Servus. . .I am amazed at the human spirit, and baffled at the same time as to how to "fix" the situation in which some of these beneficiaries of the cantina find themselves. I am also caught off guard when little glints of a diamond start to show through this crust of poverty and homelessness and the human spirit sparkles clear and bright.
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Who would have suspected there might be anything under the surface of this one couple, other than another homeless old man and his wife (Andrei and Varvara) who live on the streets of Cluj? I call them "old" since the years have not been kind to this couple who are actually a couple years younger than I am. When Cristina and I first approached them about coming to eat at the cantina, Andrei and Varvara were a bit skeptical. Upon questioning the couple, they then asked us if Gypsies were going to be eating at the cantina. We assured them that we wanted to limit the Gypsies we feed due to the disruptive nature that accompanies this social group. They were still a bit hesitant, but once this couple attended the cantina a couple of times, their fears about the Gypsies disappeared and now they are among our regulars.
One recent day as we were setting up the "sala de mese" (dining room), Andrei came sauntering in and began to open up the piano. I mean, not just to play the piano, but he literally started taking it apart! I could tell he meant no harm, but I was concerned none the less. I called for Domnul Mann who oversees different activities which operate out of the center. Come to find out this homeless man actually plays the piano and tunes them. Later Andrei told me that we've given to him through the cantina program, and he just wants to give something back.
I would love to capture forever the look on this homeless man's face as he sat down to play that piano! The sheer joy that radiated from his eyes was incredible as his bony fingers danced delicately across the keys with such precision! Andrei played all sorts of tunes, from "Jingle Bells" to Broadway hits, classical pieces and Sacred songs. The touch, the rhythm, the way he flowed from one piece to another told me Andrei had been trained and most likely had been a professional pianist. To look at this couple on the streets is to see homelessness at its worst. To see this man transformed as he sits at the piano is to know there resides a spirit in him that homelessness will never touch.
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My curiosity gets the best of me at times and so I had to ask Andrei more about himself and how he got into this homeless condition. I found him at the piano in the dining room, playing it and tuning it by ear. "Andrei," I began, "how long have you been playing the piano?" He smiled at the thought and with sun browned hands he gestured like he was touching the top of a toddler's head, "Oh, since I was four years old," he smiled and kept on "tweaking" the piano. He told me that all his schooling was geared toward music and he went on to study music in a university. He has taught music, composed music, and has even been a director. It was because of his son's misuse of funds coupled with a school not renewing his contract in 2000 that he became homeless. Andrei said that to keep his son from going to prison, they had to sell their house in another city to cover the son's debt. He did go on to say, "I have friends, musician friends from university days that my wife and I stay with periodically, to shower and sleep."
My eyes fell to the toothless Varvara. It was then I noticed that Varvara's left arm looked askew. The hand sits at an almost 90 degree angle inward from the wrist. I assume she had broken her wrist at one time and it has never been set properly. Varvara is such a slight woman, short, gray hair pushed back off her sun darkened face, her small, alabaster blue eyes twinkled brightly, as she sat delicately behind Andrei, grinning with pride and drank in the magnificent music her husband began to play.
Wanting to record Andrei playing the piano, I set up a tape player one day after our meal, "shushed" every one to quiet down, pushed the play/record button and for about ½ an hour we were enthralled with a marvelous, uninterrupted concert. Even Fr. David got into the act, singing some of the tunes that Andrei played. Finally, with a flourishing crescendo, Andrei finished the concert and we all burst into applause. It was then that I got up to play back the tape, only to realize that this tape player has NO MICROPHONE! I was so red-faced! The play/record button is to tape music from the radio or CD, but not externally! How embarrassing!! So, I borrowed a tape player/recorder WITH a built-in mic for the next day and a repeat performance.
I have to take the things people tell us with a grain of salt and realize that some stories we are regaled with, particularly from the homeless, generally fall somewhere in the middle. I can't be certain how much of Andrei's hard luck story is true or how much is fabricated. Monday, Varvara showed up at the cantina alone. I asked her where Andrei was. I had been worried about them all weekend since they weren't there for lunch on Friday. Varvara told us that she and Andrei had split up and that she didn't know if he would be coming back to the cantina. This was the only story she offered. I'm hoping and praying we'll run across him somewhere on the streets and we can then get more of the story.
Ligia is a young lady who comes every day to the cantina to take food home to her husband who lost both his legs to a disease. Ligia speaks English, is very quiet and has the saddest eyes. She pulled me aside during our first week and asked if I could help get her husband a new wheelchair. Seems the one he has is broken. Talking about getting her husband a new wheelchair brought back memories from a couple of years ago when we acquired one for another young man, Csaby. In fact, I asked Ligia if she knew of the hospital in Zorilor, an area in Cluj where we obtained the chair for Csaby. She assured me that she did and that her husband was on the "list" at that hospital for a new wheelchair, but the soonest he will be able to get one is in August. I sighed and told her that I'd see if there was anything I could do to help.
I simply could not get Ligia's request off my heart, so I gave Craig Goodwin a call. Craig and Victoria are dear friends and missionaries with the OCMC here in Cluj since 1996. I remembered that Craig told me that he knew where some wheelchairs were stashed. I told him of my quest for Ligia's husband. Alas, he wasn't able to help, but another friend and fellow OCMC missionary, Floyd Frantz told me that a young man named Radu Chindris might be able to help. I knew Radu from feeding the a couple of years ago, and gave him a call. Low and behold, Radu had a wheelchair that Ligia's husband could borrow until they get the wheelchair they're waiting for from the hospital. Whew! What a round about way to help just one person! So without any fanfare, Ligia and I hoisted a nice, new wheelchair out of the trunk of my car and after giving me a hug, Ligia walked off, pushing the wheelchair destined for her husband. The next day, Ligia pulled me aside and told me, "My husband sends you a kiss." I hugged her and said that I was glad we could help.
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Iutca and Stefan continue to be permanent fixtures at the cantina. Stefan and I have a game we play. It took all I could do to get 10 year old Stefan to wash his dirty, little hands before he sat down to eat. After some coaxing he finally agreed to wash WITH soap! Of course I have to "oohhh" and "ahhh" as he sticks his hands in my face to be admired. "Ohhh, Stefan, I can see my face in them they're so clean!" I exclaim. He giggles happily at the attention. Sometimes I have to send him back to the sink to wash once again and I'll grab the soap and proceed to soap down his hands and arms as well. Actually, I'd like to get his whole body under a shower! But for now, I'll have to settle for hands and arms. Stefan's smile is contagious, and there's definite mischief all over him. But he's also full of hugs and kisses. Sometimes I have to pry his fingers from around my waist as he presses his body against me to be hugged. I can't get over what a character his mother is. Cristina ran into Iutca recently at a bus stop and Iutca proceeded to loudly proclaim all her needs to poor Cristina. She told me that all eyes turned to them as Iutca listed her complaints about her life in general.
Many of the homeless wear all of the clothing they own on their backs at all times. Hence the dream to one day have a shower and laundry facility operating for the benefit of some of the people who come to the cantina. Imagine if you can, not being able to shower for days on end, and even when you do have the luxury of taking a bath, you have to put on the same dirty clothing that you've been wearing on a daily basis. The feeling alone would be, shall I use the word "icky" to say the least. And no, there are no laundrymats in Cluj. There are public showers, but dirty clothing on a clean body? That's the only option for the homeless.
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The people who come to the cantina are becoming quite familiar to us. We're getting to know about their lives and everyone's little quirks. If I don't see a face that should be there, it sends up a little alarm in me. New people are coming weekly and quickly become part of us. And under the surface of some of these people we're finding there are diamonds waiting to shine through.
YES! Andrei showed up today at the cantina, with Varvara. He said he had been working in a bar, playing the piano. I don't know what happened with the "split" between them because Andrei and Varvara seemed like the couple they were the day we met them. I told Andrei we were so glad to see him again and he seemed right at home in the cantina.
We're still working out some of the "kinks" in the cantina schedule. We've had to write up a list rules and we've made up cards that everyone must have with them when they come. I'm certain that over the weeks and months, other things will have to be ironed out, but all in all, and by God's grace, we are coming up to the end of our very first month of being opened. What an honor this has been for me to be able to break bread with such special people God has brought our way.
Pray for the cantina, pray for Romania.
Cu mult drag. . .
(With much love. . .)
Zan