Moldova’s Migrant Orphans

It has been estimated between 20% and 25% of the population has worked in other countries. What choices have they?

If they stay they cannot earn enough to provide for the family. If they leave, their family will suffer. Many never return!

This is a song written by children about this problem.

Our parents work hard abroad

and have for many years

We have to grow up without them

but this fills our eyes with tears

Mother, who will care for me if you are away?

Our home will have no master, father, if you chose not to stay

 ~~~~~~~~~~

I miss my parents very much,

I am feeling so alone

I want no money or no clothes,

I want you to come home

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Parents, can you hear us?

We need you to come home

Other people’s slaves were made

when you leave us on our own

Chorus:

Moldova’s Migrant Orphans
During a mission to Moldova in the late summer I found it surprisingly emotional making my way in what seemed like total darkness along the station platform in Bălţi.  The occasional dim torch and the faint light from the stars was the only thing preventing me from just walking into people.  With so many people, there was a strange and eerie silence. The midnight train that inevitably arrived at 20 past twelve, was awaited with some trepidation by the crowd.  It was strange how the silence could emit a feeling of fear and sad anticipation as those on the platform were waiting for the train to take them to Moscow, where they hoped to have work to earn money they could send to their families.  Unfortunately, many people go to Moscow and indeed other parts only to find their hopes dashed as their salary would remain unpaid, and without money they are trapped and cannot return to their families.

The fearful darkness ended abruptly as the station floodlights blazed into action.  One could almost sense  the adrenalin as the anxiety turned into the reality of the train arriving.  Queues quickly formed by the doors and people filed in to the stifling carriages.  Some carriages were a succession of bunks, not cubicles but just bunks.

Those fortunate would have somewhere to lie down but nowhere to sit whilst others would have seats but no beds for the long and arduous journey to Moscow.

As the train pulled out of the main station some of the remaining families started to make their way along the platform when the floodlights turned off and the station abruptly reverted to the black state I found it in earlier but devoid of the hundreds of people now on the train to Moscow, leaving their families behind.  There would be many children very upset this evening.

I was reminded of little Sveta I met a few days earlier whilst staying with the family Drab in the village of Baroncea.    Sveta is only 5 years old and when I returned to the Drabs house at about 10.30 at night she was sadly playing with a ball.  The Drabs are a very loving family and I know will care for Sveta very well whilst her mother is away, but this doesn't detract from the sadness of missing your mother.

I was staying in the same house in the village and was surprised when Sveta joined me in another room and bounced her ball towards me.  We played ball for a short while but it was obvious that she was just so tired but seemed to be using the ball as a comforter and a reminder of her mother.

She came over, sat on my lap and then fell asleep.  It was very sad to realise that Sveta is one of thousands of Moldovan children whose parents have left, but most would not be as fortunate as Sveta to have such lovely people as the Drabs to look after them.  We must really concentrate our efforts to try and help people and to give them the means that families may stay together. I could see what a dreadful effect it was having on the children and I can only imagine how the parents must feel leaving their children and their culture.  Regrettably for many, there is no option.