The piece of bread that transformed two lives - an unsung Maltese hero

Small deeds can lead to big results. Victor Mizzi ran a scout group in Malta in the 1950s. He went on to run his own very successful business, but even when he was helping out with the scouts he showed signs of enterprise and determination. He once contacted Lord Mountbatten, then Admiral of the British Fleet, and arranged for a group of 300 scouts from Malta to travel to the UK by warship. No mean feat to achieve!

He went to school at Jesuit Saint Aloysius College in Birkirkara.  He later started his own charter company Belleair holidays in 1974 and was highly successful. In fact, he was so successful that he made enough money to retire before the age of 50. Something I have heard so many dream of doing but never quite manage.

When the Chernobyl disaster happened Victor became aware of the shortages of supplies afflicting hospitals and orphanages in Belarus. 70% of the radiation fallout landed in Belarus and it impacted 2.5 million people with health consequences in an area that was already very depressed economically and suffering from crippling poverty. The result of the radiation was a huge increase in thyroid cancers and many children were born with malformed limbs or even multiple congenital deformities.  It is thought that 250,000 children were exposed to varying degrees of radiation in Belarus. 

Showing his usual terrier type tenacity Victor Mizzi continued to offer medicine and supplies to as many hospitals and orphanages in Belarus as he could. It was while he was visiting one of the orphanages that an incident happened which changed the course of his life. While in the orphanage a small three-year-old boy called Igor Pavlovetts, who had been born badly deformed, toddled over and offered the Maltese businessman a piece of bread. 

It was an unexpected act of kindness that led to a transformation. Victor was so touched by the small child that he arranged for him to be flown to the UK to receive medical treatment. While Igor was in the UK, Victor arranged for him to stay in a foster home. Following extensive physiotherapy and support, Igor grew in confidence and ability. 

Mind you, some of the artificial limbs and aids used for the disabled were pretty crude in those days and nothing like the state-of-the-art technology available today.  An old film of Igor's life shows his devastation when his "new legs" turned out to be just huge black crude boots with six-inch soles on them. The small child had obviously been expecting more natural-looking and more comfortable legs. But Igor's natural optimism and resilience shine through as he smiles at everyone around him despite his disappointment. Igor went on to have an independent life in the UK and has since married and had three children of his own.

Such an injection of generosity from Victor Mizzi could have ended with this one life being transformed. However, Victor was only getting started. Realising that so many children in Belarus were suffering ill-health as a result of the radiation, he started a scheme to allow Belarus children to travel abroad for 3 to 4 weeks so that their systems could recover in healthier climes. In time he would arrange for 56,000 children to have holidays outside Belarus and their immune systems benefited enormously from these breaks.  Such were his powers of persuasion that he even convinced British Airways, Belavia and Ukraine International Airlines to give all the children involved free travel to these destinations.  The charity he started so many years ago still runs today and has touched so many young lives.

So often in life, we miss these tiny but significant acts of kindness. Surrounded by the corruption and competition we might not even see the outstretched hand of a small child offering us bread. Even if we noticed it and felt a wave of sympathy for this tiny disabled child how many of us would have just moved on.  It took just one man, Victor Mizzi to see the boy, feel compassion and then arise to act, to make all the difference. That one act triggered an avalanche of endeavours that continue to influence children’s health in Belarus to this day.

 

Victor and Igor in the early years

Victor Mizzi passed away aged 84 in the UK in March 2019 and in the week before his death was visited by a journalist who recalled Victor saying to them “Always help others, when you have a chance.”

"Be generous in prosperity, and thankful in adversity."

Baha’u’llah

Sticks and Stones - Sister Bernadette learning to float

Sister Bernadette held her coffee cup between her cold hands and heard the young woman at the table beside her scolding her six or seven-year-old son. 

“Eat it, eat it! If you don't! I'm warning you! Eat it, eat!”

The child was playing with the free toy inside McDonald's child’s meal pack mesmerised by the colours and shapes of the toy still wrapped in plastic. She berates across the table.

“Next time you ask for anything you’ll get nothing. I'm warning you!”

He says nothing but fidgets in his chair. His mother's voice rises in anger.

“I told you not to order the chicken, you never eat chicken, but that's what you wanted. Well, I'm sick of you wasting things. I work hard for my money and you don't care, you just don't care. Eat! Eat!”

It seems as if the Saturday morning treat is going down hill rapidly. The boy idly picks up a chip and chews it.  This seems to enrage the mother, who shouts,

“Don't just eat the chips, you have to eat the chicken. It's a complete waste to have the whole meal and not eat the chicken. You've done this before. I'm not having it, eat eat!”

Sister Bernadette lowers her head and prays. For what, she's not sure, but a more peaceful environment for the mother and son would do. The boy has not spoken since they arrived at the table in the cafe. His excitement in opening the box had been tangible as he searched for the toy inside. But now Bernadette notices a nervous twitch around one of his eyes. Her middle-aged cousin Henry had the same twitch. It was no wonder, Henry’s life had been difficult, full of trauma. Watching the young boy’s nervous mannerism made her want to weep.  Despite her prayers there is tension building and sister Bernadette feels her futility in the face of it. Unable to stop the storm reaching a crescendo.  

“Okay, that’s it! If you're not eating the chicken, you're not having chips!” 

She picked up the McDonald's children's box and threw it in the bin. 

“I warned you, I told you before, didn’t I? Why can't you listen. Why do you ruin everything. Even this is spoiled! Are you happy now?”

She is tidying away the trays slamming them down while clearing their table. The boy is holding tight to this free toy held below the table, out of sight, as the mother grabs his other arm and hauls him to his feet.

“Come on, that's all finished let's go!”

Her anger has a justified, righteous ring to it. As if she is enjoying being angry and making a clear point to the silent twitching child. As they pass Bernadette’s table, she wants to reach out a hand and ask the mother. 

“Who are you really angry at?” In gentle curious tones. But that would be unforgivable. 

The mother and son have reached the front glass doors are exiting when the mother spots the toy still wrapped in its plastic wrapping unopened in his hand. She snatches it from him and throws it in the bin at the front door.  He howls his distress and tries to reach in the bin to retrieve the toy. She pulls him away from the bin and suddenly both are gone. This righteous angry young mother and her thin tiny nervous screaming son.

Bernadette's coffee has become tasteless and cold. The cafe feels contaminated by the toxic argument. When a novice Bernadette had hated the arguments in the convent. They had made her stomach churn and her constant indigestion that meant she seem to live anti-indigestion tablets for months. In those early frightening months it had been a red haired novice with a furious temper who seem to be at the root of all disputes. She seemed ready to explode over the slightest word, perceived slight, inconvenience, shortage of biscuits or even an accidental nudge on the way to the chapel. Bernadette remember going through a long mass with the red haired girl glaring angrily across the cold chapel. The unpleasantness lasted two days and nights Bernadette had practically overdosed on anti-acid tablets during the long weekend. Such was her dosage the elderly nun on nursing duty called her in to question her.

“Do you have problems with the food here?”

She had asked when looking through the dispensing records. She was in her 60s and was called Gerty. The face was wreathed in smile lines and she spoke with a heavy Yorkshire accent. Bernadette had admitted.

“I've always had a sensitive stomach, if I get upset about anything my stomach seems to suffer.”

Gerty smiled,

“We will have to find a solution to that, won’t we?

Bernadette had lifted her face at that benevolent tone and asked somewhat tearfully, 

“But how sister?”

“Well, I suggest we start with prayer, shall we?”

Gerty rose and beckoned Bernadette to follow her. They went down a long corridor to the empty chapel. In an alcove the two kneeled in silence. At first, Bernadette felt disappointed. She had begun to hope Gerty had sensed the reason for her distress, the red haired girl’s toxic presence. Or had a treatment apart from the constant diet of anti-acids that she consumed all her life. But no, here they knelt in the darkened chapel, back where Bernadette had started the morning with her adversary’s toxic glare.

But as she peeped at Gerty kneeling beside her, upright, habit folded neatly, hands covered, with her shoulders relaxed, she was shocked at the intense expression on the elderly nun’s face as she prayed. She was so obviously asking for divine help that Bernadette shut her own eyes and copied. It seemed the very least she could do, given all this effort on Gerty’s part. After a long silence Bernadette had another sidelong look at the elderly nun beside her. The expression had changed.  It was now a listening face. As if somewhere in the chapel a voice had begun to speak and Gerty was taking in everything said.

Bernadette closed her eyes and tried to listen too. Not to ask, pray or demand but wait for the answer to come. The quietness stretched out and a stillness settled within her. She felt the hardwood under her knees, the smell of the candles in the corner, she fancied she could see their flickers through her closed eyelids. Then, the silence of the empty chapel seem to embrace her. With her hands wrapped in her habit the coldness of the chapel did not make her restless for the sunny cloisters. Instead a thought bubbled up.  

“A servant is drawn unto Me in prayer until I answer him; and when I have answered him, I become the ear wherewith he heareth….”. 

Bernadette breathed slow and deep, feeling her heart rate change. A memory of the stream near their home came to her. She could see the boulders, the grass verge, hear the bubbling sound of water swirl round the stones. The river racing down the slopes of the mountain, clear, cool and fresh. As a child she love to hold her head above its surface and observe the pebbles below the water. They were shiny and coloured and so beautiful. Sometimes she would reach down and stir at the bottom of the stream so that stones and mud mixed and the water would become brown and mysterious. Then she would lie and watch as gradually the constant trickling stream would clear away the debris until again crystal clear pebbles appeared magnified in all their beauty. Returned to an ethereal beauty that could not be destroyed by intent nor time. In the chapel Bernadette breathed in deeply and opened her eyes. This time it was sister Gerty who was watching her and smiling.

“You look much better! “She queried, “But are you?”

Bernadette felt as if a weight had been lifted from her heart. But not at all sure how.

“Thank you, sister, I do!”

As they left the small chapel Bernadette felt as if she'd learnt a lesson of value and for the first time found herself looking forward to all the other valuable lessons ahead. When she’d finished the novice training, she was given a new name, sister Bernadette. At first, she been in a state of disbelief at being given this of all names! She had admired the Saint of course. But it had to be a horrible coincidence that it was also the name of that angry red haired novice who had tormented her throughout her training. Then, she learnt to let that go too and could laugh at the coincidences that come along in life. Let it all go.  Her acidic stomach, hurt feelings, discomfort, breath deep and let it go. Sometimes you had to laugh at the journey we are all on and be patient until the water clears and translucency returns, which it will!