Russian runaways find few willing to help them

Estimates of how many children are on their own in post-Soviet Russia range from 50,000 to more than 1 million. Nine different official agencies are charged with dealing with the problem, including the Education Ministry, Labor Ministry, and Interior Ministry.

In practice, little has been done as numbers of homeless kids exploded over the past decade. But this year a central commission, headed by Deputy Prime Minister Valentina Matvienko, was formed to coordinate policy and devise new approaches.

"Our data suggest the problem is growing and requires urgent solutions," says Sergei Vitelis, who heads the effort for the Education Ministry. "Most runaways are children from dysfunctional families, where there is alcoholism, violence, and abuse. In the absence of anywhere else to go, these children fall under the influence of false 'families', such as criminal gangs. We must provide systematic alternatives for them."

Oleg Mukhin and his friends at Vikhino station say they haven't seen any changes in the way the police deal with them.

A more optimistic picture can be found at "Little Runaways," a private shelter in the Moscow suburb of Medvedkovo, funded by Assistance to Russian Orphans, a nongovernmental charity supported by various international agencies including USAID. The center was founded two years ago by Andrei Babushkin, a local politician and champion of children's rights whose main aim was to reach street children before the police did. Several former street children work as volunteer counselors for the shelter, and charity groups contribute food, clothing, and books.

"We are creating a database of abandoned and runaway kids in Moscow," says Mr. Babushkin. "We bring them here, feed them, listen to their stories, and refer them on to other specialized agencies, foster homes, or back to their own families. We've made enough progress that the local police have started bringing street kids to us."

Babushkin acknowledges that his center is not a solution, but he hopes that authorities will take note of the model. The cramped former communal flat has space for only about 20 children to sleep, and, he says, and its resources are "extremely meager." Still, several kids in the center's library/sitting room one day last week seemed clean and relaxed, and said they were happy to have found their way there.

"You can't do anything with a young person until you get to know him or her personally," says Andrei Mayakov, 17, who spent three years on the streets before coming to work at the center. "But once you're friends, you can start helping them with their future plans."

Babushkin agrees that Russian officials are becoming more sensitive to the plight of homeless children, but he smiles wryly at mention of the Matvienko commission. "There are two ways to deal with a problem: One is to do something, and the other is to form a committee," he says with a shrug.

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