Medical students visit to an orphanage

The trip was organized by the charity team of my faculty as a means to brighten the Christmas break for the children. None of us were going back home for the holidays anyway, the most common reason being that we had to prepare for our Microbiology exam, and we had all concluded that it would be too distracting to study back home. The stress of this exam had been mounting in the 'just-shove-it-deep-down-and-don't-think-about-it' corner of my mind, but now it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. I needed a break. Badly. And that was going to be impossible if I spent my day off at home. This I knew from experience. The guilt of doing nothing would become too overwhelming before half the day would be over, and I'd end up hitting the books again. I was narrating this tale of woe to a friend when she suggested I join this noble cause. 'Not only will you be doing something nice, but I think it'll also teach you a few things that can only be learned through experience.'

And that was it. After just a few days, I found myself on a bus en route to this quiet town. The team had already meticulously planned everything out. From picking out presents selectively for each age group to working out activities to engage the children in, nothing was forgotten. All the volunteers had to do was show up. As I stared out through the window at the breathtaking view, I couldn't help but wonder if the language barrier would create a wall in communication. Would they see me differently because I'm a foreigner? I eventually decided to push these thoughts aside. Whatever happens, happens.

After about two hours, we finally reached our destination. The director, who had been waiting for us at the stop, greeted us as we got off the bus and led us towards the children’s home. It was a cold, sunny afternoon, and as we walked, huddled deep into our coats, we asked her all the questions that had been running rampant in our minds. How long has this school been running? How come only a few children are here during the holidays? In my mind, children staying at an orphanage meant that they had no one to take care of them. I found out, however, that many kids were here because some parents either didn't have the means to look after them or, sadly, just didn't want to. I felt a pang of immense guilt. I couldn't even bring myself to imagine what it would be like not to have the wings of your parents outstretched above your head, protecting you at all times. Or worse, if they refused to extend those wings over you through no fault of your own.

We finally turned a corner, and there it was. A soft, muted yellow sanctuary stood tall against the winter sun, almost beckoning us toward its seemingly warm interior. On the right was an empty playground with a spacious basketball court beside it. Empty swings swayed gently in the light breeze, their chains creaking softly as if longing for the weight of excited riders. We were slowly led indoors, a relief from the unrelenting weather, and given a brief tour of the place before being taken to see all the children. They were housed in different apartment units, usually separated according to their age, each with a separate caretaker. Since there were quite a few of us, two to three people stayed back in each apartment unit. My friend and I decided to stay in the unit housing children aged up to 10 years old.

All my worries about not being able to connect with the kids because of the language barrier had promptly dissipated. My broken Czech was enough for me to understand them and vice versa. We helped the caretaker set the table for lunch and hungrily gulped down the delicious vegetable soup she had prepared. The rest of the afternoon was spent playing various card games and Twister.

Time passed quickly, and we were all called to the main dining hall before we knew it. It was time to channel our creativity and make Christmas cards. The volunteers diligently ensured each table had all the necessary supplies, and we took our seats brimming with anticipation. The loud chatter of impatient children reverberated in the corridor outside and eventually flooded in as the doors to the hall were opened. The once neat, single line dissolved into controlled chaos as everyone started to find their designated seats. Natala and Šarlota, children who I had befriended hours ago, decided to sit next to me. In a way, I almost felt honoured. Especially because Natala seemed to have a much more guarded demeanour whenever I had previously attempted to interact with her. I concluded that she disliked me or, understandably, just didn't want to become attached to strangers who were going to be there for a day. This was pretty much the opposite of how most other kids reacted. We had managed to bond with them almost immediately. It seemed like they were desperate to absorb any love and care shown towards them, no matter how temporary. Natala grabbed some markers and started working on her project, and Šarlota soon followed suit. I decided to watch and help them, giving them the occasional nod every time they looked up and showed me their progress, patiently seeking positive affirmations. In the end, they signed their names at the back and proudly displayed their finished product. Natala put a marker in my hand and passed me her card, asking me to also sign my name. My heart might as well have been ripped out of my chest. She silently mouthed the individual letters as I spelt my name out on the card, whispering the syllables, and eventually said my name out loud. She looked up at me again to make sure she had pronounced it correctly. I smiled and gave her a thumbs up, 'Perfektní!'. She stared at me a little longer, then removed one of the many rings she was wearing, grabbed my hand, and smoothly slipped it onto my finger.

'Gift for you.'

'Pro mě?' (For me?)

'Ano' (Yes), she said, nodding her head. 'Something to remember'.

My entire being completely melted. I gazed at Šarlota, sitting across from me at the table, smiling ever so brightly, the warmth almost radiating out of her tiny frame. Tears started to blur my vision. How could children who had been denied so much be capable of giving out so much love?

'Děkuju moc,' I managed to get out.

I felt like the most ungrateful person on the planet. I was so engrossed in looking at my struggles with a magnifying glass when all that I needed was to take a few steps back and breathe. Moments like these serve as stark reminders that others would go to great lengths to be in the privileged position you are currently in.

Needless to say, the experience had a deep and lasting impact on me. It was the first time I had ever visited an orphanage, and it completely changed my perspective of life. It's funny how some of the most important lessons in life come to you from the most unexpected places.

So, the next time you feel weighed down by the obstacles that arise as you struggle on this path called life, take a trip, maybe even two, and embark on your volunteering journey. Trust me, it will shift your perspective on the challenges you face, forever altering how you perceive them.