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