Dear Friends,

I begin with a photo of Taras who died several weeks ago on the streets. My first photos of Taras go back about two years. Even then he couldn't talk or walk properly because of a drug which damages the nervous system, causing neuropothy. Taras was a long time user of Baltushka, a drug made from cold medicine that contains ephedrim, vinegar and potassium permanganate. They stir these three things together in a small plastic cup , draw it into a needle and inject it into a vein. Taras had it injected into a vein near his collar bone; it was an artery to the heart. His heart stopped.

I arrived back in Ukraine a week ago to +2C temperatures and was surprised to see many people on the streets and at the train station wearing masks. Swine flu hysteria. Schools are all closed for the next three weeks, public gatherings canceled. The government is contemplating a restriction of travel. Pharmacies have run out of masks and medicine. There are signs on pharmacy windows: NO MASKS OR MEDICINE (but in Russian, of course). I think Ukraine is asking for international aid. How great is the real threat, I don't think anyone knows.
With temperatures just above freezing, the city had still not turned on the gas to heat water, to heat apartment buildings throughout Odessa. I asked when the heat would be turned on, someone in the office said, "They are waiting until it gets REALLY cold."

We still attended a bicycle rally, though, the first for kids at The Way Home. From Odessa, about 50 cyclists participated. See photos below. Four of our boys rode and since there was a requirement for a girl. Alyona, our youngest, age 11, also rode. Seconds after I shot this photo of her coming down a hill, she pulled the front hand brake and went over the handle bars. All was well, though we couldn't get her back on the bike for that particular race.

I'm so pleased with Vanya, the boy you see in the white t-shirt and helmet. He is only 18, lived on the streets for a time and then came to us. Currently he is enrolled in a class at a local maritime academy; Im not sure of his vocational choice, but he will graduate with the ability to work for a living wage. i started buying used bicycles and he has been the force behind the success of my bicycle project. He's full of energy. You see him here working on a bike.

This photo of Ann with two boys was taken at a Narcotics Rehab center. Currently, I am paying for medicine that will help repair neurological damage done by use of a drug called Baltushka. This damage makes it difficult for kids to speak and to walk. Studies have shown that some motor skills can be revived with medicine. For me this is a one-time project. I am hoping if I am successful with these two boys, who have been off Baltushka for over a year, that another funding program in Ukraine will take on additional teens.

Will is a volunteer from Cambridge University in England; he speaks Russian and is doing the translation work for Ann and Alla. He is helping to connect This Child Here with Russian speaking volunteers from universities in England.

Leah, another volunteer, comes from the Portland area (Reed College) and has worked with SOIL in Hati, Mercy Corps in Portland, and for the UN Food and Agriculture Organization in DC. She is in Odessa, teaching English and also learning Russian as well as helping us as a volunteer. She’s a wizard with web site construction and editing.

Through a sermon I wrote and other contacts, I recently met on-line, Allen Hingston, a Canadian living in Ukraine, who describes himself as: "Father, husband, agricultural consultant, beef cattle specialist, dog owner, reluctant gardener, amateur photographer, history buff and wandering soul who has at last found home and happiness in Ukraine."

You may enjoy his blog:

http://dablogfodder.blogspot.com/2009/11/working-with-street-kids-in-odessa.html
What follows are just a few shots of my time in the states,

-a person you don't often see photos of: Nancy Gard. Nancy is an elder of the First Presbyterian Church of Daytona Beach, is the Vice President of This Child Here, handles all donations and paperwork.

-the historic sanctuary at the Newnan Presbyterian church in Newnan, Georgia
-the more modern sanctuary of Calvin Presbyterian Church in Tigard, Oregon,
-after coffee with Danny Dieth of Christ Presbyterian Church, Tallahassee, Florida, a pastor who has been to Russia.

-these pink flamingos were part of a fund raising project of Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church in Asheville, NC. The youth placed them (no they are not real) in the yard of one family in the church and that family can give a donation to have them moved to someone else's yard. (actually, you pay to get rid of them :-)

-a common scene, me online at Paneras.... this time studying Russian with online flash cards.

-the photo exhibition in Farmington, NM. This exhibition was arranged by Tina and Linda Pacheco. Tina also arranged newspaper and television interviews and three interviews on local radio programs. The exhibit was held at their business, Homeworks, as part of an Art Walk Day in Farmington. Most of my time is spent speaking at churches, this was the first photo exhibition in the states for This Child Here.

-on the radio in Farmington, NM

-I always end my time in the states with my sons in Asheville, NC.
Grace and Peace,

Robert Gamble

the last shot of Taras




















working on bikes
















Kolya















seconds later, Alyona tumbles



















someone must have fallen...Vanya?
















Vanya














These guys are professional
















recovering from Baltushka


















Will from Cambridge



















Leah from Portland



















with Nancy Gard















Newnan Pres in Newnan, Georgia















Calvin Pres in Tigard, Oregon















With Danny Deith















Pink Flamingos raise funds








studying Russian in Paneras















photo exhibition in Farmington, NM
















on the radio in Farmington, NM















with my sons and friends:

For those trying to make sense of life: What does a bad day on the streets, Ingmar Bergman, and John Calvin have in common?

What do a bad day and a good day on the streets, an Ingmar Bergman film and John Calvin all have in common?


1When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity (Love).


To match the film title, I chose the King James Version.


My life is not divided into work and play. I don't spend all day in the office or even working, but life appears seamless in this work with street kids in Ukraine, all things happening in relation to one another.

Not long ago, three things happened that got me thinking…. A fourth pulled them together.
One of the lowest moments of my time in Odessa, Ukraine, came on a warm August day, with the rain; strange it should not come in winter with the cold and gray…. We all felt the heaviness of it, me and my small team of volunteers from Poland, Italy and Ukraine, hardly speaking about it on the return in the bus. We had just seen a group of kids living on mattresses under trees, injecting themselves several times a day with Baltushka, a wicked narcotic that damages the central nervous system.

Hopelessness, like a wet dog, seems attached to this band of teens who do not care if they live or die.

For several days after I was depressed about it, resigned to the absurdity of our visits and the truth that some kids on the street are "terminally ill," because they will not give up the drugs or the way of life.

Later that week, I was watching a film. It is an old film, one I had not seen before, Ingmar Bergman’s “Through a Glass Darkly” The title of it comes, of course, from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 13, "Now I see through a glass darkly, then face to face, now I know in part, then I shall be fully known."

And at end comes this scene….. Karin , the mentally unstable daughter has been taken to the hospital suffering from a breakdown which the psychologists say will only get worse. Karin’s brother, the son, is speaking to their father.

Son: Reality burst open and tumbled out, do you understand?
Father: Yes
Son: It’s like a dream, anything can happen, anything
Father: I know
Son: I can’t live in this world
Father: Yes you can, but you must have something to hold on to.
Son: What would that be? A God? Give me some proof of God. You can’t,
Father: Yes I can, but you have to listen carefully
Son: Yes I need to listen
Father: I can give you only a hint of my own hope. It’s knowing that love exists in the world.
Son: A special kind of love I suppose.
Father: All kinds, the highest and lowest, the most absurd and the most sublime, all kinds of love.
Son: The longing for love?
Father: The longing and denial, trust and distrust.
Son: So love is the proof?
Father: I don’t know if love is the proof of god’s existence or if love is God himself.
Son: For you love and God are the same?
Father: That thought helps me in my emptiness and dirty despair.
Son: Tell me more Papa
Father: Suddenly the emptiness turns into abundance and despair into life, it’s like a reprieve … from a death sentence.
Son: If it is as you say, then Karin (his sister) is surrounded by God since we love her,
Father: Yes.

It wasn’t the part about God is love that struck me. Everyone has heard that. And I don't wish to enter the debate over whether God is just love. It was the idea that all kinds of love, the highest, the lowest, the most absurd and sublime, the longing for love, the denial of love, trust and distrust… all these things are evidence of God. And somehow in the acceptance of that, the realization of that, emptiness turns into abundance, despair into life.

The following week I opened my email to read a bulletin from Columbia seminary inviting me to join the online dialogue on John Calvin. Just click the link.

What could be more exciting than a chat room on John Calvin?

You probably don't know it’s the 500th anniversary of Calvin’s birth. One of the founding fathers of the protestant reformation, he taught John Scott who started Presbyterianism in Scotland… the Scotts brought it over here, along with a certain stiff drink , … and golf.

So you know how it is when you receive an email with a link. Do I click the link or not? My cursor hovered for a moment. I clicked. And I read several blogs along with the commentary that was offered each week by Calvin scholars.

I began to wonder what would Calvin say about the church in Ukraine.

Were Calvin to be a tourist in Ukraine, he would be wagging his bearded head, glaring at the images of god in the Orthodox church. Calvin abhorred images that represented God. Icons on the dash boards of taxis, hanging from the mirrors; Icons like bumper stickers; Icons the size of decals, the size of book covers, or painted on vast canvases or the walls and ceilings of domed churches.

Or the furniture: Calvin was more austere, the strictly Calvinistic sanctuary has nothing on the walls, the biggest thing there (metaphorically speaking) is the Bible. I imagine it furnished by Ikea. Even the communion set is minimal; Calvin’s looks like it came from Dollar General.

The Orthodox Church is a place to escape the world and meditate or feel like you are in the presence of God given all the gold around you, the icons and paintings on the walls and the priest who appears from behind a golden door to chant and recite then disappear again. The aim of orthodoxy is to make you more like God, to transform you to be more like the transcendent God. But the Orthodox church seems to have little relevance to the practicalities of the real world. I see people lined up for a blessing, that is, to get their food blessed at 5am on Easter Sunday… I see them buying candles and scarves for their heads and trinkets, but I don’t see much in the way of engagement with the world. Don’t show up in pants if you’re a woman (well Calvin might have said that too.

Calvin may not have been the kind of guy you are going to find having a beer with the boys at TG Friday's, but Calvin was socially involved. He brought cleaner toilets to Geneva, and balconies and better dentists … he opened the doors of Geneva to a parade of refugees from France. (read: Calvin the Constructive Revolutionary).

Calvin was a lawyer. He seemed consumed with what makes us right before God. And Calvin may have landed heavily on the side of God's election of those who are "the saved" against the party in favor or "works righteousness," but Calvin saw God at work in all of life. Calvin affirmed "all things work together...." Writing his way through the Institutes, wrestling with the debate between what we do and what God does, Calvin affirmed the Sovereignty of God. Calvin wanted his faith to matter in the market place as well as the sanctuary, on the streets and in the homes of God's people as well as in any Sunday school room. Broken and flawed as we are, it is our lives, not icons that reflect the image of God.

Now, I am going to conclude with a fourth thing that happened... this again on the streets. Because it seems to me to pull together that low moment on the streets, Bergman's film and the blog on Calvin.

I am thinking of the day on the streets when we found two girls age eleven and twelve living with this band of heavy drug users I mentioned above. These girls had not been experimenting with drugs, which is why I was so eager to get them away. I called my psychologist and put her on my cell phone with them. That conversation, some food and clothes were enough to motivate them to ride in the van to our dormitory--and there they stayed.

They don't know it. They are just little kids. It would not have been that week, or even the next. The next month, perhaps.... certainly in the next year... They would started with the needle. And then they would have been HIV positive. That status over here, for kids on the street, leads to an early death.

What they don't know, is that in a moment's decision to leave the streets, they chose life.
When I think about this moment, I am glad there exists all kinds of love: the highest to the lowest, the most sublime and absurd, for the longing for love and denial of it. Whenever I see these girls, I think about their reprieve from a death sentence, I think how quickly this memory helps me in my own emptiness and despair, how it is this emptiness turns into abundance and despair into life.

grace and peace,
Robert Gamble

august news

www.thischildhere.org

















Dear Friends,

On a wet Friday afternoon in August, I saw the worst of it: We had come by ourselves in a bus and not in the “Social Patrol” van as we usually do. There were six of us: Ann, my translator and assistant; Claudio, the Italian; two polish girls recently out of college; Alex, a college student from Holland, and myself. We came upon them from the other side of a wall: a small band of five boys and one girl living next to a tall, concrete wall, gathered like wounded soldiers under a tree.

I looked first, standing on my toes on a board, placed there by them to crawl over. With one arm I hooked the wall and with the other hand I held my heavy camera high and began making images without looking through the lens. ”Robert, no photo,” they said, and I knew it was because they were using the Baltushka.

The wall was not difficult to scale, but I took care because of the rain and wetness. I was careful also because I had injured my shoulder and left arm in a bicycle accident, and the grasp of any object sent pain from my elbow up and down my arm. I climbed over first, then Ann, Claudio and Alex. The polish girls walked some two hundred meters to find a break in it and then back across an empty lot to where we gathered.

Lena, the girl, and three of the boys sat on the mattresses, the rain coming down lightly, not like earlier when it fell in a steady shower. Their blankets were wet and mixed with the dead branches and leaves of the tree; beneath the mattresses and branches, the dirt was turning to mud. There in the dirt and mud, fallen through the branches I saw the empty plastic bottles and wrappers for food, discarded needles and syringes. I saw t-shirts and pants hung on branches in the rain; I saw a large sheet of plastic taken perhaps from a local building site. They could have held it over their heads but they did not; they did not care.

One boy, Tolik lay, his pants half down to his crotch, readying himself with the needle in his hand for when we would leave. Then he would slide it into the thick vein on his upper thigh, and Lena or Miroslav would attach the syringe and drive in the Baltushka. “I am finished,” he said, looking up at Ann.

“I am using Baltushka ten or twelve times a day,” Lena said to Ann, as they sat together later when the rain came in spits and the sun burned between the clouds. I stood first at a distance, photographing the group, but the tree blocked my view, so I climbed a mound of dirt and stood some six or seven feet above the group and shot the kids as well as the volunteers who came. Then I came in closer. They were not shooting the Baltushka, but they had the needles in their hands and I could see they were looking around as if to convey some impatience with our being there.

For the Polish girls and Alex it was their first time to see boys and girls living on the streets. They moved carefully, standing at first a little apart, and then moving in to squat on the dirt and blocks of concrete. They could speak some Russian and began conversations with the boys and Lena.

I lose all sense of time in these situations when I am photographing and conversing and thinking of what to do. It could have been ten minutes or thirty before we decided to buy food and juice for them and some antibacterial ointment for one boy with a gash in his head. We parted promising to return.

We walked across the concrete and mud expanse of the lot, through the break in the wall, to the food stand first where we bought two liters of mixed juice, bags of fat brown cookies; we had already given them water and bread. At the pharmacy, the girl recognized me from times before buying medicine. She told us of a priest named Michael who also came to buy medicine for this band of homeless youth.

As we approached the wall again to pass over the food and medicine, I could see through the spaces between concrete slabs. One boy held another’s arm with the needle inside. I centered the viewfinder so that the automatic focusing would spot the needle and the arm, leaving the walls out of focus on both side. But he moved so that I got only his face and a cigarette; I had made only one frame before my batteries died.

Now my schedule in the states for the fall of 2009

Aug 31- Sept 9 Central and North Florida
Sept 10 Atlanta
Sept 11-14 Ft. Worth Tx
Sept 14-21 Portland Or
Sept 21 Atlanta
Sept 22 Birmingham Al
Sept 23 Athens Ga
Sept 24 Reidsville, NC
Sept 25-28 Washington DC area
Sept 29 Wellington Fl
Sept 30 Vero Beach Fl
Oct 1 St. Pete Fl
Oct 2 Daytona Beach Fl
Oct 3-4 Newnan Ga
Oct 4 Decatur Ga
Oct 5-7 Memphis Tn
Oct 8-10 Farmington NM
Oct 10-11 New Orleans
Oct 12-19 Asheville NC
Oct 19 Fly back to Ukraine

There are also photos from Camp and pictures of volunteers from Holland, Poland, Estonia. Claudio from Italy, came back for most of the summer, brought his brother, Duchio, and also 3,200 euros raised at a rock concert he orgainized last summer in sienna , italy.

Another volunteer, Igor, an American, adopted from St. Petersburg, Russia at age 8, is great to have because he speaks some Russian. He's a former Marine, having served two tours in Iraq. He now studies International Relations in Aberdeen, Scotland.

Tanya Foltz also came, she's from DC. She looked at the problem of violence against women, met with women interested and designed an instrument for interviewing women who have been abused. It is sad and remarkable that in a city the size of Odessa, there is not one shelter for abused women. Eleanor Clegg came from Wales to do an art project using only material from nature.

In one photo I show you Olya, who ran away from us last year. it's a long story but she's back. In another you see me and a family and a boy with a crutch. There is a young woman also. That's Gallina, the former Ms. Odessa. This was the first partnership between This Child Here and local business people. We split the cost of a new prosthesis (leg) for Sasha. in one photo, I am trying to explain the next shot.

Finally, those aren't my hands and finger... or my ears.

grace and peace,
Robert

the group at camp


bicycles


alex from Holland













up on the top right is where kids are living

July News

to see homepage click:ww.thischildhere.org

Take a look at these photos of Alyona age 11, and Diana age 12, two girls I found on the streets.

They were staying with some kids who are heavy drug users. That was June 10th. They said, they had been on the streets about 4 months. They have probably known street kids for longer. After getting them on the phone with my psychologist , Alla, I invited them to visit the shelter (The Way Home). They agreed and got in the van. After a much repeated, “Are we there yet” we arrived and, to my surprise, they stayed. Farther down at the end of the photos, there is a photo of me with them at camp. It’s hard to describe the feeling of success when it happens because you are so afraid that the next day they will run away, but no, they are still with us. Soon it will be a month.

Listen to this all you medical professionals out there: Lena, pictured left, was back in the hospital. Again with a blood infection and low blood count, so low the doctor said she might need blood. “Do you have a blood bank?” I asked.

“Yes but the blood is not good…do you know anyone who would donate,” he asked. I shook my head.

“My nurse, Natasha, has the same type.”

“Do you mean she would give her blood? What would that cost?”

“Three hundred Grievna.” (Or about $40)

“Can I take a picture of your nurse doing this?”

“No, it’s not legal.”

So far Lena has not needed it.

Alma College students (Rick Allen and Sarah Bechtold ) came in June and brought $1000 in cash, plus a bag of t-shirts and sweatshirts. Here they are with Dima who just got his head shaved. Ina, our social worker does it for free when they ask. And here is a line up of kids with shirts, trying to look tough for Alma.

Camp is so much better than last year. We have toilets, showers , running water, trees for shade, the beach 2km away, and a barnyard of animals next door to wake us in the morning. Here are some shots. In one shot, you see a boy from Moldovia. Four came to camp this summer, but sadly, all four ran away.











































Here is an unusual photo: me in my Coast Guard Academy cadet drill uniform. I never dreamed I would wear it again. But when I gave it as a gift to a local Maritime academy, they insisted I wear it and speak at graduation. About 250 graduates stood in the hot sun for a lineup of speakers, so I think I had 5 minutes. And after, many cadets wanted their pictures with me. The uniform still fits.

The final shot takes some explaining. Yesterday I sat down at about 3pm and began planning my trip in Sept-Oct to the states. Each post-it is a day with a place to be. Trying to match places and times, appointments already made, and get everywhere with a minimal airfare and driving time, takes some time. At 9:30 pm i think i have a plan. There's the dinner i made, my russian books; that white thing with a cable attached gives me internet anywhere in Odessa, even at camp. And, yes that's Enya in the CD.

Grace and peace,

Robert Gamble