Category: Chronicles

Maria Beatrice's parents are fighting to give a chance to thousands of other children who are born prematurely in Romania and in need of recovery.

Text by Vlad Odobescu

Iulia and Sebastian Onac met in high school, and after that life took them for a while in different directions. But they both became teachers — she of English, she of computer science — and met again in a baccalaureate exam. From there their relationship bonded and they formed a family. 

Their little girl, Maria Beatrice, came into the world in August 2008, earlier than she should have. At birth received a general diagnosis: disorder of neuromotor development. When he was a year old, the final diagnosis came: cerebral palsy. This means that Maria Beatrice can't coordinate her movements properly, she doesn't walk and she doesn't talk. "The moment such a diagnosis is made for your child, you don't really realize what's going on," says Sebastian Onac. 

They started going wherever they thought they could get the right help for Maria Beatrice: at hospitals in Sibiu and Cluj-Napoca, then in Germany and Ukraine. "The costs for roads and hospitalizations have become enormous, because in Romania we could not find what would have been needed for such a child. In Germany or in Ukraine we found, but the costs were 3,000-3,500 euros for two weeks," says Sebastian Onac. With a road in Germany of 10,000 euros and three roads in Ukraine of 3,000 euros each, they finished all the money raised from charity events organized for Maria Beatrice in Alba Iulia and Cluj-Napoca.

It's a pretty difficult exercise to be grateful for what's happened over the last 20 years, but it's worth seeing how the non-governmental sector has managed to grow.

By George Gurescu

This year, we are celebrating two decades since ARC appeared. If the years of an NGO are measured the same as in cats or dogs, we are at a venerable age.  the work of a man in an association often means working in two to three positions simultaneously. 

We sat in the organization and looked at what had happened in these 20 years in the country. And despite the despair and bitterness that weighs on us all when we watch the news, things have changed. It's a rather difficult exercise to be grateful for what has happened in these 20 years, but it's worth seeing how the non-governmental sector has managed to grow. We have responsible and head-to-heart philanthropy, we have donors who believe in causes up to the white canvases, and financiers who no longer aim to collect photo albums with annual Christmas collections. 

We are many, but sometimes it seems to us that we are so alone. There are small organizations that manage to move mountains or save forests, we have initiative groups in communes that stop demolition and restore our drinking water. And yet it sometimes seems to us that our work is in vain when we look into the hallways of city halls, prefectures and other public institutions. 

It's a bitter feeling, and this thought that we're nobody's in the community, in the neighborhood, in the family, everywhere, it ends us. That's why we created the Chronicles of Philanthropy. Not to complain, but to show that we are many, but we need to know each other.

The second edition of the Chronicles started from this need for (re)knowledge. In October we talked to the organizations in the south of the country, trying to find out what we can do to grow the non-governmental sector not only in the capital and the big cities, but also in Mangalia and Turnu Măgurele. 

In October, we organized the Well-in-Construction Caravan, an event through which we help organizations in a particular region with expertise and discussions with professionals and we set up (or complain about) the entire sector.  Know that we have extraordinary people in the south of the country who are pulling their teeth at the places they are fighting for, who need help and who need to be supported. Some of them we present to you in the second edition of the Chronicles and we will take you through Arges and Constanța. 

Just as many valcans, buzoieni or suceveni leave Bucharest to build something else in their hometowns, so there are many people from Oltenia or Constanta who want to do something else in the place that was their home, and our role is to help them. Not to increase the number of organizations, but to strengthen those local communities. When a young person chooses to make a career in another city, because he has no other way, it means that another community has lost another chance. Leaving the place where you grew up is not easy, regardless of the age at which you do it, but through our work, we would like this decision to no longer depend on politics, economics or the lack of kindergartens. A very good explanation comes from sociologist Barbu Mateescu, present in this edition. 

We want to look at the good and the bad in other places, and Marija Mitrović, from the Trag Foundation in Serbia (an organization similar to ours), shows us how, despite an extraordinarily volatile situation in the Balkan region, there is a lot of hope. 

We have an edition that, we hope, will encourage and strengthen you. It's a damn hard road, but we're together. Remember!

Relative poverty causes relative distrust in the southern counties of the country, but there are opportunities to change the situation.

Note: In this text, the phrases "Muntenia" or "southern Romania" do not include the Bucharest-Ilfov area and do not refer to it.

The civic profile of the Romanians is still influenced by the degree of exposure to communism. The older a man is, the more he has experienced compulsory community activities, that is, imposed by the totalitarian regime. Thus, naturally, entire generations have acquired a long-term phobia towards collective and collective activities . This phobia is absent among younger Romanians. Tell me the age profile of an area and I will be able to tell you, at least in part, how receptive that area is to civic activities.

From this point of view, the south of Romania has a relatively minor but significant deficit. Of the resident population of the entire country, according to INS data, 25.7% are 60 years old or older. Above the national average are precisely Oltenia (28.3%), Muntenia (27.8%) and south-eastern Romania (27.5%). Below the national average are the Banat, Transylvania and especially the Bucharest-Ilfov area.

A quasi-identical situation is encountered in economic terms. The financial constraints with which the average inhabitant of Muntenia operates are tougher than those faced by the transylvanian or the typical Bucharestian. In a context where individual or family economic survival is more difficult, the appetite to donate time or other types of resources is limited. And the three development regions in the south are among the last four in Romania in terms of average net salary. In other words, in the list of eight regions, the south is entirely in the second half of the ranking. On average, in the three regions, the average net salary is 2,828 RON. In the rest of the country – excluding Bucharest and Ilfov, which are financially on another planet – it is 158 RON higher. The difference, seemingly not very shocking, must be multiplied by millions of people to understand its impact at the level of communities. The relative poverty rate (in how many households the average income per adult is below 60% of the national median level?) describes a perhaps clearer picture. Relative poverty is present to a significantly higher extent in Oltenia (32% of households), South-Muntenia region (26%) or South-East (31%) than in the center of the country (21%), in Banat (15%) or in the North-West (also 15%).

Sorina Bunescu founded 15 years ago the Partner for You Association, in the Argeşean commune of Merișani. He has been struggling ever since to get the people of the place to get involved in debates and projects. On the other hand, they try to bring down to earth the local elders, those who always think they know better what to do. 

By Vlad Odobescu

About four years ago, Sorina Bunescu filed a petition with the Arges Prefecture. He wrote there that the mayor's office of Merișani commune does not debate on the local budget, as required by law. He knew that a petition that was not drafted would not be heeded, so he attached photos of the city hall bulletin board, print screens and other evidence. Since she founded the Partner for You Association (APT), 15 years ago, Sorina has learned that it is not enough to put a soul: you need to know legislation, to bring examples, to show all the ways that need to be straightened out.

After her approach, the city hall made a kind of public debate for the budget. At that first meeting there were only her and a citizen from the parish council, who had come to ask for the widening of the cemetery in the commune. It was a "simulacrum" of debate, Sorina recalls, but it was still a first step, because the institution understood that it had to tick at least such meetings. 

The following year there was no need for any intervention at the prefecture: in Merișani the budget was discussed, and there were three citizens in the hall. But then "very serious and beautiful" public debates began to be made, says Sorina. In the spring of this year there were four separate discussions, in the villages, in which the investment objectives were presented, and people could come up with proposals. About 50 people came, which is a lot for a commune. "I really like the change and to see that things change, no matter how unfriendly I am with the mayor. I can forget how she behaved, or how aggressive maybe I was. We forget, it's good that we are at this moment and we are happy," she says.