White buildings show their age in the stained veins of grout
that hold together a myriad of sun-bleached bricks. Overgrown grass harbors
armies of gnats and mosquitoes. Fresh, crisp air is clouded by that all too
familiar soviet scent. Dill. Potatoes. Smetana. Mildew. I breathe it in deeply.
I itch a mosquito bite.
One of the other volunteers turns to me, and quickly
whispers in Russian “I’m kind of nervous. Are you nervous?” No, not this time.
But I do remember once being nervous about it. How will we communicate? What
will they think of me? What will I think of them? It is like being 19 again and
stepping off of a bus in the middle of nowhere, Ukraine and instantly being
bombarded by children. Children with whom you can’t communicate, children who
have a lifetime of hardship, children who simply want attention. Yes, I was
nervous then. Perhaps terrified is a better word. But now – this place, this
smell, this language, these children – I understand them. While it is my first
time at the Infectious Disease Orphanage, it is a situation I know well.
The children stream out of the building, glad for the fresh
air and the freedom -delighted to have visitors. A game of soccer starts. A
group of teenage girls immediately gathers around one of the regular volunteers
who acts as their mentor. Boys bike around the sidewalks. I start a small
English lesson with two girls who are eager learn new words, perhaps mostly out
of their desire to understand Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber songs better. It
is a simple morning – but it is what these children need.
Despite the obstacles I have encountered trying to volunteer
at other local HIV orphanages, the Infectious Disease Orphanage was eager to
have volunteers. Some of us are HIV+ adults who will serve a crucial role in
mentoring these youth and teaching them about what it means to live with HIV.
Some of us are simply people who care and want to support these children is
what ways we can. Together we will visit several times a month, spending the
day in conversation with these children, playing with them, teaching them.
Within the Russian Federation, the oldest generation of
youth born with HIV are now entering their teenage years. Currently, no
specific services or programs exist to help transition them from childhood into
adulthood in terms of living with this disease. In a few years they will have
to switch from receiving medical care from a pediatrician, usually who has
managed their case for the entirety of their life, to visiting the Center of AIDS
in their region. Needless to say it is not a welcoming or friendly place. Beyond this, they lack adult role models who can show them how
to lead a successful life managing their HIV. For young girls, this is
especially important. As they move closer to having their own children,
preventing mother to child transmission means preventing a new generation from
being born with HIV. This means they need not only proper health education, but
support from mentors and peers.
Favorite moment from my day at the orphanage: A 15-year old girl with whom I had been talking for about 30 minutes suddenly asked me, "Is that your real hair color?" I've never met anyone in Russia who was excited about my hair color. When I told her it was natural and that many people in the US have dark hair and features, she was so delighted. She proceeded to tell me that her parents came from Turkey and the Caucasus - which is why she was darker than the other children. In a country rampant with racism, it was beautiful to give her a reason to be proud of how she looked and where she came from.
