The diverse community of nations, a different language spoken on every corner, and the proximity to Washington and it’s institutions are all things that attract me to Georgetown University, but the most beautiful part of Georgetown is a learning community in the genuine pursuit of a better world. I have long ago come to the conclusion that I am unable to fix the brokenness of the world by just throwing money at various charitable organizations, or piling on donations of new or gently used clothes. I believe people are at their best when serving others through their individual skills and interests. Mine happen to lie in the areas of language, negotiation and policy. That is why, at Georgetown University, I hope to study International Law with the ultimate goal of applying it to poverty alleviation. Law should take its root in morality, but unfortunately, the world isn’t perfect, and the power of legislation can yield devastating affects.
Two summers ago, I was given the opportunity to witness first-hand, the result of immoral governing as a short-term missionary in Romania.
Twenty-five years ago, information about Romanian dictator, Nicolai Ceausescu’s “Child Institutions” was revealed to the public. The press showed images of children tied to their cribs and beating their heads against walls. Many of these orphaned children had never been touched, never been held, never been given any indication of love. So many of them just withered away into non-being. Now the surviving children are adults in Romania. Many of them still have never been shown affection.
My team and I ran a small camp that offered an oasis to the orphans- a chance to escape from their impoverished lives. There we focused on building relationships and creating an environment where they could feel safe and loved, taking them to an intimate camp setting, however, posed some difficulty.
Although most of them were between the ages of 25 and 30, they were mentally about 11 due to years of endured neglect. Though I felt a strong compassion towards them, building relationships seemed impossible; we came from different worlds. I couldn’t touch them or talk to them or love on them enough. They always craved more from me. In my self-righteous mind, I thought that our role was to come and fix their problems, but it had been childish to think that we could overcome the depth of their pain or span the extent of their brokenness. On that first day I went to bed agitated and drained of love and patience, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.
That night, the first hint of a disturbance was a loud creaking- the eerie, lurking, eking sound of rusted springs under duress. As a counselor, and the “enforcer” in my cabin, I interpreted this sound as a disturbance of the peace and turned out of bed in indignation to scold the camper who dared disturb my slumber. What met my eyes, however, was not the sight of the 30-year-old woman breaking a camp regulation, but something much more disturbing.
I met the stare of the orphan, Elena, and her fixed glaze told me her mind’s eye was seeing a nightmare only she could see. This image jolted my memory. Stills from the newscasts we watched in preparation for our trip flit through my head like an old movie reel. Images of institutionalized children tied to cribs, hitting their heads against the wall, and rocking-violent rocking back and forth. These were the visions that haunted my mind as I watched Elena rocking in the dark. She was somehow this 30-year-old woman, trapped in a childhood of horror of her neglect. Violently, she rocked back and forth in her bed holding and comforting herself as had become her ritual since being institutionalized. I had found the source of the creaking: Elena was rocking herself to sleep.
Elena is the victim of a Ceausescu’s dictatorship, and my heart breaks for her every day. It was his policies that lead to the neglect of thousands of children; it was him that caused them to fade away in the cruel institutions of the Romanian state. At that time, Romania had been isolated for many years, and wouldn’t allow any relief organizations to take root in their country. Today, we have organizations like the International Justice Mission, a NGO that works with various governments to create protective legislation. One day I hope to count myself among those making such a difference.
In order to get there, I need to study at a university that won’t just teach me about international law but one that understands what’s most important. Whether the victim is a neglected orphan, a woman trapped in prostitution or a slave at a brick factory in India, everyone deserves to realize his or her capacity to love and be loved. Georgetown is a university that hasn’t forgotten that. Making a significant difference is not something anyone can do alone. An education from Georgetown University will empower me to be a skillful, compassionate advocate for the invisible, untouchable orphans like Elena.
