A Year in Moldova, A Year of Discovery: A Volunteer Memoir

By Roberta M. Gubbins, Esq.

In 2003, spurred by the events of 9/11, 65-year-old Roberta Gubbins accepted the offer of a year-long volunteer/ lawyer position with the American Bar Association/Central & Eastern European Law Initiative in the Republic of Moldova. She left the practice of law, sold her house, and put her belongings in storage. Then, packing up what she thought she'd need in seven suitcases, her cat in his travel crate, her computer, and assorted items in a carry-on, she took the twenty-plus hour plane trip to Moldova.

While there, she discovered a different culture and learned how to adapt her skills in a new and impoverished environment. She left home a lawyer; she came back a writer. A Year in Moldova, A Year of Discovery, A Volunteer Memoir is a record of her personal growth and her efforts to help the legal community change from a Communist model to a Democratic one while encouraging self-determination and self-reliance. As one Judge said, "Roberta, you are giving them the pole, not the fish."

Roberta Gubbins earned her Batchelor's Degree in Journalism at the University of Michigan and a Masters of Education at the University of Cincinnati. After many years teaching elementary school, she earned a JD at Detroit College of Law. She now spends her time in Mason, MI, writing fiction under the pen name Alexandra Hawthorne and editing legal newsletters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667819310

Book preview

Dedication

Dedicated to all the volunteers who give of their time and treasure to make the world a better place for all.

Prologue

Bratislava

My hotel room in Bratislava, Slovakia, overlooked the river Danube, a muddy brown, not the beautiful blue of the song. Looking out the rain-spattered window, I could see the bridge called Novy Most, which I later learned meant New Bridge. A saucer-shaped form, looking like a recent landing of a UFO but was, in fact, a closed restaurant, perched atop the cement pillars at one end.

I turned away from the window, picked up my suitcase, placed it on the bed, and began to unpack. I wanted to be ready for the meetings that would start the next day.

I was in Bratislava that February to attend the winter meeting of the American Bar Association’s Central Europe and Eurasian Law Initiative (ABA/CEELI). I had come to learn about my newly accepted assignment as a Criminal Law volunteer attorney in the Republic of Moldova, a tiny country in Eastern Europe, where I was scheduled to begin work in late April.

After I finished unpacking, I took a shower and stretched out on the bed and thought about the events of the past twenty-plus hours of traveling.

I arrived at the bus station in Bratislava by a route caused by a cancelled flight that took me by air from Detroit to Cincinnati to Paris and, finally, to Vienna, Austria. When we landed in Vienna, I looked around the brightly lit airport, searching for a visitor kiosk. Finding one tucked in a corner, I learned that I was to take a bus to Bratislava from Vienna. So, I changed some money into Euros, bought a ticket, and stood in the right place to wait for the bus.

While I stood waiting, an elderly gentleman approached. He tipped his hat, asking in halting English how to get tickets for the bus. Having already purchased a ticket, I waved my arms and pointed until he figured out what I meant.

He returned, and we were joined by a number of folks eager to get to Bratislava. Finally, the bus arrived, and we loaded up. After traveling a few miles, we came to the border separating Austria from Slovakia. A guard dressed in black military garb with a large rifle and serious expression got on the bus, took our passports and disappeared. Not knowing the complexities of crossing borders, I was a little concerned. However, as the other passengers seemed relaxed, I figured all would be well. After some time, the soldier came back, returned my passport and we were on our way to the city.

The next question was, Where do I get off the bus? I decided the best bet was to stay on until it finally stopped, which it did in the city’s center. The Bratislava bus station was the first building constructed by the former Soviet Union I had ever seen. The structure was made of cement block, Russia’s favorite building material. The cement was crumbling in places. The dirty windows and burned-out overhead lights made it dark and dingy inside.

As I looked around, I realized that, first, it was late Saturday afternoon, and there was no place to exchange money—Slovakia does not use Euros—and second, I needed to find an English speaker to direct me to the hotel.

No one spoke enough English to give me directions, so I searched for a taxi driver who understood my words, Hotel Devin, and would take US dollars.

At the bottom of the cement stairs leading from the station’s front to the street, several cab drivers were pacing, smoking, and looking for fares. Finally, I found one who would take me to the hotel for $5.00. He put my suitcase in the trunk, and I hopped in the cab. Within five short minutes, he deposited me at my hotel. After several modes of transportation and many hours of travel, I finally reached my destination.

Back to Real Time

The phone on the table beside me rang, putting a stop to my reverie. Sally, daughter of a college friend and Country Director for Ukraine and Moldova, said, Welcome to Bratislava. I got your note when I got back from my run. Let’s have dinner tonight. Evelyn, the Rule of Law volunteer-lawyer who has been in Moldova for almost a year, will join us. Meet us in the lobby at seven.

I quickly agreed, relieved I didn’t have to figure out where to go for dinner. Then, at the appointed hour, I was in the lobby. We found a small restaurant near the hotel.

After we ordered our dinner, Evelyn said, Roberta, I am renting a charming house in Chisinau. I’m going home in March so you can probably live there. It comes with a housekeeper who does laundry, cleans, and cooks. She also takes care of the garden.

You will love the garden, she continued. It is walled, with raised beds. It has fruit trees and grapevines, and there are spots where you can plant anything you want. The black soil of Moldova is so rich that sticks practically grow into trees overnight.

That’s wonderful, I said. I am planning to bring one of my cats, Sir Skittle. He and I both love gardens.

ABACEELI Meetings Begin

The next day, the meetings started. The attorney volunteers or liaisons met to exchange ideas and gain information on new projects. Staff members gathered to learn how to manage the lawyer-volunteers, and the higher-ups met to learn how to manage the whole thing.

I spent a lot of time with Ottila, the assistant for the Criminal Law liaison I was replacing in Moldova. Ottila, a short, blonde-haired woman, spoke English, French, Romanian and Russian, all very quickly, it seemed, as she energetically used her hands to emphasize whatever point she was trying to make. She was on her way to Paris to work for the United Nations, so I needed to get as much information as possible in the three days we worked together. She gave me a list of contacts and told me about the projects that were underway. She also had the names and phone numbers of possible assistants.

On Monday afternoon, we sat on the bed in my hotel room and called some people who had applied for Ottila’s position. After talking to four different people with varying English-speaking capabilities, I said, Ottila, they sound fine, but I need to talk with them in person when I get to Moldova. I will keep their numbers and arrange to meet them there. I know that finding an assistant will be my first order of business when I arrive in April. I’ll need someone to help me with the language, contacts, and customs.

We left it at that.

I met all the Moldovan office staff attending the meetings. All were in their twenties, which seemed young to me to be in such responsible positions; however, as my daughter so kindly pointed out, at your age, Mom, everyone seems young to you. She was correct; however, all the staff spoke at least three languages fluently—Russian, Romanian, and English—which impressed me.

Ana, a slight young woman with big brown eyes and a pleasant smile, was the institution-building expert. Her task was to assist non-profit agencies working with the ABA in Moldova to become sustainable or independent of funding from the ABA or any other outside sources. Ana became a friend and a great source of information when I arrived in Moldova.

Vali, a tall, dark-haired man with regular features and stylish air, was the office manager. Evelyn called him a miracle worker. He kept the office together. He prepared all the financial reports, making sure every penny or boni was counted. I know how to keep books, but it is not my favorite thing to do. So, it pleased me that I wouldn’t have to worry about all those pesky decimal points.

On Tuesday evening, a group of us led by Nancy, our Regional Director, were off in two taxis to Le Monde, one of the finest restaurants in Bratislava. I ordered an apple-endive salad with cheese, braised venison over squash, followed by a delicious espresso. The wine was Slovak, a Cabernet, and wonderful. My share of the meal was $26.00.

I learned much during the three days of meetings. Not only would I be without an assistant in Moldova, but I would also be the only American in the office as there was a shortage of attorney/volunteers.

Ottila explained that both the Criminal Law Liaisons and Rule of Law Liaisons provided technical assistance on issues essential to support the law and legal world in the countries where ABA/CEELI has offices.

Rule of Law Liaisons, she said, as we sat in the hotel café one afternoon enjoying an espresso and a delicious chocolate torte, provide funding and administrative support to the legislators, lawyers, law schools, and judges. Criminal Law Liaisons, your position, train, and provide resources to the criminal law attorneys in the host countries."

I liked the training idea. My background in education and years teaching first grade would come in handy.

The Return Home

My trip back to the United States began at Bratislava’s Stefanik airport, which was much more pleasant than the bus station. One of the staff from the ABA office in Bratislava gave me a ride to the airport, meaning I didn’t have to deal with the language, money, or border issues on the bus.

The trip home began in a small airplane from Bratislava to Prague then onto a big jet airliner to New York and, ultimately, Detroit, a torturous route prepared for me by ABA/CEELI’s travel agents.

Chapter One

February

Decisions and Travel Home

Once we were airborne, I pulled out my journal to memorialize the decisions that led me to this point. I wrote:

At 65, I was ready to retire from the stresses of a busy law practice. I still wanted to be active and useful, but I was restless, bored, wanting a change but not sure what that change would be.

Then, 9/11 happened. Like all Americans, I was shocked, angry, and concerned that it might drag my grandchildren into a conflict not of their choosing. The thought entered my head that perhaps I could help shape attitudes toward America by volunteering in a foreign land, living with the people, and being myself.

The idea to volunteer with the ABA came because of a discussion with Jane, Sally’s mother. We had season tickets to the University of Michigan football games. So, every home game Saturday, we sat with 105,000 friends and a few rivals cheering on our Wolverines. One Saturday in late October, shortly after 9/11, Jane, who had recently returned from Ukraine visiting her lawyer-daughter Sally, told me glowingly of their adventures.

Sally’s working with the American Bar Association. She started with them a year ago after she finished her tour with the Peace Corps in Micronesia. She is now country director for Ukraine and Moldova.

That sounds interesting. Do you have her e-mail? I think I’ll send her a note, I later contacted Sally. She wrote that a position as a Criminal Law Liaison in Moldova was available and told me how to apply. I received a response in late November.

Can you come to Washington, DC for an interview? asked a voice calling from ABA headquarters in Washington.

Of course, I answered, my stomach dropping at the thought of what could happen. I was excited to be interviewed and scared that I might get the job and be off to some remote spot away from family and friends.

I arrived in Washington, DC, between Christmas and New Year. This Washington differed from the Washington I had visited the previous summer. Ronald Reagan airport seemed deserted, with few flights in or out. The city was strangely quiet during this usually busy holiday tourist season. The events of 9/11 had quashed some of the country’s Christmas spirit.

Arrival in Prague

Suddenly I realized that the passenger next to me was putting his laptop away, getting ready for the landing in Prague. I stowed my journal, we landed, and I went in search of the gate for my flight to New York.

My layover in Prague was blessedly short: about an hour. I had enough time to grab a cheese sandwich and a latte, take care of other necessities, make it safely through security, and then I was on a much larger plane for the long flight to New York.

I settled in, opened my journal, and continued my notes:

In Washington, I interviewed with five people in the space of three and one-half hours. I liked them. They wanted to make some changes in the world. I decided I would accept the position of Criminal Law Liaison if they offered it.

The Department of Justice funded the position. ABA/CEELI would use the funds to pay for my flights, my housing while there, health insurance should I need to be evacuated and provide a monthly stipend to cover other costs such as food and transportation. Because Moldova is very poor, the amount offered was more than adequate.

The offer of a position in Moldova came in mid-January. I agreed to go to the meeting in Bratislava and be in Chisinau, Moldova, in mid-April. I jumped at the chance, ready to have a new adventure and, in the process, perhaps change a tiny bit of the world’s view of America and Americans.

I closed my journal, tried to find a comfortable position, and finally fell asleep, waking up as the flight attendants started serving breakfast.

New York

Soon we were landing in New York. I followed the herd of folks anxious to reenter their homeland.

Welcome to the United States, said the officer, stamping my passport. I smiled my thanks, moved on to collect my small suitcase, passed through customs, and hurried to find my flight to Detroit.

Once again, stuffed into a tiny seat, I pulled out a sheet of paper and made a list of all I needed to do to be in Moldova by mid-April.

First: Close down my law practice.

Second: Sell the house. I made a note to call Jane, who was a real estate agent.

Third: Find a storage facility close to my daughter.

Finally: Make arrangements for my animals: Grizabella and Sir Skittle, my cats and Promise, my Australian Shepherd.

For reasons unclear to me, I yearned for change. I wanted to return from my adventure to a new way of life, which I was certain would not include the active practice of law.

When the plane landed in Detroit, I found a taxi to take me to my home in Ann Arbor. Finally, I was ready to begin my new adventure.

Chapter Two

March/April

Preparing for travel

While I managed all the details of my life, I was selecting things that would go with me to Moldova. I read that the weather was much like Michigan’s, so I needed four seasons of clothes. I also needed some towels and sheets that had to be flat, not fitted, because I couldn’t be sure of the size of the bed. I scanned the list of suggested necessities ABA/CEELI posted for those traveling abroad.

Shots were necessary. I went to the local Traveler’s Health Clinic and got all the recommended shots. Next, I went to my doctor, who declared that