Divorce.… Illness…. Death….. Financial difficulties… or many similar reasons.
And the orphanage…
When I entered, many children came running to me. Some were hugging me, some wanted to know why I was there. I told them that I would spend time with them for a certain period of time within the scope of a project. There was nothing wrong with their joy. First, I met with their teachers. There were people in front of me who were devoted to their work. They were smiling and caring. I met the children one by one. 15 children aged 7 or 8 easily adapted to this new situation. Except for one.
The first day I went to the institution, Umut just said his name and went to his room. Every time he saw me he looked away. This mysterious little man must have something to tell. He could tell about his school, his friends, Pokemon like the others, but we never managed to talk. He was avoiding talking. He preferred to watch us from the window instead of participating in the games. The information I received from their teachers did not surprise me. He was the most successful student in his class and had degrees in the sports he was interested in. He lost his mother in an accident. He had never seen his father either. He put so much pain into his tiny body, but he didn't give up. “He is successful and has forward-looking goals,” said his teacher. I thought maybe he would be interested if we talked about these, but in vain.
The institution distributed small pocket money every Monday. The day they received their allowance was a holiday for them. Some were running to the grocery store and spending all their money, while others were sharing the food they bought with their friends. They were thinking about what they would buy with that pocket money all week.
One of those days, three children came running to me.
- You tell me...
- No, you tell me
- ?
- Sister Umut will come to you but she is ashamed...
- I said she shouldn't be ashamed, of course she should come.
Umut appeared next to me shyly. He couldn't look at my face. There was something he was hiding behind his back. I looked. He bought me a red rose with all his pocket money. It was the best gift I had ever received, but he spent all his pocket money on that rose. He would have to wait a week for anything he wanted to buy.
- Well, we get pocket money every week. He said, "This is yours."
That rose was the most meaningful thing. He silently expressed many things that he could not express. Like all their friends...
They share similar backgrounds, their ages, joys and sorrows, but they are alone within themselves. They are children, but they are individuals far from childhood.
They have tiny but big hearts that know how to be happy about a tiny thing instead of complaining about everything. They don't do what they know is wrong. There is no such thing as doing it out of spite.
There are so many children who wipe their cheeks when their mother kisses them and are uncomfortable with this attention. The one who looks at his mother with hatred. However, these children complain not about love, but about lack of love. They are dying to call every woman they see "mother" and every man they see "father". It's not that their need for love and affection is greater than their peers. Because it is not fed enough. It was not anyone's choice to be born. Even though they look small and are forced to act like big people...
This is a small detail for most of you, maybe what is written here may be wondering what we call love. This concept, which is worthless to you but has vital value for them, is tangible and invisible. If you go, you will meet many children who are happy to be visited. None of them will wipe their cheeks when you kiss them. None of them will turn to the other cheek.
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