Lamzira's story: SOS Children's Villages Georgia

Born and raised in Sukhumi, in today's breakaway region of Abkhazia, Lamzira hoped for a quiet peaceful life as a librarian, wife and mother. Soon after graduating from the local university, she married and gave birth to a baby daughter. Then her hell began.The war in the Abkhazia forced the Georgian population to flee to other parts of the country. Lamzira's family, like most refugees, settled in Kutaisi. The small family moved into what was then intended to be a temporary shelter in a classroom of an old school building. Sixteen years later, they still live there with fifteen other families.

Her refuge

The conditions are terrible. Leaking roofs, broken windows, makeshift kitchens in the hallway, constant electricity problems, broken floors through which you can clearly see the basement, run-down stairways, outhouses for toilets and a stingy, stale smell of despair. Lamzira pushes a wide wooden board. At first you might think it held a hole in the wall shut, but it is, in fact, the door to her one-room flat. Inside are one old metal bed, two worn sofas, two small coffee tables, two old armchairs and a worn-down shelf-cabinet. The only light comes from the high windows, some of which are covered with blankets. The only bright element in Lamzira's home is Lamzira herself.

Her trials

Lamzira begins her story. "We were happy sixteen years ago. This room was a bit brighter and our second daughter, who was born shortly after we came to Kutaisi, made it even brighter. My husband was only able to find work as physical labourer, but he didn't complain. For four years we lived poorly but happily.

Our third child only lived for eight months. A year later, we lost another baby. Stillborn. Again I went through agony and despair. I think half the time I wasn't even aware of the world around me. Still I pulled through and convinced myself this was the last test God had given me on.

My fifth pregnancy went smoothly and I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Healthy - that's what I thought at least. During the birth, I lost a lot of blood and had to be given a transfusion. Two years later, I was contacted by the maternity hospital and asked to come in for tests. I was to bring my whole family.The blood which was given to me was donated by someone with HIV that had since died. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. We were all tested. My husband and my two girls were negative. The results were grim for me and my son. Both positive.

Her anger

It was then that I lost it. Alcohol was the only comfort I could find. The drunken haze was my refuge, my shelter.I do not hide the fact that I'm HIV positive. All my neighbours, friends and relatives know. I immediately informed my son's kindergarten. The teachers were very supportive and not judgemental at all. It was not the same with the parents though. Most wanted my son out of the kindergarten or at least not in the same room as their children. I tried to speak to some of them. To teach them about how the disease is spread. To tell them that the kindergarten teachers know what to do if he accidentally hurts himself or cuts himself. Never have I heard harsher words thrown at me. I was living a nightmare.

Her bright spot

I met Lela [a social worker and programme's coordinator] by chance in the yard of my building two years ago. She was already working with other families from my building who had nothing but praise for her efforts. She spoke to me briefly and suggested that I came down the office to talk in more detail.

And so we became beneficiaries of the family strengthening programme. I would have been satisfied just with the food and hygiene packages we got and occasional second-hand clothes, but Lela insisted on family development as well. Why, I thought? What's the point? Why develop an end? She began seeing me on a regular basis. We spoke for hours. Lela consoled me and supported me. She counselled me and was constantly pushing me to be an active parent. It dawned on me then. If this woman, who was almost a stranger, could care so much for my family, why the heck wasn't I doing the same?

Her cheer

I stopped drinking. I haven't touched a bottle in two years. I began seeing the beauty of life. The jingle of children's laughter and bright colours of the spring. I regained my faith in people and my faith in God. I realized it was not a test, it was not a punishment. It's just life and life can be harsh. My little boy started school and I became a member of the parents' board. I started working more with my girls on their education and through that we grew closer. They confide in me as I always hoped they would. I followed carefully the goals we set together with Lela and worked hard to achieve them.

I still do. This is my life now. I said goodbye to that sad sick woman and opened way for the new smiling one. I can say that I'm happy. I don't know how long I have left. I am well now, but I know enough about HIV to know how it can progress. My only constant worry now is the health of my son.

SOS Social Centre beneficiary, Georgia

Her smile

He is in the third grade, is excellent at maths and loves playing with his school friends. These parents are different. They don't tell their children not to play with him or visit us at our home. They are poor, like us. Maybe our joint struggle against poverty makes them see the people in us. Maybe my attitude contributes to their awareness. They see me, Lamzira, a bright 40-year-old who's a little too chubby. They see my boy, a skinny eight-year-old with great talent. They don't see the virus.

I am thankful for the brightness which came to my life two years ago. I am spiritually at peace. I am calm and I am happy. I enjoy every moment. I treasure every hug and every kiss. I don't hold a grudge anymore. I am not angry. I am thankful and I smile."

Her boy

The school that Lamzira's son attends is just behind their building and he's now got a break. He runs out of his classroom and passes a note to his mum. He got a 10 [the top mark]. Again! He smiles shyly and then he runs back to his friends. He looks like a little gentleman in his black and white school uniform. He's got dark hair, bright eyes, likes to play hide-and-seek and to smile. His name is Giorgi.

At present there are two SOS Children's Villages in Georgia, two SOS Youth Homes, one SOS Nursery and four SOS Social Centres.