Hello from Vilnius :)

(My blogs are too long…Sorry :( Maybe think of them as a book that I publish one chapter at a time…)

Before Road to Change I couldn’t have told you the name of Lithuanian’s capital but now I’ll never forget it.

The walk here from Latvia brought some fresh challenges but before even leaving Riga poor Yvonne had her latest ordeal. Parked outside the Funky Hostel, some truck must have hit her. Stig and I came down one morning to discover her awning has been ripped off. We wont miss it until summer I guess…

The road itself wasn’t too unlike what I’d seen since Estonia. More random dogs perhaps. As I walk south through the Baltic States, the population of each nation expands and with it poverty becomes more evident. I’ve now seen homes in the EU that don’t even have running water. Some of the wee towns could make you question what year it is. 1930s? 1980s? 2040s? Many parts look like rural Scotland but the livestock are a bit more integrated with the houses. I’ve seen random horses and chickens wandering down quiet streets, seemingly ownerless. I thought I also saw lost cows too but when I got closer I realised that they don’t seem to bother with fences here. The fields either side of the road appear like the cattle can just wander in front of the traffic but actually cows wear a wee chain around their horns that fastens them to a patch of ground, about ten feet in diameter. Any wee patch of land can become a mini-field this way. A grass island beside a petrol station was home to the loneliest wee cow in the world :(

Not far passed the Lithuanian border, we found ourselves in a ghost town. It didn’t look like the inhabitants had been gone long, maybe an hour or so. Looking around for somewhere to park for the night and discovered where everyone was. The cemetery of course…The entire town gathered in the graveyard. Fresh flowers and glowing candles festooned every headstone. I wondered if this wee town had just experienced some horrific local tragedy but apparently this was happening in almost every wee town in Europe that night. I asked Facebook and quickly learned this was ‘All souls day’. My friend Miriam in Luxembourg explained it as ‘Catwalk Cemeteries’, the night all the ladies show off their fancy new winter coats. A heart warming sight and one I knew my wee mum would love. (She likes a well-flowered grave) Since then, every cemetery I’ve passed has been decorated this way but it doesn’t stop there. Tributes placed in loving memory by the side of the road, illuminating the site of tragic accidents. I’ve been passing them for months but now they’re alarmingly highlighted. About once evert ten kilometres. A constant reminder of the danger I face everyday. Two other guys who were on similar walks when I began have already been killed in road accidents. Richard Swanson, walking from Seattle to Brazil for World Hunger, and Joe Bell, walking across the United States to raise awareness of Homophobic Bullying (after his teenaged son Jaden hung himself)

Rain…We have no way to dry anything in Yvonne and the temperature inside can reach minus five during the night. Many mornings I’ve had to put on the wet kilt and squelchy boots, still damp from the day before. I’m happy to do this as I know I’ll be warm and dry again next week but walking so fast means I also sweat. A lot. I reach a point when my clothes are drenched from the inside out and the outside in. Spend nine days like this and you’ll find that your body decides when it’s had enough, but when a government offers me a meeting I must be there, so even though my body tells me to stop, I really can’t. Somewhere on route to Vilnius, my chest decided to celebrate the already joyous situation with a deep burny chest infection. Luckily, I had imagined this might happen so I had a course of antibiotics already with me. (This saved a whole load of hassle trying to find a doctor and using my EU medical card etc…) Still, I can’t walk if I develop pneumonia so a few nights before reaching Vilnius we tried to book into a hotel :) but we were ten Lits short…I mentioned this on Facebook and I was blown away by the response. A host of friends and acquaintances immediately got out their wallets to get Stig and I out of the freezing van. Within an hour, we were showered and in our onesies in a centrally-heated room. I’m walking around Europe to stop child sexual abuse, I have wondered if I might encounter so much evil that I might come to question the very fabric of humanity, but thankfully I encounter so much genuine kindness on this journey, my faith in the inherent good of mankind remains unshaken.

Walking for so long in wet clothes through Baltic wind, with a heavily congested chest, I began to dream (or possibly hallucinate…) about a hot bath. I don’t find them much on the road. That one night in Tallinn, in the Merchants House Hotel that the British Ambassador arranged for Stig and I, but that’s been it. In five months…I love baths. Maybe its a Piscean thing but back home in London, I’d sometimes take two a day. I know that’s a terrible waste of water and I’m sorry but it’s where I do most of my thinking, when I’m working on a script. Growing up in a three bedroom house with six siblings, plus mum and dad, the bath was the only place I used to find peace. I remember being eight years old, that stage when my folks stop throwing me in the tub with my brother and I’d started locking the door. I would spend as long as possible in there. Radio on, alone with my thoughts. One night, there was a knock at the bathroom door. Assuming it was one of my many big brothers needing to pee, I stood up and unlocked the door. My heart sank when my uncle’s bald head peered round at me. Locking the door behind him, he didn’t even pretend he had needed in to pee. Trapped, I just hoped that with my entire family downstairs, he wouldn’t be able to touch me for too long this time, as they’d hopefully wonder what was keeping him. After that, I stopped using the radio when I was in the bath, so I could hear if anyone arrived in our home. A few nights later, in the bath again, I heard a chap at our front door. Sure enough, it was him. He would just show up a few nights a week, so this wasn’t unusual. I heard him ask my mum where everyone was. With nine of us living there, it was rare to find the house so empty. Mum rattled off a long list of my sibling’s whereabouts, ending with “…and the weeman’s up in the bath”. I jumped out, trying frantically to dry myself and pull on clothes but my jeans wear inside out and they were still wearing my pants. Before I could pull them apart he knocked the bathroom door. With no one home to notice how long he’d be in here with me and my mum lost in her episode of Miss Marple, I knew I needed to get passed him and down stairs, where she could see me. She knew nothing of his behaviour but I figured he wouldn’t touch me with her in the room. Still naked and dripping wet, I just wrapped the biggest towel around myself and unlocked the door. Before he could even say hello I was already half way down the stairs. Reaching the bottom, I looked back and saw him holding up another towel. “You forgot to dry your hair”, he said as he gestured that I should go back up. I smiled, said nothing and went straight in to the living room. Knitting away while transfixed on some murder mystery, my mum was sat in the corner of the couch as always. Despite the room being otherwise empty, which afforded me the coveted opportunity to sit in my Dad’s big seat, I went over and sat as close to my mum as possible. When he returned from his fictional pee, my uncle sat right beside me. Feeling very naked, despite the massive towel, I reached under the couch and pulled out a quilt. It was common for us all to lie around under duvets watching TV so there was usually bedding stashed somewhere in our living room. Now safe under the turquoise quilt and jaggy towel, I felt I’d won this round but my plan failed. Still chatting away to my mum, he warmly put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. He was a very friendly man and as he was my Godfather, my mum had no reason to be concerned over his affectionate contact with her smallest son. Besides, his hand was still above the quilt, where she could see it, and it stayed there for about ten minutes as they talked about nothing. Eventually, he steered the conversation to the pile of videos in front of our ancient colour TV. My mum had recently been to Lourdes with our church and returned with a double box-set that had a wee book about St Bernadette inside. He feigned interest until she put down her knitting to go over and pick up the videos. As she stood up, his hand disappeared under the quilt and towel. Looking back, I am amazed at how calm I could remain in these moments. I never let any panic show on my face but I remember wondering what would happen if I just threw off the quilt and exposed what his hand was doing to me underneath, while he was still talking to my mum, his sister. I don’t blame her for not seeing it, he was a master of deception. Perhaps he got some extra thrill out of molesting me right in front of my mum, or maybe he was angry that I had tried to get away and this was his way of demonstrating to me that there was no escape, but whatever the reason I know that I simply do not understand how a person could sexually abuse their sister’s child while making light conversation with her, throughout the entire assault. I digress…but these are the kind of memories I ponder over as I walk…

Anyhoo…Finally reaching Vilnius, I saw it has the starkest contrast between the country side and the city. It’s sits in the distance like the Emerald City, a morass of bright lights and advertising plonked in the middle of a vast sullen landscape. If aliens ever landed here, they might assume this city is called ‘Samsung’ from the gigantic neon sign sitting smug on top the highest building. Home this week has been Jamaika hostel. It’s as chilled and the name suggests. The owners gave us a generous discount after seeing us on TV. Lithuania has been a relative success in regards media coverage of the walk. National TV coverage three times, two national newspapers and a live interview on national Radio. It was surreal walking into their equivalent of the BBC and hearing that only two decades ago the building was surrounded by Soviet Tanks. While ‘on air’ listeners called in with questions which had to be translated into English for me. A very angry sounding lady roared down the phone and I was quite intrigued to hear what she had just asked but the host skimmed over it and moved onto introduce Stig, who was sitting beside me. Stig’s entire radio debut consisted of the words ‘Yes. Hello!’. After this we were whisked out of the studio and back into the green room. I asked what the angry lady’s question had been but apparently there wasn’t really a question, more an incoherent rant about castration. Talking about Child Sexual Abuse often provokes an angry response and while as a race we don’t make the clearest decisions when angry, it is important that we let people voice their anger. Perhaps the lady had cursed live on air and this was why they cut her off, I couldn’t tell but if so I hope that was the only reason they ignored her. I remember learning in Sweden that (traditionally) women are not supposed to show anger. How then are the nation of survivors supposed to process their trauma? I’m walking to encourage people to Stop the Silence, we should let them shout or scream if they need to. I think so anyway…

As is becoming a Road to Change custom, my first appointment was with at the British Embassy for tea and pictures with the Ambassador, David Hunt. I had no sensitivity or diplomatic training before I began this project so the Ambassadors I’ve met have been an integral resource, sharing with me an understanding of where these countries stand in regards attitudes and developments in the area of child sexual abuse mitigation. The holy statues that decorate the road sides since the Latvian border where my first indication that this a predominantly Catholic country but it seems that isn’t the only factor contributing to Lithuania’s apprehension in speaking about child sexual abuse, individually and as a nation. The Ambassador referred to their historically recent Soviet occupation, describing it as a ‘deep freeze’. A time when progress in many areas of social affairs all but stopped. After an interesting hour, we stood to take the obligatory press picture and he suddenly looked at me and said ‘You’re the man from the Train!’. Any British person with young kids might possibly have seen the show but I really don’t think I look anything like the character anymore. I am always more surprised than them when folk recognise me…

Next, we visited the offices of Lithuania’s Save the Children. (http://gelbvaik.lt/) Their Director, Mrs Rasa Dicpetriene is an angel. She showered us with wonderful gifts and cakes that she’d bought for our arrival and listened intently as we spoke of our journey. Save the Children cover a broad range of areas concerning child maltreatment but Rasa told me about a recent study conducted solely by a Russian Lawyer. He visited child residential care-homes across Lithuania, which are currently home to around 5000 children, and deduced that 70% of these children had been sexually abused while in these ‘care homes’. 70%. Needless to say, a major reform in how staff are screened for these jobs needs to be implemented immediately.

Keep reading, you’re doing great :)

Then…We visited Paramos Vaikams Centras. (www.pvc.lt) Bit like the Moira Anderson Foundation back in Scotland, although Mrs Ausra’s centre deals with more than cases of sexual abuse. She told me Lithuania had once established the kind of specialised interview rooms for children to give police statements (that I’d seen in Latvia) but these are rarely used as intended. Perhaps lack of training or funding has caused this regression in their development of child protection procedures but she didn’t display much hope that this would be changing anytime soon. I asked why she felt the country was so lax in addressing child sexual abuse, she too referred to their Soviet era. Many people still fear causing a ‘drama’ and so often ignore abuse. She couldn’t imagine a Lithuanian man coming forward to say he had been abused or talk of how this has affected his adult life. They need change. I explained about the book, ‘My body belongs to me’ which the Embassy in Estonia had offered to pay for translating. She said, if such a book existed in Lithuanian, she would be delighted to include it in her work with families and child groups. I decided to see if I could make the same progress British Embassy here.

The Embassy’s support for Road to Change has been tremendous. They not only seek to set up appointments for us with Government, child protection organisations and media, they even provide translators to accompany me to them. Mida Babiliene and the kind ladies at Vilnius British Embassy took Stig and I for lunch, and another night took us out for dinner. They kept looking to see if we were eating everything on the plate. It’s like my wee mum has deployed spies everywhere :) Truly lovely lovely people and they were genuinely concerned that I had a chest infection and we’d been sleeping in a cold leaky van. Apparently, if I had explained how basic our living conditions were they would have done more to help. Amazed, I said I didn’t think the British Embassy would get involved in that area of the project. Mida gave me a knowing smile and reminded me that the people who work for the Embassy are also people, and as I’ve seen time and again, good people simply want to help us. “If there is anything else you need, please just ask” She said. This was my opportunity :) I explained how Tallinn’s British Embassy volunteered to find the funds to translate the storybook that teaches young children personal safety and asks if this might be possible here. A lot of emails and phone calls would need to follow to make this happen but she said she’d be happy to look at possibility :) Let the gentle reminder emails begin…When we returned to our hostel after this meeting, Rasa was standing in the foyer. She handed me an envelope and insisted we go out and feed ourselves properly, which we did. The cities indian restaurant came highly recommended and the crazy spiciness really helped clear out my chest :)

Again I visited the country’s ombudsman and again I presented research which clearly demonstrates the need to have the Statute of Limitations on reporting child sexual abuse removed. Bit technical here but try and follow this…I had heard that, unlike other EU countries that prescribed an allotted time period beginning when the child reaches eighteen, Lithuania simply has a law stating the victim has until the age of twenty-five to make their report, otherwise their evidence becomes invalid. I was pleased when they corrected me, saying the twenty-five year limit in fact begins once the child reach eighteen, making their limitation when the victim reaches the age of forty-three (far better than most EU countries) They noted my surprise at this and fetched the official law document to prove it to me. It was quite a moment when the ombudsman’s colleague returned crestfallen to announce that in fact I had been right to begin with. Lithuanian victims have until the age of twenty-five to make reports, worse than any EU country I had visited so far. Victims here have far more restricted rights than their European neighbours. They seemed genuinely concerned by our meeting and the evidence I had presented but I didn’t leave with the sense that they grasped the urgency of the reform sorely needed.

Rasa invited Stig and I to visit a residential home for children ‘Paparčių Vaikų Globos Namai’ just outside Vilnius, so on Sunday she drove us out to their big house in their tiny village. The kids were adorable. They reminded me of my own family, I have 10 nieces and nephews. (11 soon) Perhaps I avoid thinking about it but until I was there, I hadn’t realised how much I miss my family. Before I let this feeling overwhelm me, I realised how insensitive it was to be standing in a shared home for over twenty kids, thinking about how much I miss my family. We spent all day playing with them, even though they don’t speak English. They tended to simply repeat things at me, gradually getting louder, as if that will magically help me understand Lithuanian. At one point we brought everyone together and showed them the Road to Change News excerpt on TV. Rasa explained that I’m walking across Europe to stop bad things happening to them. They understood. She asked if they had any questions and they did. When is my birthday? Do I have a wife? Is that a little sword on my skirt? All excellent questions :) but then one girl asked if I have a dream. I was slightly disarmed by the beauty of the question and I recall saying something like my dream is the removal of the law that means people who do bad things to children can’t be stopped…Their wee eyes glazed over with boredom even before my answer was translated back into Lithuanian…

Her question stayed with me. Yes, Road to Change is about stopping child sexual abuse but why is that my dream? Well, from my own experience of being abused and the ongoing suffering I’ve seen it cause in my brother’s lives (and the lives many survivors I meet on this walk who become new friends) I don’t want this to happen to kids anymore because obviously its horrific and it steels nearly everything from them. Dignity, self esteem, trust in anyone, the list goes on and on…and I know one Scottish theatre critic said my writing can be a little too sentimental (it was in a review of a play I wrote about adoption…) but if I distill it down to one simple big dream I think it’s this: I don’t want anything to happen to children that stops them understanding how wonderful they are. Before I left their home, the kids gave me an angel that they had made to keep me safe on my walk.

Nearly time to get walking to Warsaw, Rasa took Stig and I shopping. She filled the trolley so full we could barely fit it all in Yvonne. She then took us both to get massages…Like I said, Rasa is an angel.

And if you’ve read this far, you are also an angel :)

Thank you for reading

Matty x

Road to Change on:
Lithuanian TV

Lithuanian Press

Lithuanian Radio (I’ll add this link asap)