Orphans caught in the middle

Orphans caught in the middle
By Noelle Knox, USA TODAY
BUCHAREST, Romania — Vasile doesn't know it, but he and the other 84,381 orphaned children in Romania are at the heart of a high-powered dispute that will decide where they can grow up. (Related photo gallery: The Romanian adoption ban)

Linda Robak takes her adopted daughter Laura, 5, to meet her biological family in Romania.
By Dinu Lazar, Getty Images for USA TODAY

David Clark blinks back tears as he talks about how his family in Leawood, Kan., wants to adopt 6-year-old Vasile but is afraid the documents won't be signed before a Romanian law, expected to be passed by the end of the month barring any last-minute compromise, ends international adoptions in this country forever.
Romanians know that's a drastic measure, but they argue it is the only way to stop the widespread corruption that has blurred the lines between adoption and child trafficking in too many cases.
International pressure has been building since the country put a temporary moratorium on inter-country adoptions in 2001. About 1,000 children have been allowed to leave through exemptions for children who are handicapped or older than 3, because their chances of finding families in Romania are so small. Those exemptions would essentially end under the proposed law.
Vasile has spent almost all of his life in orphanages.
"I think we could give him a good home," Clark says. He and his wife have a daughter adopted from Romania and another from China, plus a biological daughter and son.
Americans have adopted almost 8,300 children from Romania since the overthrow of Nicolae Ceausescu in 1989. Pictures of thousands of underfed and abused children in the country's prison-style orphanages sparked worldwide outrage and a huge demand for international adoption.
And while the work of many adoption agencies is noble, stories of corruption dog the industry.
Pressure to allow adoptions
For Romania, the decision to end international adoption is more complicated than King Solomon's choice — or his solution.
The orphan crisis in Romania is mired in its communist past, straining the country's relationship with the United States and threatening its future plans to join the European Union. Both sides in the issue feel they have the best interests of the children at heart.
The United States is putting intense pressure on the Romanian government to allow international adoptions if no domestic family can be found.
"One day, Romania will be able to take care of its own children," said Michael Guest, the U.S. ambassador to Romania, who helped stall the legislation in the Romanian parliament for almost a month. "Right now, there are more Romanian children that are abandoned than there are Romanian families ... available to take care of them."
But on the other side, the European Union supports the ban because of widespread corruption in adoptions and is pressing Romania to pass new child welfare laws. Romania hopes to join the EU in three years and is eager to please the trade and legal alliance.
The problem is complex because it has been woven over decades into the nation's social fabric, entwined with its past poverty and poor education system.
Alin Teodorescu, head of the chancellery for the prime minister, simplifies the history like this: "It all stems from a decision by Ceausescu and his government in 1966 to outlaw abortions." Abortions were the primary form of contraception. That year, the number of births tripled to 900,000.
"It was an unbelievable tragedy ... a large number of children were born unwanted," Teodorescu says.
After the revolution, "one of the first measures taken by the temporary government was to allow abortions. There were 1 million legal abortions in 1991," he says.
Two years ago, Romania launched an education campaign with the help of U.S. funding to teach women about family planning and other forms of birth control. The government also is training doctors and nurses to reduce the number of abortions.
Last year, there were 200,000 abortions in Romania, about the same number as children born, according to Alin Stanescu, director of the Institute for Mother and Child Protection.
Still, only 30% of women of child-bearing age use birth control, according to the government's last survey in 2000.
Zita was not one of them.
She is pregnant with her sixth child. She and the father, Csabi, gave two of their daughters to the state. One was adopted by Linda Robak of Connecticut. The other, who is almost deaf, is in foster care in Romania.
"I don't know if I can keep this baby," Zita says. "I want to bring the baby home, but I don't think it will be possible." Already, there are days the family doesn't have enough food, and her three other children look like they are malnourished and developing slowly.
The family lives in a one-room shack with a leaky roof, no water or electricity, in a village that is a four-hour drive north of Bucharest. She has no education. He has no job. They live on about $30 a month in state aid.
One international adoption, which costs an average of $15,000 — to cover the adoption agency's fee, travel, documentation and a donation to the local government for child welfare programs — is about twice what the average person here earns in a year. The temptation for many proved too great.
"The corruption is insidious," Teodorescu says, and then describes how a government official from a small town is often bribed: "First you buy him dinner, then it's a visit to the United States for a week and $1,000 discretionary spending from a charity. After that it's a car, then cash, after that it's a house. If you don't have administrative protection against that, you cannot stop it."
Plenty of people here also blame foreigners for distorting the market — by paying far more than any local family can — and fueling corruption by paying bribes. Before the moratorium, it was extremely difficult for Romanian families to find children to adopt, several government reports found.
Oddly, the number of domestic adoptions (1,383 last year) has hardly changed since the moratorium on international adoptions was put in place.
Better care for children
As Romania prepares to outlaw international adoption, it wants to show the world that the children in state care are living in better conditions. The government gave USA TODAY a tour of four of its new facilities in the capital.
Over half of the orphans now live with foster families or in apartments with round-the-clock social workers.
The two-bedroom apartment on the tour, while in a tenement block, was nicer than the average Bucharest apartment. The four handsome teenagers living there are all still in school and excelling in their studies.
The state also is opening day-care centers for orphans and needy families, also a new concept here. The center on the tour was spotless and decorated with Disney characters and children's art.
While all this provides some hope for orphans waiting to be adopted, it provides little comfort to Vasile and the parents who remain just out of reach, like the Clarks of Kansas.
"No. 1 is, find a real family for them to grow up in. Not a group home, where people come and go every day and no one but the kids lives there. They need permanent, good families," Clark says.
"My preference personally would be that (Vasile) come live with us," he says. "I will accept the fact that, if this is the way the Romanian people and the law go, I'm more than happy ...
"I want what's best for him."