That morning I woke early, showered, shaved and put on my best trousers, shirt and tie. Dan would take me into Reykjavik, as our training camp was about 30 miles from Össur’s office. We were going to be a few hours so we generously gave the students the morning off.
Our appointment was with Mrs. Sigurborg Arnarsdóttir, who was the Manager of Treasury & Investor Relations. One of her jobs was to allocate funds and resources to non-profit and charitable projects. Dan and I sat in their grand boardroom waiting for Sigurborg and looking through Össur’s brochure. One of the most striking images in their brochure was of a boy, probably around 13 or 14 years old, standing by the side of a swimming pool. He was wearing a blue, white and yellow Össur t-shirt; he was a double amputee, like Maria, loosing his legs just below the hip. But he stood with his two prosthetic legs in his Nike training shoes, hand on hip, looking confident, assured and happy. This is what Inna and I wished for Maria. We wished that we would someday see her standing in the same way.
Sigurborg came in apologizing for keeping us waiting. I looked at the clock on the wall above the MD’s chair - she was about a minute late but apparently the Icelandics were extremely punctual. A colleague came in with Sigurborg and offered us coffee, which we gladly accepted - we weren’t yet half way through the training course and the effects were already taking its toll. I was getting too old for this tough, hard life.
Sigurborg sat in front of us and introduced herself. Like most Icelandics, her English was excellent. She had been working for Össur for quite a number of years. She told us that the company was named after its founder, Össur Kristinsson. An amputee himself, he studied prosthetics in Sweden before starting Össur in 1971. Back then the prosthetic industry was at its infancy and a comfortable prosthetic was virtually unheard of. Amputees simply could not lead a normal life. Össur Kristinsson’s clinic took most of his time and so the evenings and weekends he spent looking for and developing new innovations and designs that would give the prosthetic wearer more comfort and allow him or her to lead a much fuller life. It was awarded its first patent in 1986. Össur are now well-known leaders in the field of prosthetics. Apart from its head office in Iceland, it also has offices in North America and Europe. I listened as she described their products; prosthetic feet, silicone liners and the amazing knee joints used by amputee athletes. I thought about Maria pushing herself around on her little wooden platform and could never image that there were so many interesting innovations helping amputees. It was hard to believe that in a world of technology there are still people relying upon a block of wood, four rickety wheels and an old belt.
I spoke to Sigurborg, telling her all about Maria in Moscow, and about the telephone call we had back in Norwich with a promise of total support. I was really hoping that Össur would also help us. We sat chatting for about an hour when Sigurborg excused herself; she wanted to talk to her Director. We were brought another coffee and more cookies which were warmly welcomed as my stomach had started to rumble loudly. Dan and I sat quietly, looking around at the photographs on the wall. After about ten minutes, Sigurborg returned and said they would be pleased to help. They would donate the limbs as long as we could get the cosmetic coverings, which had already been promised to us. It was fantastic news. I could go back to England and surprise Inna.
I must admit I spent the rest of the week not really concentrating on the students but on how things were going to develop with Maria and what was eventually going to happen. I day-dreamed that she was off the streets and walking, and going to work every day, and coming home to her son and picking him up off the ground, and going to the cinema, and doing all the wonderful things she has never done. In my exaggerated and sometimes intense imagination, I also had dreams that Inna and I were back in Russia running a little sanctuary for other disabled and infirm and destitute, offering them hope in a world of despair, offering them charity in a world full of selfishness and greed.
After listening to Sigurborg talking about Össur and everything it did for amputees, I felt there was so much more to do after we had finished helping Maria. There were so many more people to help. My head has always been full of dreams and I knew that some of my dreams were unattainable, unrealistic, but I dreamt them anyway. I knew that without dreams nothing would ever be achieved.
***
I got back to the UK the day before Inna was due to arrive home. It took me almost a day to sort through the mail and e-mails. I cleaned the apartment and bought some Inna some flowers for her return. Our apartment was tiny and sparsely decorated, but it was nice to come home nevertheless. I still enjoyed travelling but, more and more and as I got older, I prefered the security of being at home and the familiarity of recognizable things, people and places.
Meeting Inna off the plane was always nice. Like me, she likes travelling and she really enjoys going back to see her family and friends, but she was also pleased to be returning to the UK, to her new home. She missed Moscow but in a virtual way; as soon as she arrived at the drab, depressive Sheremetyevo airport and after queuing for hours at passport control and inching her way through the surly customs and scrambling past the hordes of taxi-hagglers and driving home in the impossible traffic, past the rows and rows of dreary tenement blocks, she realised that there wasn’t much to miss about the country after all. Her family was all that was really missed.
Inna had found Maria begging at her usual spot at the usual metro station. She was huddled up against the cold, looking pretty miserable, but her eyes lit up and a beaming smile spread across her pretty face as soon as she saw Inna. She said she never expected to see her again, and it was a wonderful surprise.
Inna was with her grandmother. Inna had spoken to her grandmother at length about Maria and how we were helping her walk again. Perhaps she was a little suspicious, but certainly very intrigued and wanted to meet her. They all hugged and kissed and sat for a while huddled in the corner, chatting. Inna then arranged to meet Maria a few days later, when she could bring her the presents and money we had raised.
When Inna and Maria met again, it wasn’t snowing, but crispy clear. Inna took Maria to McDonalds and bought her a huge burger, large fries, strawberry shake and ice-cream. McDonalds was one of the only places in Moscow that actually had some facilities for the disabled and every couple of months Maria would take Anton there and they would sit together in a quiet corner having fun eating as much as they could afford. It was a real treat for them both. The Russians love their ice-cream. It can be minus 20 degrees, snowing heavily, and yet they still wonder about enjoying a good ice-cream. I suppose one advantage of eating ice-cream in the cold is that it doesn’t melt and your hands don’t get sticky.
Inna gave Maria the money we had collected, and the clothes and toys people had given us for her son, as well as a small Bible given by Joyce, a member of Inna’s Russian group. Maria was so grateful; she really didn’t think she would ever see Inna again. The money, she said, would go towards helping to pay for kindergarten and the bible she would take with her everywhere, it will help protect her.
While they sat looking out to the snowy pavement, Inna spoke to her about the call we had from the celebrity’s wife. She didn’t mention to Maria who it was, just that we had met a wealthy woman very keen on helping Maria walk again, and who had some very good contacts in the field of prosthetic limbs, and she could get Maria some very good, brand-new legs. Maria was excited and listened to Inna intently, slurping and sucking at her milkshake. Maria explained that she already had artificial legs; a couple of years earlier, thinking legs would be better than her platform and not knowing any better, Lydmilla more or less forced Maria to attend a clinic where the government gave her prosthetics. The doctors were rude and clumsy and the examination painful. The legs she was given made her bleed and bruised her, and she had to fix them onto her torso with awful leather straps, which meant she couldn’t even use the toilet without taking her legs off. They were so uncomfor
table and clumsy and old, she rarely wore them - only on a few rare occasions. She preferred to remain on her wooden platform. Inna tried to explain that these legs would be different, that the woman helping her knew and understood that if she had uncomfortable legs she would never wear them and so she would only provide new, comfortable legs. Maria didn’t believe it was possible. She had only seen old Soviet style prosthetics and couldn’t understand that there were other types, but she reluctantly nodded and agreed. If indeed it was possible then it would be wonderful, but she knew it wasn’t.
Inna bought Maria a mobile phone, in that way it would be possible for us to keep in more regular contact with her, especially important as things began to develop. We would need to talk to Maria in order to update and arrange everything. She wouldn’t need to call us, but we needed to be able to call her, so she would have nothing to pay on the phone herself.
Maria seemed more confident with us and our promises. She understood we were serious about her, and cared for her, and had devoted our time in raising money for her. She still couldn’t believe it though; she simply could not believe that people in another country so far away actually cared for her and her son and really wanted to help.
Inna understood that Maria desperately wanted to do something with her life. Maria dreamed about being able to help others too. Other street-people often came to her asking advice or seeking help. She enjoyed trying to work out other people’s problems, trying to help them around difficult situations, being there for them. Her life was harsh and hard but she wasn’t just preoccupied with her own survival; she cared for others around her too. She wanted to be a good mother, not a mother that begged at a dirty metro station, but a mother her son could one day look up to with pride; a mother that will one day do wonderful things.
There was sincere emotion in Maria’s eyes as they said their farewells. She didn’t cry, she had long since hardened herself to the traumas of life begging on the streets, but she saw there was new hope. Being pragmatic, Inna warned her that these things might take a long time, or they might not actually happen but Maria knew this;she understood that the world is full of false hopes, but she still preferred to hope than to have nothing.
***
With the involvement or the weathly woman and Össur’s donation of new prosthetic legs, we were doubly motivated to raise more money and so, when Inna returned from Moscow we resumed our Sunday march round the streets of Norwich, popping leaflets through letter boxes and waiting for an occasional cheque on our doormat.
On the 29 March both Össur and our benefactor’s Personal Assistant contacted us by e-mail asking for some photos of Maria so they can gauge her level of disability. The day after sending them images, we had a reply once again from our benefactor’s Personal Assistant saying that the clinic in the UK, which was ear-market to fit Maria’s limbs, already had their charitable budget taken up for the next couple of years and it was doubtful whether they would have any more funds available. This was surprising, as our benefactor had pledged to sponsor Maria from her own personal funds and not via the charity. We felt sure that their email was just a mistake, a slight misunderstanding of some kind and so wrote back clarifying what we were told on the phone a few weeks beforehand; that the benefactor would do this off her own back and not via her charity. Maria had already begun talking about a new life, a life like everyone else, proud, fulfilled, happy and we were stressed and worried and upset that we might have to go back to Maria and tell her that the promises our wealthy lady had made, had now been withdrawn. A day or so later we heard back benefactor’s Personal Assistant; apparently yes, there had been some kind of misunderstanding, and that the benefactor was indeed funding the project independently. We were told that they were in the process of working out the costs of the project and that they would liaise with Össur regarding organization and logistics and getting, and fitting Maria’s new limbs. Inna and I both breathed a huge sigh of relief. We were told that the project would take two weeks from start to finish and that Maria would have to stay in Hampshire near the clinic, and could we send them photographs of Maria’s residual limbs which they would then pass onto the clinic. We were then asked what budget we had for Maria’s travel and accommodation and whether we had already made any arrangements! This reply was nothing like our benefactor’s original telephone call when she had originally told us that she would bring Maria over to the UK and cover all the expenses of having new legs fitted, and Inna and I had genuinely thought that this was what she was going to do. Now she was asking for money from us to do this! It would have been impossible for us to save the money needed to pay for Maria’s flight and two weeks accommodation. It would probably cost at least £1000, possibly a lot more and we simply did not have that kind of money and it would be doubtful if we could raise that much either. It was 4am, I couldn’t sleep with the worry of everything and felt I had to write back and so I got up out of bed, turned on the PC and wrote a reply saying once again that our benefactor had promised us that she will commit herself to this project, personally and not through her charity, which we said was great news as we are not wealthy and could not finance any of this project ourselves. She even confirmed everything a second time just before Inna left for Moscow, and that yes, we could indeed tell Maria as, of course, we did not want to promise something to Maria that we couldn’t fulfill. We got another reply saying yes, there was a bit of misunderstanding, and yes, everyone was indeed still committed. We were then asked which airport would be easier for Maria to fly from, and who would be coming with Maria because they wanted to know how many tickets they would need, would her son be coming? and maybe a helper? And what about Maria’s visa?
We felt a little bewildered because we had been having these contradictory emails. We then had an e-mail from Össur, which was great news as it seemed Össur were definitely steaming ahead and were already starting to make plans; literally just a few weeks after I had visited them at their office in Iceland they were now honoring their promise, without question, hesitation, doubt. This was fantastic. Össur were arranging for their prosthetist Mr. Jamie Gillespie, to fly to Moscow in April in order to evaluate Maria’s condition, which is vital for the type of limbs she will be receiving. Also, as Maria was amputated many years ago and has not used any artificial limbs regularly since, there was a possibility that her muscles in the residual limbs were too weak and her hip-joints could be too stiff to be able to make use of Össur’s products. However, if Maria was able to use prosthesis, Össur said they have a large range of products that they could provide.
So we knew that Jamie was going to Moscow and would definitely be seeing Maria. I now had to book Inna’s flight so that she could be there at the same time as Jamie. We had hardly any money ourselves, as Inna wasn’t working and I was struggling to support us both. There were some weekends when Inna and I had to survive on porridge as we hadn’t any money to buy food. But we did have a few pounds we had raised from leaflets and so we just about managed to scrape up enough to buy Inna’s ticket. We were both really excited: we couldn’t actually believe things were progressing so quickly. From the initial idea of just giving Maria some money, we had now managed to not only raise money but hopefully get her walking properly again for the first time in her life.
After a delay with his visa, Jamie emailed us saying that he had a very busy schedule all over Russia but would be in Moscow from the 24 to 28 April and that he hoped to meet with Maria during that time. I read once that the Russian Embassy in London had been voted by the expat community as one of the rudest Embassies anywhere in the world and instead of being helpful, Jamie was turned away on his first visit because there was a slight error in his documentation. But the second time was successful and he got his visa so everything was set. I also sent an email to our benefactor’s Personal Assistant confirming that Inna was on her way to Moscow as well.
Chapter Ten
To Moscow, again
So, after sc
raping enough money together, Inna flew out to Moscow on Thursday 22 April. We hadn’t yet received Jamie’s contact details or the address of the hotel where he would be staying, but Inna had a mobile phone and we sent an e-mail to Jamie with Inna’s contact details.
Jamie had been very busy in Russia as Össur was trying to develop close contacts with other prosthetic companies over there, and so most of Jamie’s time was spent in meetings and lecturing at conferences. It was going to be touch-and-go as to whether Inna could get Maria to meet Jamie, as she was not going to know until the very last minute exactly when Jamie was going to be in Moscow or where he was going to be staying. Once she knew, Inna then had to contact Maria and arrange to get her to Jamie. Inna felt sure that Maria would be begging at her normal place, but it wasn’t definite, things could have changed since she had last spoken to her and had tried calling her a couple of times, but her phone was turned off. Finally and at the last minute, Inna had managed to get hold of Maria and, at more or less the same time, Jamie had contacted Inna. He told her that he would be arriving by train from a city called Saratov, about 400 miles south-east of Moscow, where he had been at a conference. As the train took most of the day to reach Moscow, he arranged to meet Maria and Inna late in the afternoon at the hostel where Maria lived.
Inna made her way to the run-down hostel and called Maria from the lobby. Maria came down with Valery, her friend and helper. Although Maria seemed a little nervous, they hugged and kissed. Inna and Maria had become friends and Maria felt that Inna genuinely cared for her. Shortly after Inna arrived at the hostel, Jamie also arrived in a taxi direct from the train station. This was the first time Inna had met Jamie and she immediately warmed to him. She expected someone older and so was pleasantly surprised when he got out from the taxi. He was around 30 years-old, warm and friendly and was immediately very caring and sympathetic. He was with Maryana who, at that time, represented Össur in Russia. They sat in a small Russian style café adjacent to the lobby of the hotel and introduced themselves to each other. Maria was very nervous and sat quietly next to Inna, tightly holding her hand. After a few minutes of getting to know each other and pleasantries they all then went to Maria’s room. Jamie first examined her old Russian legs. He shook his head in despair; “no wonder they were so uncomfortable,” he remarked looking at the old worn out medieval sockets and liners. Jamie took out his laptop, plugged it into the wobbly two-pin wall socket and showed Maria the products that Össur would be providing. Maria stared at the screen, fascinated. He showed her pictures of all the components of the prosthetic legs and how they are all put together, as well as before and after images of other amputees. Jamie also asked if Maria had any objections to any publicity, as Össur wanted to put Maria’s Story onto their website. Maria said no, she didn’t mind at all.
Maria's Story Page 16
