In a small cafeteria sits 14 men. From their appearance you can tell that they
are Lithuanian. Some of them have nicely
tanned faces, clean shaven and wearing clean clothes. We talk of everyday things, about the
weather, food, autumn. If you look more closely at them in their eyes you can
see a warm Lithuanian palpable sorrow. They miss genuine freedom. On the table is piled a package for each
person in which you will find fruit, biscuits, sweets, cigarettes, tobacco,
Lithuanian newspapers, handkerchiefs, tooth paste and other small items. Inside the room are two Adelaide Women
Society members who have brought the packages.
They have known these men for a long time.
They talk to each one of them. “I could leave, the doctor
would let me, just there is no one who will give me work. I am bored here”.
Others have been here for 12 years, and from appearance you
would think they could live like us.
Some have been here 6, 8 or 9 years, they all speak lovely Lithuanian,
some of them are real Žemaičiai (Samogitians), Dzukai or Aukštačiai (Highlanders)
(References to the regional groups of Lithuania). After an hour we say our
goodbyes. We visit 2 women and one man
lying in hospital. Going through the doors, the guard unlocks and then locks,
the doors with large rattling keys. The sound
goes through your heart. On the other
side of the door are our blood brothers.
Born on Lithuanian soil, grown up in the Lithuanian countryside, through
grass and forests they ran as children.
Today there are 17. Only a few remember them, only a few visit. Every 4-6 weeks they receive small gifts from
the Adelaide Women’s Society, so they are not forgotten.
The outside is beautifully kept, the lawn and flowers
trimmed, by the gate you notice a modest sign, “Parkside Mental Hospital”.
Bledzdingėles prie Torrenso, Lietuvių Isikurimas Pietų
Australijoj 1947 – 1962
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