Children's Stories
Veronica Serbov, 21
My name is Veronica and I entered the Romanian child care system at the age of 2 and stayed until I was 17.
My mother is from Moldova and my father from somewhere near Moscow. My father's family had settled in Sulina, in the Tulcea district. He was a fisherman, which earned him a good living and owned his own home, whereas my mother came from a large family and was very poor. My father's family never accepted my mother, and she began drinking in order to blot this out.
We were constantly neglected and our relatives kept calling the social workers, and eventually we ended up in placement centres in Tulcea. We were only around 2 years old. My brother and sister were placed elsewhere, while I was taken to a pre-school institution. Back then keeping brothers and sisters together was not a priority, as it is now.
The placement centres were dreadful. I remember being beaten up. The rules were harsh. It's nothing like that now, but back then there was a lot of violence, vulgarity, even promiscuity. We were often beaten by older girls. Overcrowding was common; although the centre was huge there were around 250-300 children kept there.
The staff were overwhelmed by the number of children in their care. Even those who tried hard were not up to the challenge and so the law of the jungle prevailed. Older children exploited or beat up the younger children, and when we got older we behaved the same. The staff either couldn't or wouldn't address the problem so it became a fight for survival. Children grew up, some left, others replaced them, but this system prevailed.
There were only two or three supervisors to look after so many children and we never got to know any of them very much. They were there to be obeyed and that was all. My happiest memories are of the long periods of time which we could use to play. There was no strict schedule and when we came back from school, we rushed through our homework and went out to play in the enormous courtyard.
Younger children had no personal belongings or their own locker. There was an enormous room, which only the staff had access to, were all our clothes were piled up together. Every other day we had take our clothes there and put each piece in the respective pile. If you lost a piece of clothing you were not given any back. The youngest children often lost clothes or had them stolen. All the clothes were washed together and afterwards redistributed randomly. You wore a shirt one day and in two weeks' time you saw it on another child.
When you are old enough to leave the centre you step outside, look left and right and have no idea which road to take. You feel lost. We were completely ignorant. We had no mother, no staff member to advice us, no one to cling to. We went out completely ignorant and unskilled. We weren't even able to cook for ourselves, or clean our own clothes. Out of the system many of us sought any kind of refuge. Some tried to get married because we had no skills to live on our own.
In Tulcea, the first social apartments were opened a lot later than in Bucharest. I lived in one of those apartments for two years. Here at least you learn to cook and clean, although the distance between the children and the staff members seems to be same. Or maybe we were already grown ups and not able to adjust to these new conditions.
Children living in placement centres, especially in the past, develop a sort of emotional protective shield around themselves. No-one is allowed in.
Having lived for such a long time in a placement centre, I grew up with a certain mentality. In all six centres where I stayed I tried as hard as I could to adapt. If I seemed to them a bit different, they rejected me. Nobody ever forgets what they've been through. That you cannot forget. Those times have rooted themselves deeply inside me. I don't understand the difference between affection towards various persons and parental love. That's because I never knew parental love.
But taking up a sport – martial arts – somehow saved me. It gave me a way to prove to those people who thought that I was a nobody and an aimless loser that they were wrong. It was a revelation for me and everyone else. I don't think anyone has ever strived so hard to be a district champion in two weeks, a national champion in two months and a world champion in two years.
My coach was amazing and gave me a lot more attention that the centre staff ever did. Initially I started martial arts because I wanted to put an end to being beaten up all the time in the centre. But in time, when I became a martial arts champion I realised this wasn't just an ambition, this was something I had a talent for. I began to wonder if I could turn professional. What I took this higher, joined a better club, find out what I was capable of? It helped me take control.
I'm still not sure how I was able to win the Edelweiss talent contest (a national event open to children in state care). I think back to all those wonderful children, full of talent and determination – they all wanted to win. I remember staring at the medals hanging around their necks and I thought I had no chance. But I knew if I didn't win I would be letting down all the other people at my centre. I had to prove I was the best. I wanted to prove I was as good as I claimed to be and I think that gave me the necessary strength to succeed.
The Edelweiss contest is a good chance for children to overcome the stigma of being within the child protection system. Edelweiss is a proof for the community that these children are normal, that they are important and skilled.
Currently I am employed by an express courier firm. My colleagues tell me I am the only female bicycle courier in Romania. I am also in my last year of high school. I want to graduate. I want to have some options in life. I may enroll in college for media studies – if I pass the entrance exam – as ultimately my dream is to end up working in an advertising agency.