In IMPACT Club Best Hurricane, we have a lot of Denis'. Not to mention, two Denisa's. So when I met another Denis, I wasn't surprised. This Denis, though, was different.
He's small. Smaller than "small for his age", smaller than "just got some catching up to do". Denis is tiny. His feet, his hands, his stature. But not his smile - that wide eyed and goofy smile giving away his quiet demeanor.
He's the kind of small that makes him an easy target for the bigger kids. An overbite and visibly well-worn hand-me-downs only adding to the excuses.
It was my first day at IMPACT Best Hurricane and I was feeling out of the loop. The language was hard. Fresh off weeks on the road in Italy and to the north of Romania, in Cluj, my language skills were more lacking than usual. "Da" and "biene" seemed only to have survived the trip back home. Gratiela broke us up into two teams, the infamous "portocale" and "banane". Oranges and bananas. I was a portocale. Denis was too.
In our corner of the room, we organized ideas and props and characters for our skit. We were portraying the harmful effects (health and social) of littering for the club's upcoming service learning project. They are scheduled to perform it in front of an audience at one of Uricani's next upcoming city events, on stage at the Miner's Cultural Center. It's the big times.
After a few moments discussion, everyone moved to one side of the room to rummage through big bags of old dolls, stuffed animals, and Grandma's oversized sweaters. I didn't quite catch the directions but Denis came to my aid quickly. Having missed the rush to get the good props, he snagged for me a lime-green half-bear, half-guerilla holding a red plushy heart. "Te iubesc". I love you. "Multumesc," I said, smiling, as I took the outstretched animal, knowing Denis was looking out for me. Knowing somehow this was only a small deed on a long list of gentle and sacrificial "little brother" acts.
Denis looked out for me a lot that day. Saving me a spot in the circle, helping me clean up the props, stacking the prodigal chairs, the list goes on. I didn't know why he chose to look out for this goofy, red-headed, obviously strange stranger like he did.
After the club, after a chorus of "ba", "nevedem" and "ciao!" has ended, I asked Gratiela about the board of jewelry hanging up in the front. Beautiful, handcrafted wooden beads and those neon string keychains we all made when we were ten. "It's to sponsor Denis' family," she said. "The club started the project last year to help them buy groceries every month."
She continued, "We really try to encourage Denis and his sister. Especially Denis. They alternate staying home with their younger siblings while their mom goes to work. Dad is working in another country; Spain I think."
I got home that afternoon busting at the seams. As I talked to my flatmates about IMPACT I realized how deep Denis' story had jumped into my heart. He had gotten in there real deep.
Throughout this semester, I've heard a lot of stories about hope for change in Romania. I've heard a lot of hopeless stories too. But Denis - small and unassuming Denis - gives me hope. He has every reason to cheat the system, to try to get ahead, to get what he can and give nothing back. But he doesn't. He didn't get to chose whether or not to stay home from school to look after his siblings. But he does. He doesn't have to be a part of IMPACT, to do the community service learning projects, to help out the stranger - that new Americano. But he does.
In my five minutes here, I've seen how IMPACT can change the course and the story of someone's life. How IMPACT chooses good, time and time again, even when in the face of pain, corruption, persecution, and old habits of Communism - like mistrust and dishonesty - that are hard to change, even 20 years after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Still, IMPACT chooses hope. To trust. Work, hard work. And most of all: love.
He's small. Smaller than "small for his age", smaller than "just got some catching up to do". Denis is tiny. His feet, his hands, his stature. But not his smile - that wide eyed and goofy smile giving away his quiet demeanor.
He's the kind of small that makes him an easy target for the bigger kids. An overbite and visibly well-worn hand-me-downs only adding to the excuses.
It was my first day at IMPACT Best Hurricane and I was feeling out of the loop. The language was hard. Fresh off weeks on the road in Italy and to the north of Romania, in Cluj, my language skills were more lacking than usual. "Da" and "biene" seemed only to have survived the trip back home. Gratiela broke us up into two teams, the infamous "portocale" and "banane". Oranges and bananas. I was a portocale. Denis was too.
In our corner of the room, we organized ideas and props and characters for our skit. We were portraying the harmful effects (health and social) of littering for the club's upcoming service learning project. They are scheduled to perform it in front of an audience at one of Uricani's next upcoming city events, on stage at the Miner's Cultural Center. It's the big times.
After a few moments discussion, everyone moved to one side of the room to rummage through big bags of old dolls, stuffed animals, and Grandma's oversized sweaters. I didn't quite catch the directions but Denis came to my aid quickly. Having missed the rush to get the good props, he snagged for me a lime-green half-bear, half-guerilla holding a red plushy heart. "Te iubesc". I love you. "Multumesc," I said, smiling, as I took the outstretched animal, knowing Denis was looking out for me. Knowing somehow this was only a small deed on a long list of gentle and sacrificial "little brother" acts.
Denis looked out for me a lot that day. Saving me a spot in the circle, helping me clean up the props, stacking the prodigal chairs, the list goes on. I didn't know why he chose to look out for this goofy, red-headed, obviously strange stranger like he did.
After the club, after a chorus of "ba", "nevedem" and "ciao!" has ended, I asked Gratiela about the board of jewelry hanging up in the front. Beautiful, handcrafted wooden beads and those neon string keychains we all made when we were ten. "It's to sponsor Denis' family," she said. "The club started the project last year to help them buy groceries every month."
She continued, "We really try to encourage Denis and his sister. Especially Denis. They alternate staying home with their younger siblings while their mom goes to work. Dad is working in another country; Spain I think."
I got home that afternoon busting at the seams. As I talked to my flatmates about IMPACT I realized how deep Denis' story had jumped into my heart. He had gotten in there real deep.
Throughout this semester, I've heard a lot of stories about hope for change in Romania. I've heard a lot of hopeless stories too. But Denis - small and unassuming Denis - gives me hope. He has every reason to cheat the system, to try to get ahead, to get what he can and give nothing back. But he doesn't. He didn't get to chose whether or not to stay home from school to look after his siblings. But he does. He doesn't have to be a part of IMPACT, to do the community service learning projects, to help out the stranger - that new Americano. But he does.
In my five minutes here, I've seen how IMPACT can change the course and the story of someone's life. How IMPACT chooses good, time and time again, even when in the face of pain, corruption, persecution, and old habits of Communism - like mistrust and dishonesty - that are hard to change, even 20 years after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Still, IMPACT chooses hope. To trust. Work, hard work. And most of all: love.
In the same way, Denis gives me hope for Romania. He chooses good. He chooses good and IMPACT allows him a space to be celebrated, growing and sharpening that sense that draws us into community. Draws us into honest work and honest love.
Maybe I'm drawn to Denis because he's the underdog story. Maybe IMPACT is too. But then again, as Mark Twain put it, "it's not the size of the dog in the fight; it's the size of the fight in the dog." Keep fighting, Denis. You're going to be something good, I promise.
Maybe I'm drawn to Denis because he's the underdog story. Maybe IMPACT is too. But then again, as Mark Twain put it, "it's not the size of the dog in the fight; it's the size of the fight in the dog." Keep fighting, Denis. You're going to be something good, I promise.
- - Our program admin Kadie has written a similar & beautiful story about Denis' sister. Read it here.
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