Alice Shiner and Delanjathan Devakumar went to often forgotten Belarus to see what is being done to help the children born in the fallout of the Chernobyl disaster

In the summer of 2001, a group of eight British medical students joined a party of volunteers to help run a summer camp in Belarus. The camp was for children with mental and physical disabilities. It was organised by a charity that has been working with these disadvantaged children—the Chernobyl Children's Project.

Before we became involved with the charity, few of us had heard of Belarus. It is a country with 10 million inhabitants and is a little smaller than Britain. It lies in relative obscurity in the eastern European belt of the former Soviet states, all of which gained independence at the end of the cold war in 1991.

You need to go back centuries in order to recall a time when Belarus could be regarded as a prosperous state. Since then, invasion by the Poles, two world wars, and the work of Soviet planners have left it a barren and featureless land.

The children's charity has had to struggle in the face of the political and social climate of Belarus. The healthcare system is in a shambles: after the collapse of communism, healthcare expenditure decreased dramatically and can no longer fund the healthcare infrastructure instituted during Soviet rule. Although there are a large number of healthcare staff, there are simply not enough resources to deal with the burden created by increasing social and ecological problems. It seems hard to be positive about the future in Belarus.

The Chernobyl disaster of 1986 brought a host of new problems to this already troubled land. While Chernobyl is in the Ukraine, over 70% of the fallout from the accident fell onto Belarus, leaving only 1% of its land uncontaminated. A mere 10% of children born in Belarus today will live life untouched by health problems related to radiation exposure. These illnesses include congenital mutations and cancers, some so rare that they are hard to treat with even the most sophisticated medicine. There have also been increased numbers of children born with mental and physical disability. Many of these children have been rejected by their families and have spent their lives in children's homes.

Our train crossed the Poland-Belarus border at midnight after a gruelling twenty hour journey. Intimidating border guards filed into the carriage and eventually admitted us into the country after a highly bureaucratic procedure that was reminiscent of the former Soviet era. We were on our way to the Neman Sanatorium, located just outside the city of Grodno in the north west of Belarus. The countryside around Grodno is exceptional; it avoided the Chernobyl fallout that contaminated most of the country. The “cleanliness” of the area, and the remarkable kindness of the director, has meant that Neman has been chosen as the location for the children's summer camps for the last five years.

Belarussians are entitled to a three week holiday each year at one of the purpose built sanatoria around the country. This entitlement does not, however, extend to marginalised groups—for example, the physically and mentally disabled. Through the work of the charity the Belarussian government has been persuaded to partly subsidise the holiday, with the charity paying the remaining costs.

Around 150 children with disabilities ranging from cerebral palsy to rare genetic syndromes came to Neman. Some are fortunate enough to live at homes in which they were encouraged to develop skills in reading, writing, music, and other areas. Most were from a home for severely disabled children at which there are few opportunities to learn any such skills. This was especially true for the most physically disabled children, for whom almost no lessons are provided. For this reason, part of our role involved paying special attention to these children, encouraging them to participate in activities and demonstrate their capabilities to their carers. At the home there can be as many as 17 children to one carer. Importantly, our involvement gave the carers a break (this being their only holiday of the year).

Belarussian society generally keeps disabled people out of sight. This was apparent in the attitude of other people at the sanatorium: many stared at the children and were clearly unsure how to treat them. An activity, such as the holiday, not only plays a valuable role in bringing new opportunities and happiness to these children, but also goes someway towards breaking down the social stigmas that hinder development.

During our time in Belarus we encountered many difficulties, including communication problems with the children's carers, tiresome and ubiquitous bureaucracy, and the barely edible meals of the sanatorium kitchens—although the children seemed to enjoy them, perhaps a testimony to the quality of food they were used to. Despite the difficulties, however, our time in Belarus was very rewarding. The ease with which it was possible to bring smiles to the children's faces made us realise that our efforts were worthwhile.

Charities like the Chernobyl Children's Project will continue their work, but ultimately an overhaul of the economic and political system of Belarus is needed, if the population is to enjoy the good health of its eastern European counterparts. Although provisions for disabled people are gradually improving there is still some way to go.

If you would like to get involved with the work of the Chernobyl Children's Problem, please contact Linda Walker, Kinder House, Fitzalan Street, Glossop, Derbyshire SK13 7DL or email linda@ccprojectuk.fsnet.co.uk