. I believe this with all my heart. Children are a reason for each day to be celebration-all children".