Deirdre McGarry in Romania

VP author Deirdre McGarry has forwarded the following report about a recent visit to Romania; without further ado, here it is.

Val Taylor showing the villagers a copy of the book.

I’ve just returned from a trip to Romania, to Odoreu, the village featured in The Day of Small Things, available from Valley Press.  I travelled with my friend Val who inspired the book and who has been committed to the people of Romania since she went there after the revolution and saw the horrors of the orphanages.  She has been going ever since and now is particularly interested in the gypsy community at Odoreu.

Before I got there I stopped for a day’s sightseeing in Budapest, a beautiful city full of sculpture, architecture, stories, history and religious antiquities including the mummified right arm of the king who founded the state in 1000AD.  If you want a relatively cheap short break to a European city I’d recommend it wholeheartedly.

It was a short trip to the border and into Romania, down a few gears instantly in terms of wealth. The roads are quiet, the land is flat and in the countryside there are still iconic East European wooden carts and horses and women in black before their time.

Here is a country of hardworking deeply religious people whose generosity takes your breath away and is truly humbling. It is decrepit, crumbling and in the towns quite ugly and ill kept - the trials and suffering from the era of Ceausescu continues to be a blight. I wasn’t so much worried at night about being attacked as falling down a big hole in the pavement!  It is immediately disturbing to see that most skips contain a poor gypsy rummaging for the means to keep him and his family alive. This is a country which is so deeply prejudiced and disdainful to this group of people who are cut off from work, education and the right to an 'identity' which is the doorway to what the rest of society is entitled to. Many do not have these identity papers and the officials are prone to much bribery and corruption, which makes everything a trial.

At last I get to visit the village I’ve seen so many pictures of and heard so many stories about. It is familiar, but it is shocking. I’m stunned to see a row of four churches at the entrance to the encampment where the gypsies live, churches which have turned them away. I want to kick the door, haul out the priest and vent some serious anger. I thank God I am on a church mission and hopefully bearing a more meaningful witness of the Son of Man I have placed my faith in.

It is a dry day, but I still imagine how the mud would turn in a shower of rain.

The houses are built of home-made mud bricks, with plastic and tarpaulin found in rubbish dumps for roofs. For heating and cooking an upturned oil drum with a wood fire burning inside, and a one-pot meal if you have something to eat prepared on the hot top. Some people have electricity wired from a variety of sources so it was a good job I wasn’t a health and safety expert. The toilet was a large hole in the ground, full of excrement - depth unknown - and I seriously feared I might fall in and never be seen again. I persuaded Melinda, the gypsy leader’s wife who had a wicked sense of mischievous humour to hold my hand while I did the business, which caused great hilarity.

Deirdre with Elvirag and family.

I was deeply distressed that two people were dying without medical aid at all, just sat outside these hovels with only their family to be there beside them and life going on around them. Elvirag had been bitten by a dog, developed blood poisoning and was beyond the antibiotics which might have saved her earlier, except she couldn’t afford medical care. Andreas had lung cancer and was in his last days, without pain relief. I was concerned too for a new baby, Miguel, who lived in this squalor and although clearly much loved could not have access to the clean conditions we demand in Britain. No wonder he had little black fingernails when the only water in the whole community was two taps from wells the Bridlington Romanian Project have sunk, and the river.

But this is Europe! This is part of the European community!

What would I really like to say briefly - I would have swapped the best holiday I’ve ever had for this opportunity, I know it has changed my life and I am going back. I touched a reality I rarely get the opportunity to witness and I believe I am called to wake up to what I can do something about to make the world a better place for everybody. I just thank God he showed me.

I have come back to fundraise for a cow to provide milk for the children (what they asked for) and with a number of other ideas which may help to improve community life.