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Roma village

October 15, 2012 - Kylie Saari
We went to visit a baby who used to be in the baby hospital but was forcefully reintegrated into her family in a Roma or Gypsy village.

We turned off a main road onto a dirt path that lead up a hill. Along the road were shacks built of everything you can think of — cardboard boxes, cement bricks, broken stones. Roofs were riddled with holes. The whole house would fit maybe 3 adults.

These huts do not keep out the rain. They do not keep out the cold. There is no kitchen or fridge or bathroom. No running water. Despite the temperature in the low fifties, the children were dressed inappropriately.

The little girl who we were visiting is nearly two years old. Her mother has had 12 children, her first when she was 13 years old. Only three live with her. Others are scattered between her mother and state care. Her husband leaves and comes back when he pleases. He was not pleased to have visitors.

Just a few shacks down, another baby who was forcefully reintegrated from the baby hospital to her family was beaten to death last summer. Her mother told the authorities that she told the hospital she didn't want the child, and although Ana was just one month shy of her second birthday, when she would have been able to go into the group home setting, she was sent back to a her birth family, where she died a horrible death.

For the baby we visited today, we brought gifts for her and her sisters, food for her mother, and encouragement. The children had no idea how to receive a gift, and seemed unsure of the concept of the hand puppets we presented. When some little children walked down the road to see what was going on, we gave them some candies. One little boy didn't know which part was the candy and which was the wrapper. After showing him how to eat it, he seemed delighted. We interacted as well as we could, even singing them some songs, which they seemed to thing were very silly. We were forced to make a hasty exit when a horse and cart came running down the road, rearing up when it could go no farther because of the vehicle parked in the path.

As we drove out of the village, the children were smiling and waving to us.

 
 

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