Cherven (or Chervyen, Chervin, Chervin’, Cervene – so good they named it 5 times!) is where we find ourselves for much of our next adventure on the #inportanterstuff journey. Irina is with us for the week, and she is trying to teach us the alphabet and pronunciation. “You see the Ч in Чэрвень” (that’s the Belarusian name of the town), “that’s pronounced ch like the word Чай (that’s tea)”. Joanne is getting it, but to me, it all appears to be double Dutch (or Russian or Belarusian)!
It appears to be a much more modern place than we were used to in Gorodishche (check out the horse and cart in my photos from this week – maybe not so modern). It has a population of just over 10,000 people (that’s Shannon) and is close to the capital Minsk. For convenience (and because Yura loves to drive), we travel in and out of the orphanage each day, stopping in the local shop on day one to load up with sweets and biscuits to feed as many of the close to 300 residents that will be part of our daily routine this week.
The building is modern with beautiful grounds, but we soon discover that navigating the three-storey orphanage is a bit of a struggle! There are doors leading to doors, and lifts on two sides of the building that look identical and bring us to two wings that are indiscernible from each other. Alena (she works here) tells us that it took her a year and a half to navigate comfortably – I give up and decide that we will follow Irina (or anyone else who wants to point us to someone who wants to see the Irish – that’s everyone!). As the weather here is still so good (cooler than Ireland I’m hearing), we spend a lot of time outdoors with the different groups, easy to find my way around here.
We quickly discover that, although we are in a different orphanage, many of the groups and residents are similar to those we have met in Gorodishche. There are the “beds and cots”, the “independents”, the “wild ones” (more on them later), the “sporty ones” (I get to challenge and beat them once), and everything in between.
The one thing that we learn early, they love it when the Irish are in town.
The food here has been fantastic (for me) but is quite different from what we are used to at home. I’ve been spoiled by Irina and some of the others who have heard that “Don will eat anything”. Joanne, on the other hand, has fed on cheese and salad for the past weeks (not that that’s bad!). As we are back in Minsk, we look forward to being able to choose to eat at “home” or go out occasionally for some “normal” food in local restaurants.
The cost of either choice is notably less than we would pay at home, although that’s comparing here to Irish prices (and wages) and it is clear that eating out is not an option for all here in Belarus. As it’s our first week here, we choose to do a bit of both (following the Domino’s disaster that I spoke of last week in my blog).
Our first venture is a Georgian restaurant in the local shopping centre – a nice looking place and “cheap as chips”. We are shown to our table, and I’m intrigued by what I see others eating (I have no idea what it is – see “Don will eat anything”). There is an excellent mix of vegetarian and meat dishes on the menu, and at last, Joanne will get to eat well! We discover that the food I like the look of is called khinkali – I order 3 with lamb and spices. I quickly google “how to eat khinkali to save some embarrassment – there’s a very specific way to do this – knives and forks are frowned upon). Joanne has decided what she will have and asks the waiter (he speaks a little English) to hear him say “we’re out of that”. All OK, she has a second option – “we’re out of that too”, turns out that everything will be back on the menu in two days but the vegetarian choice for today is . . . . fried cheese and mushrooms. When it comes to dessert, Joanne orders to be told – you guessed it – “we will have that in two days”. Out of embarrassment, the waiter offers a free dessert that he delivers quickly. Maybe we’ll come back in two days to test the menu again!
At the end of the week, we visited an Armenian café in Cherven. Five of us are “fed to full” for less than the price of a single person at a reasonable restaurant at home. I benefit from the fact that Irina doesn’t like spicy pork (and as it happens, I made a very plain choice with my chicken dish). My eyes are watering, and my nose running, I finish the entire plate. It was fantastic (and big, and tasty). I’m starting to like this “local” food.
I experience a Dran Burger (dranaki burger – look it up) in one of my experiments with local food. I’m still not over it, the less said the better!
When we visited Cherven Orphanage on the first morning we were lucky to find many of the groups were out on verandas (the indoor maze is unknown to use at this point). I bought the guitar from Gorodishche and it’s a big hit on all the days (more on this later). We join a group of girls and boys on one of the verandas before heading to one of the outdoor (shaded) areas where we meet Group 5 – surely not the wild ones that I’ve left behind in Gorodishche.
Many of this group are in wheelchairs and we are told that there is quite a mixture of disabilities in this group. The cutest of them all is Sabrina (I had to learn her name so that I could try to forget it quickly 😊). She’s new in the group (maybe a respite visitor) and she is adorable looking. I reach out to her and within a second, she’s on my shoulder – how did she do that? The mama quickly comes to my rescue and “peels” Sabrina from me. I tried a different approach but she’s a determined climber and I move quickly to some of the others in the group, I’m too old for this stuff!
We take a few of the group on a walk around the grounds, Alena leading the way. We bite off more than we can chew, the distance is too great and before we know it the kids are lying down and taking off their shoes – they’re not going any further! We meet a few bigger boys, and they help us to bring the reluctant walkers back to the group.
Within seconds I noticed that Sabrina had caught Joanne’s attention and was attempting the “use her as a climbing frame” ploy that she had used on me. Joanne is more experienced in this and is quickly able to bring Sabrina into her arms, she remains calm and looks so comfortable (Sabrina that is). Within a few minutes she’s wriggling again (Sabrina again!) and she’s had enough cuddling.
It’s feeding time for the group so I muck in to see if I can deliver as much as I can whilst spilling little (and avoid getting covered in any “overflow” or spits – there are many). I’m happy to have met this group, we don’t see them (or Sabrina) on any of the subsequent visits – I’m not sure I’m that sad 😊.
I’m glad that I brought the Guitar for the trip. It’s clear that all the groups love music and I am the centre of attention as queues gather to “play a tune”. I’m happy to pass the guitar to anyone who wants a go, but I always keep one hand on the instrument. There are bashers (they hit the strings as hard as they can with the plectrum), tippers (those that don’t get how it all works and seldom touch the strings), the backwards players (they use their left hand to awkwardly play), the songwriters (they don’t care what way they play as long as they can “compose” as they play), and – The Guitar Girl!
Marina has been with us on the outdoor veranda and in her room on the third floor (Group 11 Girls – see I know where I am and how to get there now!). She has the most amazing steely blue eyes, that quintessential Russian look (or Belarussian in this case!). She’s very outgoing and appears to be one of the most confident girls in this group. We hear that she has been to school but was expelled because rules might be an issue for her – Go Marina.
She queues for her turn on the guitar, and I expect one of the types that I’ve described above. But no . . . we have a strummer. She is delighted that the sound she is making is as if she has played for years (spoiler alert – if you look closely enough, you’ll see that it’s all an illusion).
But it’s not just about Joanne and me as the entertainers, many (all girls as I remember) are keen to sing for us in the groups we visit. We have every level of talent and there are songs aplenty (and a bit of dancing too). I’m determined to teach as many as I can to sing along to Spancil Hill (the oh ya ya version [or о я я as it’s known here]). And before too long the raucous chorus is heard throughout the hallways of the orphanage.
Irina leaves us with one of the groups on one of the mornings, she’s looking to find a connection from many years ago. She arrives at the apartment block and enquires about a lady called Luda (she knows the block but is unclear on the precise apartment number). A lady from the same block asks if Irina is enquiring if Luda is still alive – no, simply which number is she living in?
Sometime later, Irina arrives back in the Orphanage and explains that we will meet Luda tomorrow at lunchtime – the plot thickens! We enquire and are told that Luda is the wife of the former Director of the orphanage. Victor passed away some years ago, he was a good friend (as was Luda) to many of the early volunteers from Ireland. We are to bring cake, and ourselves, to Luda’s apartment for a cup of tea tomorrow.
We meet with Oksana (she’s a mama in one of the bed groups in the Orphanage) at the local shop where cake is purchased, and we head around the corner to Luda’s apartment. “Bring a cake and we’ll have a cup of tea” was the clear message that I heard. The reality transpired to be – “bring a cake and Luda will have prepared a feast fit for a King (and queen)”. The table was overflowing with food that was prepared by our host and included meats, salads (go Joanne!), bread, and a homemade cake to finish. Was there tea? Well, there was an offer of tea and coffee but there was a reason to toast friends new and old. Champagne was offered to the ladies (there were four) and something stronger for the man (that’s me!).
Luda was very emotional about the meeting, she hadn’t slept the previous night as she remembered all of her old Irish friends – some now passed, unfortunately. There were a couple that she particularly remembered, one that she knew had passed and one that she had not been in contact with for many years.
God bless technology! No sooner was the name mentioned and I was eagerly searching to get some contact information. A mobile phone number “appeared” and before Luda knew it, she was having a conversation (through Irina) with her old friend Frances from Ireland. It took both by surprise (Frances was in the car and had to pull off the motorway so that she could hear – and be heard – properly). And in a moment, years of memories were flowing through the room. Luda was clearly emotional at hearing a voice from a beautiful and distant past, Irina too was quite emotional as she set me a task to find a way of more permanently connecting with Frances. Challenge accepted, within 48 hours they were connected and reminiscing on “the good old days”.
Meanwhile, back in the apartment. To friends old and new, to dearly departed friends, to a return visit (soon), and to life itself. This was one of those magic moments where language and geography are irrelevant, and it is just human connections that are important.
A phone call to Irina. We are due back in the orphanage to meet the cookery class. They have food waiting for us and we need to hurry – more food!
The cookery class, a mix of girls and boys, have prepared aubergine pancakes for us and eagerly greet us as we arrive. They are as keen to meet us as they are to consume all of what they had been preparing for our visit. Enough for all – I can see from the stack, yet some complain of not getting any (and I see that the enthusiastic ones have a few on their plates). Tasty, but a little more than we needed after the feed in Luda’s.
There are two reasons to invite us for pancakes. Firstly, to show off their work (and it was tasty) but then the “while you’re here” part of the invitation. Zoë, the teacher, would like us to buy some ingredients for classes, the Irish money goes such a long way over here. Absolutely, what does she need? She starts to make a list and we suggest that it might be easier for her to buy the goods and we will pay (and anyway, some items on the list are entirely unknown to me!).
No money changes hands here in the orphanages without paper trails. This protects both sides and ensures that there is nothing untraceable – I wonder if it works the same way much higher up the “ladder”. Zoë sets off on her mission and we will get the paperwork tomorrow.
We arrive the following morning to find the table laden with produce – enough to keep the class going for 3 to 4 weeks. A wax tablecloth is also purchased to replace the old one, coincidentally this is patterned with sunflowers – the symbol of Burren Chernobyl Project. We get a resounding SPACIBA (thank you) from Zoë and her team, I’m hoping we can taste more of the produce as the week continues.
For some reason, we are attracted to Group 11 on most of our visits to Cherven this week. This group are singers (and guitar players) and there is a very welcoming feel about the room that they use when not outdoors or in class/school. There is an afternoon “siesta” time for all the groups, something we don’t see in Gorodishche. It brings the whole place to a calm state and on more than one occasion we witness tired heads appearing into the living room in group 11.
Our first visit, when we were unaware of the afternoon sleep, found us with just three of the girls and the teacher. We went to the classroom and played and coloured (you must remember that I am quite an artist) with the girls. Ira (she’s non-verbal and deaf) takes a shine to my beard; she enjoys pulling at it and pinching my nose. In certain circles, this might be quite unacceptable behaviour, but I am able to encourage her to not be so rough (I understand that this is a sensory stimulant for her). She’s so adorable (and before you ask Ruth Byrne – no I did not fall in love with a young lady in Cherven, nothing to see here). On a later visit, Joanne notes that Ira seems to have accumulated three rings as gifts when others have just one – I wonder how that might have happened!
There is a young lady in this group that Joanne and I mistake for one of the mamas, we see her on one of the visits speaking with Irina. I guess that she is in her late 20s or early 30s and looks like she should be working there. How first impressions can be deceiving! On a subsequent visit to this group on the veranda, we see her cuddling her favourite blanket and opening her carefully clutched copybook to get the lyrics to the song that she chooses to sing for us.
We finish our singsong with an invasion to see if all gathered can get a pair of sunglasses or a ring (there was a full bag when we arrived, but none when we left). Everywhere we go on our trips around the orphanage, we are accompanied by our very own guide/security guard – Igor (he’s from the independent group). He’s eager to carry our bags, carry the guitar, and be as helpful as possible. He’s a safe pair of hands for our stuff when the madness of the sunglasses and rings descends into an all-out riot!
Group 11’s rendition of Spancil Hill and their cheering is heard two floors below and as we leave the building the Director says that they can tell that the Irish are in town (I take that as a compliment).
We are back in Minsk for the coming week, taking a short break from the madness and mayhem that has been our world for the past 6 weeks – can you believe it’s been that long already? They say time flies when . . . .
It is “back to school” season here too and the excitement (and trepidation) of September 1st has now passed. There are still some students who are just about to start their courses, one of these is Igor. He will be our housemate for the coming week (he stays a little longer) as he takes up his course here at Military School in Minsk. He has struggled to get accommodation as demand here in the city is very high currently (sound familiar?). He will have a bed in a couple of weeks but in the meantime, he is looking like he may be homeless – not that such a concept exists in Belarus.
Enter the best mama of them all – Irina (although technically she’s a babushka [a granny]). She’s got wind of Igor’s dilemma from her grandson Vanya (he’s sorted with his college and accommodation in Brest). Irina makes a few calls and before you know it – Igor is sorted.
But Igor has one more mama in his corner, Joanne decides that he needs some toiletries to be left on the bed in the room that is prepared as only Joanne can. As we understand, Igor has no mammy in his life and has been living with his grandfather for some time. Little does he know, he’s now in a position where mammies are aplenty 😊.
It’s World Cup fever time back at home I expect, I hear that some of “the lads” are heading out to watch Ireland in their opening game against Romania. My original plan was to follow suit and find a place in Minsk where we might see the game (like you do when you’re on holiday in Spain). Two big problems with the plan. Firstly, no one here has a clue what rugby is and the next challenge, there’s no such thing as a pub in the city!
Belarus is a sports-mad nation with soccer, volleyball, swimming, tennis, and ice hockey being top of the list of competitive sports here. I ask a few people if they have heard about the World Cup and guess what . . . they don’t even know the sport exists.
Belarusians like their drink, they have the highest consumption, per capita, of vodka in the World. They are not beer drinkers but they like hard liquor and we have even been given a bottle of the hard stuff – local poitín – to show how strong they like their alcohol to be. But they have a very simple rule about drinking and they don’t understand how we (the Irish) drink alcohol. If you are to drink here, it must be when you are eating. Our experience shows us that the volume of alcohol consumed is not important if there is always food available. Us heathens, we drink for drinking’s sake! Hence, there are no pubs as such in the city but lots of restaurants!
I get to watch the game, albeit in the quiet of “home”, and yes, I did drink a beer without having food 😉. We are about a minute behind, so I avoid reading my phone when the beeps come through from the “lads” who are probably enjoying lovely smooth Guinness in the local at home.
Joanne’s Reflection/Poem Of The Week
Week six has whipped up some beautiful connections. On our visit to Cherven orphanage, Irina (our Angel on earth) reconnected with an old friend. We were invited to the most intimate “tea”. On reflection of our experience, my poem developed. We are all Unforgotten Angels in the making xx (P.s Photo taken by Don of Luda reciting her own emotional poem).
A Random Selection Of Week 5 Photos
Importanter Stuff 
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