September 25 , 2000

Dear Ternani #8

"Bambini Bielorussi"

Every summer the association "Aiutiamoli a Vivere" brings disadvantaged kids from Belarussia to Terni where they spend a month as the guests of local families. It would seem that these two groups would have very little in common - after all, Minsk is a long way away from Corso Tacito.

By the time I began photographing them last June the Belarussian kids had learned a little Italian while their Italian hosts spoke loudly and clearly to them in the universal language of love and attention. The kids enjoyed a month of being happily indulged by their "parents" at soccer games, barbecues, on trips to the beach and to the mountains, and weekly visits to the local swimming pool. Among many scenes that remain etched in my mind there are a few that really standout: the tanned faces of the kids after a day on the beach at Montalto; their ravenous appetites and immediate appreciation of Italian cuisine (of course, I have yet to meet a person who doesn't like Italian food!).

I remember those times when, like all kids, they pushed the boundaries set for them by their hosts who, like all parents had to suffer through the less than pleasant task of disciplining them. There were of course the occasional tearful outbursts or angry silences but they were proof that the bonds formed between children and adults were genuinely intimate. One grey Saturday morning in July it was finally time to say "goodbye". In the parking lot of the Continente there was a bus waiting to take the kids to Forlì where they would board a plane back to Belarussia.

This time tears were shed by all age groups as "parents" and "kids" struggled with "arrivaderci". I boarded the bus as it waited and in the back I found one boy bent over crying, his head in his hands. He had been one of the most boisterous and vocal boys in the group, a little "tough guy" who could be domineering, even obnoxious at times. Now, at the prospect of leaving, he exhibited a sensitive and vulnerable side that seemed totally out of character.

One of the Italian men boarded the bus, went over to him and put a consoling hand on his shoulder. I pushed the shutter button of my Leica and captured the moment; I consider the resulting photograph one of my strongest to date. For all of the sadness of that leavetaking last July I am happy to report that as I write this column many of those same Belarussian children are back in Terni with many of those same host families which proves that, at least in terms of love and affection, maybe Minsk and Corso Tacitio are not so distant from one another.