Almost by popular request, I am posting a 'taster' of some of my experiences. I have almost made up my mind not to publish the account in a diary form which was my original intention - I have to juggle the need to communicate the streetchild's situation whilst trying to preserve their anonymity and dignity.

 

I called in to one of the kid's shelters early one morning to find the aftermath of a police beating. The two machine-gun wielding policemen had called the sleeping kids out of their part-collapsed cellar. The kids were to stand, head-down, hands by their sides and wait for the blow. The policemen swung their rubber batons baseball-bat style to launch the kids through the air. The kids are then expected to stand back up, head-down, hands by sides to await the next blow. If they couldn't stand the policemen became enraged and stamped on them where they lay. Eventually the policemen stopped, probably through a mixture of exhaustion and boredom, and simply strolled away. These are children !    That morning I tended to the cuts, grazes and huge bruises, I tried to ease the pain of the broken ribs.  The kids hate policemen with an intensity that has to be seen to be believed, that morning I understood why.

Content and fed

I was helping one kid in a wheelchair put on a warm jacket I had bought when I was stopped and document checked by the police for maybe the third time that day. All of kids that were in the area were made to empty their pockets onto a nearby step. Their whole life's possessions were spread out. One policeman sifted through the items with his foot and suddenly made to stamp on the boys' things. It was an urgent shout from his colleague, nodding at me, that stopped the boot smashing down. They suddenly realised that they had nearly shown a european a side of Romania that should not be seen. To justify what had nearly happened - these two 6 foot+ men armed with machine guns, pistols and batons then tried to explain how dangerous these children are to them