Good reason for an epic adventure

Two of the kids from Living Hope in Vladivostok help cook dinner. Photo / Rob Gray

I had nearly finished this blog when I made the mistake of going downstairs to make a cup of tea.

I was going to tell you about Living Hope's eleventh birthday party: about how they could not celebrate their tenth birthday because the authorities had shut them down for a technical infringement, and about how the sanitation department decided they would conduct an inspection during the birthday celebrations last Friday.

I had written how startled guests were handed mops, brushes and cleaning products. I had explained how Living Hope has a huge, industrial kitchen - the most immaculate, advanced kitchen I have seen so far in Russia - and how they are forbidden to use it because the measurements do not align with government regulations.

And then I went downstairs. I made myself a cup of tea in a disposable cup, pouring a shot of lukewarm tea, swimming with leaves, and then topping it up with boiling water. I sat down opposite Korlia, who was eating sunflower seeds with big wide eyes, and I listened as two Russian girls began to sing. They sang beautifully, skilled fingers on the guitar accompanying harmonious voices. I stopped eating the bowl of fried potato, cabbage and onion that I had been given for dinner.

Looking up, I saw Korlia with eyes shut, singing along with the girls. He can't sing any better than I can. But he was really getting into it. His face had a peaceful yet passionate look on it, and he was singing earnestly, if not tunefully.

As he was singing, I tried to fathom how this boy had spent seven years in prison. I looked at the spider tattoo on his forearm. I saw the coarse metal ring on his finger, forged for him by fellow inmates. It struck me that Korlia does everything passionately - and perhaps it is because he knows what it is to lose the simple freedoms we take for granted. Korlia's eyes are always open extra wide. It's like he wants to take in even more of the world, get a bigger helping, embrace life more fully. He is always the first person to greet you, the first to crack a joke, the first to offer food.

The words "Living Hope" took on a new meaning right then.

Korlia has hope. He never used to. I look around the table. I don't know everyone's stories. The small shy girl with the fringe doesn't talk to me much, but I know she has a young daughter and that, instead of living on the streets, she and her daughter now live in a safe, clean environment.

Dennis is tough, with uneven eyes that give him a constant snarl, and he constantly talks to me, but I can't understand a word he says, and I think he is abusing me anyway. But Dennis is hungry for love, and Rachael Hughes, the CEO of Living Hope, is the only person in the world who loves Dennis. He knows it, even if he doesn't understand why she loves him.

I also think of kids who aren't sitting at this table. Take Vasa. He's 23. They call him "Casanova" because of his charming manner and the impact he has on any woman he meets. Vasa is the type of guy who can't help breaking out into a wide grin, and is soon everyone's friend.

Vasa has no hands. Rachael found him in a Russian hospital when he was 16, arms badly burnt from electrical burns. No-one had bothered changing his bandages in five days. The smell was terrible and his wounds were badly infected, gangrene developing. His hands had to be amputated, but the surgeons did such a poor job that the bones protruded out past his skin.

Rachael and a benefactor arranged for an American surgeon to operate on Vasa for free. They arranged for an anaesthetist too, received a grant for his flights, and the benefactor paid the remainder of the hospital charges.

Rachael flew to America with Vasa, and he now has two hooks in place of his stumps. He proudly says "Inspector Gadget" when we marvel at how he can eat, drink and play games with his new limbs. He can even beat Mike at table tennis!

My time at Living Hope has left me with mixed feelings. It hasn't been all I expected - in some ways better, in some ways worse.

Tonight, though, cracking sunflower seeds with some ex-Russian street kids and listening to haunting music in a language I can't understand, I realise that this is indeed a place of hope.

For the kids who live here, it is all they have. Rachael is the love in their lives that they have never had before.

She is a force who believes in them, thinks the best of them, encourages them to their full potential.

She offers a place of safety, security and respect. As Korlia offers Tom some sunflower seeds with a cheeky grin, I feel the life in this place and it brings a smile to my face.

My next blog will come to you from the road, as we are setting off this morning up the coast.

I'm not sure what lies ahead, but I'll be sure to update you all as soon as I can.

* To help Rob and his mates reach their fundraising target for the Living Hope charitable organisation in Vladivostok and for more information on their journey, click here.