Polish volunteer helps former homeless find their place in life
Mykhailo did not want to talk with me; he almost told me to just go away. I was offended and acted accordingly, although I had the presence of mind to keep it to myself. Nina read my expression and said to please not be angry with him: he simply cannot understand why no one has bought the sideboard he spent so much time making. She said the two of us could talk instead, that she also had an interesting life story rating a novel, even a television series better than [Moscow’s] Poor Nastia. Only several years back, she had been a married woman, with a job and her own apartment. Then everything collapsed at once. Her husband had died, and she wanted to exchange her apartment for a smaller one, entrusting friends with making the arrangements, but they betrayed her, and she found herself in a smaller apartment, only to discover that she had no legal title to it. Her previous apartment had already been sold. She couldn’t bring the matter to court and eventually found herself on the street. She had spent some time as a run-of-the-mill homeless person and took to the bottle. Then she found the Oselia Community, a blessing in disguise. Now she had a family and many near and dear ones, people she felt really cared for and needed her. She was now a cook with that community, fully aware of her important responsibilities.
Nina smiled happily and wanted to add something, but at that instant the gavel was brought down with a distinct bang (SOLD!) , so I had to run to see what was the next lot at that remarkable auction, where every item put up for sale had been restored by homeless people’s hands. Rather, yesterday’s homeless, currently members of the Oselia [Abode] Benevolent Community, located in a suburb of Lviv, on former monastic premises.
The next item on display was a Hutsul chest dating from the early nineteenth century, said to have been black at the beginning, never looking its real self, now put up at the starting price of 600 hryvnias. It was sold to Lviv’s most prominent fashion designer, Oksana Karavanska. The auction at the History Museum was so popular that she had attended, even though with a fractured leg secured by Ilizarov’s device. She had to stand, as all seats were occupied. It was painful, so her husband bought an antique chair, to which those present responded with an applause, feeling happy for Oksana or maybe for the craftsman that had put so much skill and dedication into that chest; looking at it, now cleaned, boasting every curved surface, was pure aesthetic delight.
What had compelled all those people, only recently enslaved by drugs or alcohol, to use their hands to work such wonders of craftsmanship? As a rule, such individuals suffer the bitter experience of homelessness compounded by another grave social ill, forced idleness, bringing them to the fatal point of no return, making them put up with their miserable lot, no longer even wishing to do anything about it, focusing only on finding a place warm enough to spend the night, hoping to meet someone kind enough to give them something to eat.
They call him Zenek. He is actually Zenon Puscizna, a Polish national, a volunteer, and a professional restorer. He has spent the last ten months teaching Oselia inmates his skills. No, he has not forced anyone to join his training program. How could he, considering that all doors remained open and anyone could quit at any time. He would simply come to the workshop and start working. People around him would first watch him and wonder if he was insane. Eventually, some began to help him. At present, many things can be resurrected from ashes or made anew with their hands.
“They’re so quick to learn! It’s also true that getting such individuals out of their stupor is not easy. Some would just drop the chisel and say they didn’t want to work, period. I could see their hung-over faces and shaking hands. I knew I had to make them comfortable somehow, show them I understood them. It takes a lot of patience and, most importantly, an individual psychological approach,” says Mr.Puscizna.
Mr. Puscizna, you are not paid anything for your work. What makes you spend all this time away from home, working every day without expecting any reward?
Puscizna: “I am here precisely because I expect no remuneration other than people saying thanks for your training; also because I am happy to share their small joys and watch them accomplish something. I can see that this changes them for the better, that they become truly dedicated. Individuals like them are better cared for in Poland, which means that such people need my help here in Ukraine.”
Oksana Dovbush adheres to the same principles. She holds an interesting post as master instructor. She teaches them how to make pieces of furniture in a certain style, explaining how to decorate them and apply the finishing touches. She is very young. and yet she teaches hardened men and women old enough to be her parents and hardened by life, how to understand beauty. Remarkably, she is good at this job.
People supported the Oselia Benevolent Association who had themselves embarked on unbelievable projects, some helping the HIV- infected, others teaching children from alcoholic families to paint and mold. Or take Vyacheslav Chyzhevsky who seated children surviving the Sknyliv tragedy in gliders.
Olesia Sanotska caused a sensation. Imagine a lean young woman, an artist by training, which implies an inherently aesthetic disposition, deciding to take care of vagrants, going through the perils of arranging for their homey accommodations. She and Roman Prochko actually conceived the Oselia idea, after watching the Polish authorities take care of their homeless citizens. Undertaking such a project in Ukraine was difficult, but when work had started everyone realized that that it was actually possible to help others, that one could count on someone else to lend a helping hand while struggling down one’s own lonely path in life. And so they had prepared their innovation project and won the World Bank’s grant. The World Bank will finance their aid to the homeless until June. The Emaus Foundation fixed the sewer system on the premises. The Vynnyky town council provided premises for the workshop, so that now both regular Oselia inmates and residents of Vynnyky and Lviv — people who have found themselves in need — can visit and learn restoration.
One such visitor is Roman, a tall handsome and well-dressed 28-year-old. He is willing to share his life story; he even feels proud of it. At one time he was a wino, yet he has stayed sober for the past four months. And he also feels bitterly disappointed because the chest he bought for 950 hryvnias and then restored with his friend’s help has not been sold at auction. Indeed, he has put so much physical and creative energy in it, working with chisel and paintbrush.
“He visits us to avoid contact with the unwelcome environment, buddies who will yell hello and welcome him to share a bottle with them,” says Oksana, “and here we all stay off the bottle, aggression, and theft. Stealing is punished especially severely.”
That simple? You just impose certain requirements on yourselves, undergo work therapy, and expect people to transform like the Phoenix rising from its ashes?
Olesia: “No, it’s not that simple, of course. Some people come and stay, others quit after a couple of days. Sometimes we’d have to call an ambulance to pick up raving alcoholics and junkies. Oselia is a ten-minute walk from my place and there are times when I have to run over there. On one such occasion all of the inmates had started drinking on the sly; they’d found some metal somewhere and sold it, and bought moonshine. After that it was a snowball. They figured they’d have a swig each and that would be the end of it, as they had been dry for three months. They’d say later they wanted to make sure they’d kicked the habit. Wrong. An alcoholic can’t do that. One drink is followed by another, then the next. So we had to start all over again with them. We have our own psychologist, Oksana Hrynchyshyn, and most our clients are in an Alcoholics Anonymous group. Roman Prochko is conducting a 12-year AA program. That’s the way we live.”
The World Bank’s relief program will be over soon. How will you feed all these people afterward?
Olesia: “The men are already looking for jobs, they’ll take the lowest-paid and hardest ones. We cherish the idea of an adequately equipped carpenter workshop. If we have it, we’ll be able to take commissions. We may have other ideas. You know, there is a kind of solidarity between associations and organizations like ours; we adhere to the vital principle of helping those needing such help in the first place, and the same applies to every member of our community. Every evening we gather to discuss the what has happened during the day, and to make plans for the next day. Once a week a bus arrives and we board it with hot meals to be served those in need. Caritas cooks the meals, and we serve them. Last winter, we didn’t have enough warm clothes for all Oselia clients, so Ihor Hnat and his Regional Social Adaptation Center brought enough garments for everyone...”
Hennady said that, even if you have no hope left, it will be born. He came to the auction in high spirits. He had spent the night helping a woman with two children fix up their place. He had never been in a situation like that, helping a woman he liked and taking care of her children... He was very young when he had found himself in jail, serving a ten-year term for murder. He returned to his home in Lviv six years ago, only to find his sister refusing to open the door. There was no one to help him. His parents were dead, his friends lost, and he had no money. More often than not people like him in such circumstances get back in jail very soon. Hennady proved an exception from the rule, doing odd jobs, and when the situation had become unbearable, he had found a way to Oselia. How? From the vagrant grapevine. When asked about beliefs, he says he mostly relies on good luck and trusts the Lord to have mercy on him; also on fellow man’s sympathy, having met Oksana.
I am ashamed to admit it, but at a certain point I felt light-headed and short of breath. Chyzhevsky was instantly aware of the situation and supported me, and told me, when we were out on the street, “We call this burning out among ourselves; your attitude is unprofessional, you’re taking things too close to heart. You can’t help anyone that way.”
I smiled apologetically and then thought, as though apologizing to myself, that I was so helpless, not knowing how to behave in such a situation. But what about our government? Why does our state allow so many people to become homeless and live on the street? After all, it is not only these people’s fault, but also because we all remain so vulnerable because our laws are so inadequate. Volodymyr, one of Oselia’s inmates having very interesting ideas about life in general and his own homeless situation in particular, said, “We all of us form a great organism. If something goes wrong in this organism, it is useless to ignore that disorder. There are ills capable of gnawing at this organism from within. Therefore, those in power and with big money should focus on such social ailments more often so that such ills don’t backfire on them.”
