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A Haven for Yerevan's Street-Children By Onnik Krikorian Stepping into the alleyways sandwiched between the Hotel Dvin and Mashtots Avenue is like moving between two worlds, and certainly like traveling back in time. Twisting, narrow lanes separate houses dating back to the turn of the century, if not before. A predominantly Azerbaijani neighborhood at the turn of the century, the central district of Kond is now home to approximately 3,000 Armenians. But even if walking through
Kond is like exploring the history of a sprawling metropolis that
was once a small village, there is one other obvious facet to the
district. While the residential areas of Bangladesh, Zeytoon, and
Massiv are poor, Kond is even poorer, and even if somewhat ironically
located directly in the heart of the city. Houses are crumbling, and poverty
in Kond is nothing new. Even during the Soviet years, residents
were promised new apartments that never came, but things are even
worse now. As elsewhere throughout the country, people exist on
a diet of potatoes, macaroni, and vegetables. According to the wife
of former Foreign Minister Raffi Hovannisian, there are also poverty-related
problems such as prostitution, substance abuse, and the particular
the problem of street children. "Raffi and I were raised
to think of Armenia as a family," explains Armine Hovannisian.
"For a while, I felt as though I was becoming apathetic and
god forbid that we ever forget caring about people. Every time we
ate at a restaurant we saw children begging on the streets, and
realized that what we had just eaten could have fed those children.
I felt guilty, and to help the children in Kond was like helping
our own children. Raffi was supportive of me all the way." In April last year, Armine
Hovannisian established the "Orran" [haven] center near
Kond to address the needs of the most vulnerable living in Kond.
It's mission was simple, to divert children away from life on the
streets, and to help the vulnerable elderly. Initially catering
for sixteen children, within sox months it had grown to accommodate
forty children and twenty-six elderly. Pensioners receive breakfast
at the center before the children gather after school for lunch
prepared under the strict guidance of the center's nutritionist.
After their meal, children
then start their homework under the supervision of educational specialists,
and social workers visit the families of the children to identify
any problems that exist, sometimes simply the need for clothing.
One obvious problem to be seen walking through Kond is children
with shaved heads, indicating a problem with hair lice, and the
center also arranges medical checkups and facilitates their visit
to a bathhouse twice a week. However, the problems facing
vulnerable families in Armenia are not isolated to Kond. Armine
Hovannisian also says it is her intention to establish similar centers
in other residential areas of Yerevan. Even ten years after independence,
poverty is still widespread throughout the capital as well as the
country, and while everyone in Kond is grateful for her work, such
initiatives can only alleviate the symptoms, rather than solve the
problem of street children and vulnerable families in Yerevan. "We are hungry and there's
no work," says one fifty-one year old living in Kond. Before
independence, his wife says Rubik had been one of Yerevan's finest
Armenian chefs, but that now they can not even afford sufficient
food, or heating during the winter months. Living like many others
in Kond in just one room with two children, Rubik says he also needs
an operation on his heart but can not afford the $3,600 that defines
a deceptively expensive heath care system. "I don't want to leave
Armenia," he continues. "I just want to work, but what
hope is there? Maybe there are only 500,000 left in Yerevan, but
I remember when you had to fight your way through people on the
streets. But now?" Behind him, the wall still bears the scars
of the 1988 earthquake hundreds of kilometers further north, but
which hit some residential districts of Yerevan as well. Things
are however, better now that his children, Rouzana and Levon attend
Orran. A few streets away, fifty-three
year old Osana is crying. Living with her daughter-in-law and three
grandchildren in yet another small and dark room that serves as
the bedroom and kitchen for the whole family, her son died twenty
days earlier. Asking how life is for the family, she shrugs her
shoulders. "When I think about it, my heard hurts," she
says. Although born in Armenia, Hovannisian left the country in 1974 at the age of ten before returning with her husband in 1989. Responsible for other educational projects in the republic, she says that Orran was started more as a hobby than anything else, but has now grown to take on a life of its own. The Hovannisians inject $2,000 of their own money into the center every month, and are currently trying to raise $180,000 to move the project into a purpose-built building. She wants to highlight other successes, and says that while the problems facing those living in Kond still persist, there are now children receiving assistance that would have otherwise been relegated to begging on the streets. She especially wants to introduce one young girl. Nine-year old Armine is just one of many straight-A achievers at school thanks to Orran, and her mother now works at the center. In the center's brochure, and on its web site, Armine's story gives a little hope in an otherwise depressing situation. "I was so happy to go school in September
with my new clothes. I even took flowers for my teacher. When I
grow up I will help Orran." For more information on Kond's vulnerable
children and the Orran center, visit the Web site www.orran.am.
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