Yoldakia (Yol-duh-KEY-uh)

It’s been over 72 hours since meeting this woman and I find myself wondering if this encounter really took place.  So often I fill my head with images from TV shows so right now, I question if what I saw was “made for TV” or was it real life.  I remain in complete shock over what I walked into on Friday afternoon in a small village outside Orhei, Moldova.

We spent time earlier in the morning shopping in a local market.  We filled our carts with beans, rice, wheat, bread, and other items.  I wanted to purchase the large pigs head sitting in the deli but was not sure if I could part with it when the time came to give the food away.  We had over two grocery carts filled by the time we hit the checkout line.  People watched with curiosity.

After separating all the goods into separate care packages, we set off for the village.  Our mission on this afternoon was to share the love of Jesus with the poorest of poor  in this small village along with providing for some basic physical needs.

As we arrived in the village, we turned off the main dirt road onto a smaller dirt road which began to meander up hill.  It wasn’t long before we hit a spot where it was determined our van could go no further due to risk of becoming stuck.   Our leader, Oleg, pulled off the road as far as he could safely pull to clear the road and we poured out, grabbed care packages, and began our walk up the hill.

We came to a very dilapidated house and Oleg opened the gate to walk through.  We were warned of the poor conditions as we approached the front door but I was not prepared for what I was about to encounter.  I have seen poverty through my work…I have walked into homes where it was not possible to sit due to animal filth; I have worked with families who had so little to their name and were one small crisis away from becoming homeless…but I was not prepared for this.

As I approached this home, I would probably be more accurate in likening it to an abandoned shack in our culture which should be knocked down to avoid attracting the homeless.  There was a cute little puppy leashed to a pole on the front porch with a leash no more than 2 feet long at best.

We walked into the front door and the front room was empty.  There was another room to the left and Oleg had gone on ahead.  I heard his voice along with a female voice speaking in either Romanian or Russian.  As I approached the room ahead, I noted there was a strong smell of smoke in the house and I could see waves of smoke moving against the light coming from the window up ahead.  I stepped into the room and quickly scanned the surroundings.  Things were not computing in my mind because I saw each of the members of my group, but I could not locate the woman.  I soon realized she was in a very dark portion of the room where the sunlight from the window could not reach.  It appeared to me that this must be the “kitchen” area of the house, but it was so dark in that area I could not make out a person or any other objects.  As information flooded into my mind, I realized that with her condition of blindness, the entire house looked this dark in her world.

As Oleg continued to talk with the woman, he began to interpret for us.  He urged her to come out and sit on the couch.  Oleg told us she was scared because she heard other voices in the room besides his, but did not know who we were.  Oleg told us that she was raped by men in this village on the “2nd Christmas.”  He went on to explain how their culture celebrates the 12 days of Christmas and on January 7, 2014 she was raped.  Did I mention that she is 79 years old?  Oleg assured her that our group was there to bring gifts to help her.

As the conversation continued, it appeared her voice became increasingly distressed as she talked.  Oleg told us she is distressed by the on-coming cold weather and she has no one to chop wood for her to have heat.  Oleg told us that many older people have died during the deep cold of winter in these poor villages because they have no one to check on them or help them out.  The woman continued to plead with Oleg for help.   As Oleg continued to speak with her he told us that she is asking why death has not come for her.  He told us that people of the village are telling her to hang herself to end her misery.  We prayed.

Oleg then told the woman that we have food for her that we will leave with the Center (a small kitchen in the village where a hot meal is prepared for the poor children and the elderly.)  He asked for the loaf of bread we had and he gave it to her.  She sat on the couch rocking slightly, clutching this loaf of bread.  He then told her of his plans to have the men of his church come out this fall to chop firewood for her and others in the village.

As I stood in that room, stunned by the conditions I was witnessing, I cried.  I looked around at others and there were tears flowing.  One member of our group had to walk out of the room and I later learned they had become sick at what they witnessed.

Our group said goodbyes and we walked out toward the front gate.  We got to the road and began walking up the dirt trail to the next house…no one spoke.

Later that evening, we packed our possessions and began the 8-hour ride through the Moldavian hills toward Bucharest.  At one point during the night, I knew I was going to write about this experience and I needed to know the woman’s name.  Oleg told me her name was Yoldakia.  Yoldakia will now be the face I see in my mind’s eye when I begin to think about the nameless, faceless people who struggle daily just to make it to tomorrow.  I will also be reminded that in God’s eyes, she matters, and we were able to lay up treasures in heaven by providing for some of her needs