Orphanages have been put back on the agenda in Bulgaria after recent criticism in the European Commision's report, released in October, and from Amnesty International.
Discussion of the topic is inextricably bound up with the wider issues of social inclusion, ethnic minorities - "in any orphanage between 60 and 90 percent of children are of Roma origin" (Berova-Matova, Tabitha Bulgaria Foundation) - and mental health. LUCY COOPER discusses the issues with those involved in the sector.

THE regular report of the European Commission highlighted the need for improvements in the area of Bulgaria's social inclusion policy, especially in relation to health care and child welfare. Attention was drawn specifically to three areas: living conditions in institutions, the de-institutionalisation process, and the need for a greater focus on community-based social services.

Who are the `orphans', why are they there?

This may seem self-explanatory - the orphans are children whose parents have died and they are in the orphanages because they haven't got anywhere else to go. However, it is not as straightforward as this. As mentioned in the EC report, many of the children in institutions are not orphans. This was confirmed by Albena Berova-Matova, of the Tabitha Bulgaria foundation and Kapka Georgieva, head of the Kniaz Boris boarding school for children with mental disabilities. Both said that many of the children are not `true orphans', many having been abandoned by their biological or foster parents. Many come from large families who are unable to support them financially. Some have disabilities which the parents are unable or unwilling to cope with.

At Georgieva's school 80 per cent of the children are Roma. A few are of Turkish descent. Berova-Matova comments on the fact that a high proportion of children in institutions are Roma, saying she has her own "hesitations" about this. "Why have we, the Bulgarian society, to pay for those reckless, inconsiderate, irresponsible parents? But on the other hand, I say, ok, those kids are not to be blamed for anything, let's give them a chance."

The fact that many of the children have got families has prompted some to call for the re-integration of children into these families, in line with the Bulgarian plan outlined in the EC report to reduce by 10 per cent the total number of children in specialised institutions in the period 2003-2005. However, Berova-Matova does not think that this is the solution.

"The State Agency for Child Protection is now talking about launching a programme to return the children to their families and supporting the families,"says Berova-Matova, "but most of these children come from families that are not worth going back to. They come from families where the father is a criminal or a drunkard, or the mother is a prostitute. When the child goes back to these families they will take his good clothes, they will take the allowance for the child and buy alcohol or something for themselves and the child will go out in the streets. I have spoken to social workers and they say they hate the moment they have to return a child back to their families. So, it seems this is not the best solution." 

So, supposing de-institutionalisation and re-integration for those with families is not the best option, what do the institutions themselves have to offer?

The living conditions

Albena Berova-Matova has been involved in working with orphanages for more than 10 years. "At the beginning the situation in the orphanages was very bad: miserable, unhappy," she says. She describes Roman, an orphanage near Vratsa in northern Bulgaria, which consisted of two orphanages - one for children with disabilities, and one for `healthy' children - which were amalgamated into one. She said it was impossible to tell which children had come from which orphanage as they had all been retarded by lack of emotional care. As well as being emotionally undernourished, the children also did not have adequate facilities. The orphanage had "one outside toilet for 80 children, they didn't have a bathroom or a dining room, all their beds were broken and they had to study at broken desks sitting two to a chair," says Berova-Matova. "But now it's totally changed."

Donors have reconstructed the orphanage, a process which recently had to be repeated in part after floods which left the basement swimming in water, ruined the orphanage's laundry facilities and bed linen and caused extensive damage throughout the building. However, repairs have been swift and today Berova-Matova is on her way to deliver new linen to the orphanage. The quick repairs were made possible by a positive response from companies willing to donate materials and services, a trend which she says is on the increase. "In the past few years Bulgarian donors have been growing. Companies donate materials which are essential to the reconstruction work in the orphanages." She believes that this is a sign that "Bulgarian society is waking up and is prepared to help and express sympathy and understanding for the problem".

"Initially, it was fashionable to donate, for example, a freezer at Christmas, but now people have started calling us. Initially I didn't even tell my friends that I was occupied with things like this because they would have thought I was crazy. We, the Bulgarian people, were not brought up in the fashion of helping other people because we are survivors ourselves, so everyone is taking care of himself or herself or the family and orphanages are too much. But now a lot of friends are phoning up and helping," says Berova-Matova.

So, conditions are improving thanks to donations, but what of help from the state? First, the system by which orphanages are managed by various ministries is "a bit complicated". Berova-Matova explains that there are different kinds of orphanages. Children up to three years old live in homes that are the responsibility of the Ministry of Health, from three to seven, the Ministry of Education is responsible, and from seven to 19, the Ministry of Labour and Social Policy. There are also orphanages specifically for children with disabilities which are managed by the Ministry of Labour and Social Policy. "The state provides money according to the budget, but this budget is very limited. I am very sad to admit that orphanages have never been priority to any government."

Limited budgets mean that it is difficult to persuade well-educated professional social workers to staff orphanages, which are often located "in the middle of nowhere". Berova-Matova says there is a need for better training, and more compassion from staff. "In places where the director is a strong person with a good heart, things go well, in places where the manager is not a generous person, it's difficult." She says that the split between institutions with these kinds of management is about half and half. She admits that although she has worked with orphanages for the past 10 years, "I have no solution in my mind how those institutions have to be run".

The vicious circle

"It's a vicious circle," says Berova-Matova, "the orphanages are very poor places, miserable places generally speaking, but they provide you with a bed, a place where you can stay warm. They provide you food three times a day- it may not be particularly nutritious, but still it's food. They give you clothes, not fashionable, or trendy, but you are clothed. They send you to school, they take care of you when you're ill and so on. So, when they leave the orphanages and they have no place to go, they have to take care of themselves and they're not prepared for this. Very, very few orphans make it well in life, go to university. The rest of them have no profession, no skills, they don't know how to take care of themselves, so they become prostitutes or criminals or unemployed. So something has to be done in the field of education. Those children have to be taught how to take care of themselves, how to survive. They don't even clean, they have ladies to do this for them in the orphanages. In the end they have no profession and no way to survive in real life."

She mentions some practical training programmes which her foundation, in conjunction with various bodies such as the Dutch Embassy, tried to run for orphans forced to leave the orphanages when they reached 19 years old. She said these did not work because the orphans, living in sheltered housing for two years, were not motivated to work. For years, she said her foundation supported a sheltered boarding house, but she said that it only fostered laziness.

However, with the right approach, could education and training programmes offer a solution?

Vocational training - breaking the cycle?

"The system works," says Kapka Georgieva. Of course, more money is always needed and welcomed, but we manage fairly comfortably. So says the head of Kniaz Boris boarding school for children with mental disabilities. The school is in the south of Sofia, not far from the capital's centre. It was initially established in 1954 as a school for children with mental disabilities, but only practical subjects were taught by staff who were not trained to deal with children with mental disabilities. In 1991, the school gained its present status as an institution running social programmes and teaching humanities subjects such as Bulgarian, ethics and social skills, as well as providing training in vocational courses. Georgieva heads a staff of 52 people, 16 of whom are specialists in psychology, social work or related subjects.

There are nine similar institutes in Bulgaria, three of which are located in Varna, Plovdiv and Bansko. Georgieva believes that the location of the institutions is key to their success. Kniaz Boris' location in the capital means it has access to funding, however facilities such as the one located in the small town of Gorna Oryahovitsa are not so fortunate. She says it is a mistake to locate facilities in small towns because there is not much access to funds and because children need to be in big cities to integrate.

Georgieva maintains that the school is one of the better off ones. It receives funding from the municipality, which even specifically allocated money for an excursion for the children to Shabla, near Varna on the Black Sea Coast during the summer, and also receives donations from organisations such as the International Women's Club.

Entering the building we are greeted by the smell of bleach with underlying hints of school dinners, and a vivid yellow sunrise painted on the wall. The interior is sparse, the concrete floors wet from recent mopping. Georgieva explains that the children are responsible for keeping the school clean. She is quick to emphasise the point that this is not an orphanage where the children are babysat. It is a school which is about providing education.

The `children' who live at the school are aged between 18 and 25. The school, which has a capacity for 116 students, is usually home to about 100 children at any one time, taking on an average of 50 students each year. Students apply to enter the school from orphanages across the country. For the first time this year, a child from outside the country was accepted into the school - a Romanian.
But now the corridors are empty. It is mid-morning and the children are having their lessons, which take place in another building. They will return at 1.30pm when official lessons are over for the day. Then they will spend some of the afternoon taking part in activities such as art, sewing and English before being given about four hours of free time. During this time the children can leave the school unsupervised as long as they sign out and return in time for their curfew, which is at 9.30pm in winter, 10.30pm in summer.  They go to bed in rooms shared with a roommate of the same sex, before waking up at 6.30am, making their beds, cleaning, tidying and having breakfast in time to start lessons again at 8am.

Lessons consist of classes in seven different areas such as painting and decorating, cooking and gardening. Classes are of six to eight children. The small group sizes mean that the teachers can "reach" the students more easily, say Georgieva. Students choose which subjects to concentrate on.

The practical element is important. Georgieva gestures around her office, which consists of two rooms knocked into one. Students specialising in this area undertook the task of renovating the office as well of that of painting and decorating, as a final exam in their course. The idea is that after completing the three-year course, the students are equipped with the vocational skills needed to secure employment. On completion of the course, they have the opportunity to take an internship with a company with the hope of being taken on permanently. Georgieva says that those who don't get offered permanent positions in the companies either return to their families if they have any, or have the option of living in sheltered housing for six months. There are two such shelters in Sofia. 

The system works?

Georgieva says that it does, but that it depends on the child to learn both social and vocational skills, self-discipline and independence. As a self-contained system, the school works hard to achieve these goals and appears to achieve a level of success. But in terms of integration into the wider system, there are still many challenges to be faced.

Georgieva gives an example of the case of a boy whose parents did not want to admit that he had mental problems. Ambitious for him to do well they sent him to an ordinary school, but in the last two years of his studies there he could only undergo written examinations as he ceased to communicate verbally. Finally he withdrew totally, stopping verbal communication entirely. Now he is attending Kniaz Boris some progress is being made and he is beginning to communicate again, but his parents' attitude demonstrates an unwillingness to recognise the existence of a condition which attracts stigmatisation in society. This is by no means a uniquely Bulgarian problem, but one which needs to be addressed to some extent in all socities.

Stigmatisation is a reality of everyday life for the children at Kniaz Boris. Georgieva describes the negative attitude of the students of a nearby public school toward her students. She says that conflict regularly arises and her children are mocked, teased and beaten when they go out of their school grounds into the community. She describes the school fence as a barrier between the two zones. Georgieva wanted to organise joint sport events to take place between the two schools to improve relations, but this did not work and never got past the planning stage.

Georgieva says that one reason her children are unpopular with others in the community is the fact that they haven't got any money of their own. The state provides an allowance of 1221 leva a child, a year, which is enough for the school to provide shelter, clothing, food and materials for the students, but leaves nothing to spend on personal items or excursions. Before the changes, Georgieva says that a social pension was provided for children in this situation, but this does not exist any more. This means that children from the school don't have enough money even to buy gum or coffee and so others get annoyed with them for hanging around in cafes. She also suspects that some of her children beg or steal to get money. Not a positive start for re-integration into the community.

Though neither Georgieva nor Berova-Matova had had the time to the read the EC report, both agreed that improvements were needed in institutions and that, while de-institutionalisation to re-integrate into their families was not in the best interests of most of the children, that re-integration into the community needed to be addressed and that this could only be achieved successfully with an emphasis on education, both of those coming out of the institution into communities, and of the communities themselves. At present, it seems all too often to be a case of too little, too late.