SASHA
OSIPOV
Leader of street patrol
Lyuba waited for death among the garbage
An isolated bed in the Intensive Care Unit.
Lyuba stares at me with eyes glazed over, with no expression on her face. Only a frozen grin and colorless lips, and dried white foam around the mouth. Just when I think that she cannot hear me, as an answer to my doubts a large tear rolls off her eye and rolls down the cheek to her hair.
Lyuba is one of the
street children that are children only by age. They have not had a childhood.
They live by begging and stealing, and sleep on bare ground or against
hot pipes - and die, without anybody caring.
A few years ago Lyuba
ran away from home. She could no longer handle the verbal and physical
abuse from her stepfather. The third stepfather, to be exact.
Her
own father had been murdered. After the tragedy, Lyuba's mother remarried,
and twice more after that. Lyuba tried to live with the stepfathers, but
the third one beat her given a slightest excuse. The mother did not get
involved. Finally, the girl packed her things and left.
Lyuba was free as
a bird, the street offered mind-blowing opportunities. Someone taught
her to inhale cigarette smoke without coughing; another taught how to
get high on sniffing glue. Ultimately, someone taught her to make a correct
mix - "it is so easy!" - and time taught her how to mainline.
Lyuba tried and got high. It felt wonderful! She tried again. Again, it
felt wonderful! After fifteen times it didn't feel as wonderful, but the
body needed the fix like a hungry dog.
The drug was ultimately
more important to her than food. To get a fix, Lyuba obediently did whatever
was demanded of her. Others hardly recognized the grey, skeleton-thin
friend any more. To numb the intolerable stomach pains she took more drugs,
until she was unable to walk any more.
Lyuba lied down on the cold ground, unable to move, wrapped into a filthy blanket and cried. She hadn't had a fix for three days. Cramps were tearing her stomach. She hadn't been able to eat for two days.
A boy staying in the same place told us about a dying girl. We found Lyuba amidst the garbage early that morning. We carried her into the car and rushed her to the hospital.
The doctor came to
us, shaken. "I have never seen anyone in that stage still alive!"
The test results were disturbing: a ruptured appendix had contaminated
nearly the entire body. This was followed by an even worse verdict: HIV!
The next day, Lyuba underwent a surgery to try to remove all contaminated tissue.
The
Intensive Care Unit was closed from the outsiders. With God's help, however,
I was allowed to go see Lyuba. I sat next to her. I wasn't given a lot
of time, but enough to be able to tell her about the most important thing.
I told her about Jesus, who is the way, the truth, and the life - about
forgiveness and receiving forgiveness of sins. And from Lyuba's eye, a
bright tear rolled on to her pale, motionless face.
Translated by Jari Vesterinen, Jamtrex Language Services