Hair and Jesus in the Det-Dom

A student of mine volunteers every Saturday at a Det-Dom (children's shelter for orphans or those with parents incapable of taking care of their children). I found this out last semester when she told me she was not coming to my Saturday class anymore. At the time this really annoyed me, but it turned out not to be a big deal because I moved my class to a different day anyway. She still skipped the class relatively often. On a side note, it astounds me how people who do volunteer work are often incredibly irresponsible in non-volunteer life (i.e., school or work).

At the Fulbright mid-year seminar a lot of people caught Det-Dom fever from a presentation given by a grantee. I didn't. I don't particularly like children; however, I like doing volunteer work and my teaching schedule this semester is really light so I asked my student if I could go with. She agreed. At our next class, she informed me that this was a Christian volunteer organization. Says she, "We play with the kids and then we talk about God." As a rule, I dislike religious volunteer groups. I find it rather involuntary to offer help (juice boxes) on the condition that your client must listen to your religious opinions and repeat them before the help is forthcoming. I agreed to come anyway, mostly in the hope that I could meet with the administration and set up my own time to come.

The situation went from bad to worse when I met up my student and I found out that the Det-Dom is located in Pronsk, about an hour and a half from Ryazan by car. She took me to the group's shed on the edge of the city. Before we could leave, the group had to find a specific episode of The Flying House, a cartoon about a time traveling house whose inhabitants use it to hang out with Jesus. This involved an hour watching six tapes of the cartoon in fast forward. I tried to lighten the mood with various time travel jokes, but my references to Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure were not well received. (Another side note: I was treated to the episode of The Flying House where Judas betrays Jesus. I don't know the full background of this show, but I would assume the kids in the show went back to a backwater province of the Roman Empire for Jesus. Thus, they should know the Bible or at least the part with Jesus. Aren't they as guilty as Judas because they didn't tell Jesus of his future betrayal? Last side note: I'm not particularly familiar with the new testament but apparently one of the Marys washes Jesus's feet with oil and her hair. Disgusting and awkward for both parties, in my opinion.) Between the philosophical differences and the amount of time it was going to take I almost wimped out but I couldn't muster a good excuse and so I went with them.

Aside from a somewhat awkward ride there and back, it was really fun. The kids were great and took to me, mostly because the teachers and volunteers nearly all female, meaning I'm the closest they will get to a male role model. I couldn't really gage their living situation but they seem to be living a relatively normal life at least in comparison to some of the horror stories I heard about other orphanages in Russia. One very noticeable particularity was the boys' haircuts. A few boys had a normal haircut (as long as two inches of hair), the rest had buzz cuts. Of the boys with buzz cuts, most of them also had two inch long bangs hanging down over their foreheads. My student and two other volunteers did proselytize through activities, but some of their efforts were thwarted by the kids. My student had the children make a picture by coming up one by one and drawing a single thing. While the first three kids drew geometrical shapes on the sides of the poster, the fourth bravely put the sharpie in the middle of the canvas and drew a smiling Satan.

Lapses in Judgement

Because of the break, my sense of time and scheduling was a little messed up. Thus, I had (and still have) been missing a lot of basketball practices. Power forward and muzhik, Vovan calls me up to belatedly celebrate both the New Year, his birthday and general lack of hanging out. I, bearing The Godfather w/ Russian subtitles and Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (thanks, Mom), meet him and another player on the street, and I don't really remember a whole lot afterward (sorry, Mom).

The next morning I wake up to my door buzzer and the hum of two women discussing whether anyone is home. The ladies want money to give the guy who is going to install the new door lock to the apartment building. They're also surprised and pleased that I didn't make an attempt to clothe myself. I can't really think so I reach into my coat and hand them whatever bills I have. They take 100 rubles and, giggling, stuff the rest into my underwear. I lay on the couch sleeping or reading most of the day.

Night falls and I still feel terrible, so I gather my strength for the 200 meter walk to the grocery store for a beer and M&Ms. I'm pleased to see that though the smell in my stairwell lingers, the source of the smell seems to be gone. As soon as I close the door behind me I try the combination, the old combination, and it doesn't work. I'm not distraught at this point. I get my beer and candy. Returning to my door, I try the combination again and it still refuses to work. By this time, it's roughly 10:30 on a Wednesday night and no one comes after 20 minutes. No one is going to come either for the next hour and a half, or longer for all I know. It's -15 degrees celsius. I'm wearing really thin, canvas, 200-ruble shoes and no socks. Or gloves. Or a hat. So, I resort to my romantic comedy education and start throwing peanut M&Ms at 2nd story windows, concentrating on those with their lights on. After a few successful shots at one of these windows, it opens and a little girl in her pyjamas pops her head out: "What do you want?" "Open the door. I live here." "What?" "Little girl, give me the code, please, it's freezing. I forgot to wear socks." "Try 140...or 150." "No good. Can you open the door yourself?" Little girl goes inside for a couple minutes and then returns, "No, I'm alone. Good night." I suppose that was a smart move on her part but I don't understand why she had to go inside to make that decision if she was alone. The door code is a three number combination where no number is repeated. This means that the first number can be one of ten, the second one of nine, and the third one of eight. Thus, there are only 720 combinations. I did this calculation as I warmed my hands before trying every combination until I got the right one, a little more than halfway through the possibilities. This calculation is wrong now that I think about it. There are less. It was cold, sue me.