Helena & Emma volunteer at the children's home

Since I, Helena, helped run the organization's administrative side from the start, it wasn't until the summer of 2013 that I finally got the chance to travel to Montenegro to stay at the children's home and help with summer activities. My friend Emma joined me, as she also wanted to volunteer. Since neither of us understood the language, we were a little nervous, and after talking it over we decided that a group of younger children would be a good place to start.

We were welcomed by an incredibly beautiful view. The children's home sits right by the water, and the building itself is clearly architect designed. Milos, one of the organization's employed tutors and also my cousin, showed us around and explained how the home operates. The children live in groups spread across different corridors, organized into what are called "families." Meals are collected from a large communal kitchen, and dishes are left there afterward. Anyone quick to draw conclusions will realize that the children who grow up at the home have therefore never really been in a kitchen, or even washed a dish, by the time they're sent out into the world at 18.

On day one, we met our "family": eight children aged 2 to 4 that we would be helping to look after. It was a blisteringly hot day, so we walked down to the beach together to play at the water's edge. We were the first ones there, but soon more and more "families" arrived, each with one or at most two adults. On that first day we were a little worried; weren't there far too few adults for so many children on the beach? But as the days went on, it became clear this wasn't a problem. The children knew what they were allowed to do, and the adults kept a sharp eye on everyone. The first few days went smoothly, and the work flowed well. Despite relatively short working hours (we worked from 8:00 to 13:00), we were completely exhausted after each shift. Hours in the sun and countless new realizations every day. And children are demanding work! We could only admire the staff, who work far longer shifts than we did and still show up, day after day.

After a few days of observing everything around us, it became clear that the adults kept close watch over the children's safety and wellbeing. But having so few adults per child creates real problems. We had to keep reminding ourselves that this isn't a summer camp, or a daycare. This is the children's home: their everyday life, and the only thing that can give them a sense of support and security in themselves and in their future. With two adults for a group of eight children, adults who, on top of that, work different shifts and come and go, the children simply can't get the closeness and connection they need. How can staff give a child the attention they need when they also have to keep track of seven others at the same time? Especially when they're only there for a few hours before disappearing again.

Within our group, we could immediately see differences between the children: the ones who threw their arms up for a hug with the first adult they saw, the more reserved ones, and the ones who stirred up trouble just to get attention. We found it difficult to meet each child in the way they individually needed, even though there were four of us adults in our group. It's easy to see how impossible that becomes with only two. And then there are the infants, who have no one to build closeness with, or the teenagers who can't be reached by attentive, present adults.

The days went by. Some were easy and sunny, others harder to get through. One day left a particularly deep impression: a girl in our group wasn't allowed to come down to the beach with us. At first we didn't understand why, but as the day went on we learned it was because her father was coming to visit. He apparently lived in a nearby town but couldn't take care of her due to serious mental health struggles. We later found out that her mother also lived in the area, but was so physically ill that caring for her child was impossible. This girl was one of the most outgoing children in the group, happy, affectionate, and eager for attention. When we came back from the beach, she seemed like a completely different child. This three year old girl was now quiet and sad. All she did for the rest of the day was sit and stare at her shoes, a pair her father had given her as a gift, and now the first and only thing that truly belonged to her alone. That was when it struck us how important it is for these children to have something that is truly theirs, and not something belonging to the group that could be taken away from them at any moment. It was something we thought about a great deal afterward, and it helped us understand why another boy had been so protective of a ball. We don't know where he'd gotten it, but it was his. It was obvious from how upset he became whenever another child got hold of it. It was clearly his only possession, which might seem like a small thing. But at a children's home that, for all its dedicated staff and enough room for everyone, still can't give every child a parent to feel safe with, an easy path into society, or a sense of being a person rather than part of a collective, a ball can matter enormously.

It's incredibly hard to try to sum up everything we saw and felt during those weeks without writing a 50 page essay. I hope this gives some sense of how we tried to hold two truths at once: on one hand, seeing a children's home that works, and that is strikingly beautiful, and on the other, understanding just how hard it is to grow up within the constraints of a large children's home. What's clear, in any case, is that the work this organization does is needed, and that even more is needed still. Every child deserves a safe upbringing. A chance in life.

Helena & Emma