Abandoned and no one cares -- Houses of Paper in Romania

From Jurnalul National 28 December 2005

"Abandoned and no one cares -- Houses of Paper in Romania"

by Ionut Dulamita

The recent report from the European Commission reveals that in the domain of Public Administration, the Romanian authorities are incompetent. Their incompetence blemishes the whole calendar for Romania's integration into the EU. One example of this is the "City of Cardboard and Asbestos" in the heart of the Jiu Valley.

From one bank of the West Jiu river, the eye takes in a vista of several rustic, primitive pavilions. What you see from two steps away is the reality of three barrack-type pavilions with asbestos roofs -- "The City of Cardboard".

The whole setting is sprinkled with enclosures for weaned pigs and assorted outbuildings. These enclosures are made of vine props and latticework and shelter a wide variety of weeds small hothouses. Chicken coops cobbled together out of mismatched boards and pieces of cardboard complete the scene. One sees, of all things, a child trying to find a place to play among these ramshackle dilapidated buildings instead of a pig rooting around in the ground.

The rags which are the children's clothing hang on washlines or on the fences. People swarm about with wash basins and buckets and children in their arms. Others feed a few pigs or try to tidy up around their houses, stopping occasionally to make conversation with their neighbors. They speak very loudly as if they were arguing, maybe because there are noisy children nearby. The children play next to ruins filled with garbage which appears to be an old, dilapidated building. With faces dirtied by mud and worn out clothing covered with soot, they gather in front of the photographer.

The dwellers in these pavilions of cardboard are reticent people. They stop for a moment, measure you with their eyes, and then return to their business. They have tired eyes which are without expression and hardened faces. They cast questioning glances and seem ashamed in the presence of strangers. Nevertheless, an older man boldly approached us and with a sigh announced "I'm a writer. I am also retired from the mine." He gathered a collection of stories for children but didn't want to have them published. Another resident, upset by all the noise, stuck his head out the window and cut in to the conversation, "It's O.K. here in the cardboard. Let us alone." The only one who was not shy to speak about life in these cardboard houses was Marian. At 21 years of age he is not afraid of anyone. We went up with him to his apartment. Each apartment has one or two rooms. Uninsulated electric wires run along the wall, pairs of shoes instead of doormats are seen in the hallways, and a multitude of voices is heard behind the closed doors.

Uninsulated electric wires are woven throughout Marian's apartment. They come from a jerry-rigged electric panel full of fuses and without a cover. The young man says that the residents have improvised the entire electric current network in the houses. A small closet-like room functions as the kitchen where Marian's wife cooks on a hot plate. The walls are very thin.

Now, 59 families live in similar conditions in these dwellings which are considered government subsidized housing. "You earn enough to eat for one day and only live from day to day," said Marian. There is no heat in these houses. Most of them heat using hot plates, but they do not pay for their electricity because it is subsidized by the government. In the winter, the hotplates run uninterrupted and even so, water freezes in mugs and cooking oil in the jars because the walls are so thin. The children gather on the banks of the river and sometimes set an abandoned tire on fire. One said, "You ought to see what kind of campfire comes from these."

Although some have running water from the town of Aninoasa, many of these do not have drains in their houses and are thus forced to take out the water in basins. It is also necessary to take care of bathroom needs outside in nature. The ground between these pavilions is always flooded and has a terrible smell. It is a veritable swamp in which bags, cans, and plastic jugs are stuck. There is no sign of a garbage can or dumpster. Some of the garbage is also scattered along the edge of the road. Also found here are moldy clothes, bags, burned two liter bottles and construction waste which form a heap which is more than knee-deep. "Once or twice a year somebody comes to remove the stuff from the side of the road," said Marian. He added, "You go out of the house and see nothing but garbage. There is no way you can have a healthy child in this place."