Moldova

Alright Everyone!

Since starting this blog back in January, I have mostly focused on fashion which is only right considering that this is a fashion blog.

However...

I recently went on a volunteer trip to Moldova. It was one of the most shocking and yet one of the most incredible weeks of my life and just to be cliche- it has changed my life forever. I would like share my thoughts on one of the experiences I had whilst in Moldova, this was decorating the home of a girl who lived on the outskirts of a city called Balti. We spent two days with her and it may not sound like much but it felt like we had become part of the community in just that short period of time.

So just for something different, something a little bit more serious and perhaps thought inducing, I wrote an article and would like to share it with you. A pre-warning, it's quite long but I hope that you enjoy and I shall see you very soon!

Visiting Moldova was not a school trip- it was a shock.

It sounded like a school trip- ten students and two teachers going out to a European country to visit those who live there as part of a volunteering trip with Christian Aid, “an experience you will never forget”, said the many people who saw me before I boarded the plane and set off.

But this European country was not Greece, Italy or France- developed and modern. Nestled between the Ukraine and Romania, Moldova is the poorest country in Europe. Since recovering its independence from the USSR, Moldova has become a market-based economy resulting in rapid modernization. However despite this it remains an agricultural society with consistent un-even growth, which has led to the rapid deterioration of living conditions and incomes throughout the country. 

The result of this economic downfall is extreme poverty, something I didn't fully understand when I thought about the adventure in my air-conditioned room, on my memory foam mattress. I knew of its poverty and the cause but I had yet to comprehend it.

As the twelve of us drove away from Chinsu airport toward the city of Balti- our home for the next week, we were greeted with high rise flats, half-built with smashed-in- windows, stray dogs sniffing the crumbling pavements and weak- roofed shacks lining the outskirts of the city. 

Moldova was in a desperate state.

We had, before setting off raised over £2000 through various events such as car washing, bag packing and tea mornings. We had also been briefed on how we would be making a difference and had been split into teams for each day. We would be volunteering firstly by decorating two homes of two women who both lived in the impoverished outskirts of Balti.

My team of five, were to be helping a young woman who had lived in the same room her whole life, inheriting it from her grandmother after her death. . It was with the money we raised that she was able to have a bathroom and running water, so already before beginning the project I felt a connection to her through the outcome of our efforts of the past 9 months.

The week I had in store didn't fully hit me until we got onto the public bus, [Que travel sickness] and after ten minutes of a terrifying drive feeling like we were about to fly through the window screen  we arrived at the bus stop, a short walk from our destination. As we wandered down this beaten up parched lane; a home emerged hidden by washing. It was as if we had entered a different world, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, a dusty shanty town materialized. This was when the sheer scale of hardship faced by the Moldovan people began to dawn on me- I had to keep reminding myself that this was someone’s home, not a shack in the African commercial appeals I see on the TV every day.

Yet, have you ever heard an advertising campaign about Moldova?

No? I thought so.

Except these are the people we should be helping- they are fellow Europeans and need our aid.

However despite the run-down appearance, as the five of us entered the house we noticed that it held a quaint atmosphere- a humble abode with the owner bustling around inside, trying to prepare for our arrival. The children from the nearby houses were hiding behind the gate watching these foreign strangers with fascination, giggling quietly to themselves. The daughter, upon seeing us ran back inside excitedly, re-emerging a few minutes later hugging a teddy almost the same size as her to her chest, smiling shyly from behind it. It was at this moment when the façade of Moldova as ‘the poorest country in Europe’, crumbled. Instead of shock at the deprivation and poverty I was so unaccustomed to, a warm glow began to fill me as I came to realise, that I was in one of the happiest and most community-orientated countries in Europe- surrounded by the most modest and grateful people I had ever met. They had so little compared to us yet they were far more grateful than I had ever been.

This in a sense was the larger of the shocks.

The vine I drew

It made me feel angry at myself for being so selfish and I decided in that moment, standing in the doorway on my lunch break that my attitude to life and belongings would have to change- I can’t quite believe the sheer amount of ‘stuff’ we Westerners own and yet how little we appreciate it. The water in the tap, the central heating in our homes and the electricity cabals running under our floorboards, yet when we are walking over our nice carpeted sitting room are we savouring the warmth between our toes like it could disappear at any moment?

Nope. We are just walking because we don’t care. To us it is nothing.

Yet, when the second day dawned and the white emulsion began to cover the dark plaster, this for the owner was something and by lunch the woodland scene she had asked for began to take shape; the vibrant green grass and picturesque blue sky began to emerge. For me the happiest moment was being asked to draw some flowers and a tree for her walls- that she trusted me enough to permanently ingrain my artwork into her wall felt like the highest praise.

One of the flowers which decorated the walls

Whilst putting the finishing touches to the tree’s blossom, I looked around me at everyone busy painting and cleaning and I smiled to myself. Our team had made a difference, all the heavy lifting, arm-aching painting and dust-induced coughing was nothing compared to the pride which swept through me at having improved the lives of this woman and her daughter. By giving up two days of our lives we had transformed someone else’s for years to come.

The finished tree 

In just those two days we had become part of the community, teaching the children the song ‘a sailor go’s to sea, sea, sea’, having a picnic outside the house,  watching the sun set over the town and receiving praise from the visiting neighbors when the room was finished. I felt satisfied that the spacious white walls and colourful woodland scene had replaced the damp, dingy and peeling wallpaper- that my tree and flowered vines would remain on the wall for years to come.

If someone had asked me whether I would be sat here now, writing this and wishing I could be back there, I would not have believed them. But that week in July changed my life forever, I came home full of life, pride and even amazement at what the 12 of us had achieved in just one week. If there is just one message which I could with you, having babbled on for the last 15 to 20 minutes, is that these people really do need your help.

And do you know what?

They deserve it.

Take it from me.