They get hungry like other kids, and they get sick. They get lonely, and sometimes they're afraid. In the winter, when they get cold they slip underground into the tunnels that catacomb the city with hot water pipes. And they survive.

They play around like other kids when they have time, when they aren't scavenging for food or begging for money. They hug their puppies--streetsmart like the kids themselves--for warmth and contact. When they have reason to, they smile and sometimes even hope.

Ten years ago, pictures of Bucharest's street kids flashed out on television screens around the world. The cruel regime of Nicolae Ceausescu finally collapsed in violence in December 1989, but in the freedom that followed fragile social structures collapsed too. Poverty and alcoholism destroyed many families, and thousands of kids were abandoned to find their future. Thousands more made their own escape--uncertain life on the street was better than the certain misery they came from.

Bucharest's street kids live amid drugs, theft, and poverty in a city that progresses towards reclaiming its former dignity. To survive, they take shelter in a sewer pipe (above); or they find a warm place to sleep on a heating tunnel grate or with their pets on a sunny step (below). Kids commonly sniff solvent from a plastic bag to dull their everyday pain (below right).

In 1991, the Catholic charitable agency Caritas asked the Jesuits in Austria if there was anyone who could work with these street children. Fr. Georg Sporschill, SJ, was already working with the homeless in Austria, and the Jesuits offered his services for a six-month term. He is still on the job.

Photographer Nora Schoeller from Vienna describes her arrival in Bucharest: "My first impression of the train station -- it's never left me -- was of kids storming over and throwing themselves in Father Georg's arms, shouting for him, laughing, kidding around, and running off to spread the news, 'Parintele Georghes is here'! Only after the first uproar of greetings had died down and countless kids jammed around us could I really take in this flock of dirty, raggedy shapes covered with scratches and sores." Fr. Georg Sporschill always brings smiles to the kids who recognize his love.

With sleeping bags and a loaded minivan, Fr. Sporschill and three colleagues traveled to Bucharest in October 1991. They went to work in the train station and on the streets and began renovating St. John's House for children. Within two months they bought a house on Concordia Plaza for office and living space for themselves and guests; from here, the whole project took on the name Concordia. Within a year they acquired and renovated four abandoned houses to provide a home for 70 street kids. All the while they worked on the streets to keep up contact with the thousands of kids living there. And they gained the kids' trust and confidence and showed them somebody cared. A banana-vendor's wares are out of reach for hungry kids, who look down to his subway- station fruit stand.

In the summer of 1992, Concordia obtained a former communist collective farm and transformed it into the Children's Farm. Besides housing, they constructed a chapel and places where the kids could learn trades like baking and farming. The kids attend school in the village nearby.

For all he has been through on the streets, Ricardo is still able share a laugh with Fr. Sporschill, who has helped him find a home; Ricardo was later adopted by a family in Greece.	The kids share their hunger, and they share good fortune when it comes, like the simple gift of a cookie.
	The Children's Farm has the feel of a small children's village. It's central street is the road to a different future than the crime- and drug-wracked streets that the children left behind in Bucharest: it lets kids dream of a future with hope.

Helping is contagious. Ruth Zenkert (left) has helped Fr. Sporschill's social work for 15 years. Here she listens to Ivan and Moise pleading for her to take little Razvan to the Children's Farm. The two young men lived on the streets and helped Fr. Sporschill keep order when needy kids overwhelmed him there. When they found 4-year-old Razvan on the street, they feared for his life. Later Ivan and Moise too moved into a Concordia home.

This farm was like a paradise for many of the street kids, and every morning the kids in the station begged the Concordia workers to take them there.

As the farm has developed into a whole children's village for 240 kids, Concordia has grown into an organization with 80 workers to stay ahead of the relentless demands. In spite of a lot of work by Concordia and other agencies, at least 5,000 kids still live on Bucharest's streets. So Concordia's response keeps growing. In 1998, with the Orthodox Church it opened a drop-in center near the train station to provide food, showers, medical treatment, and therapy. It also keeps up with the graduates of its programs, helping them make the transition to life as adults. And in Vienna, Concordia maintains a home to help Romanians adjust to life in the West.

Georg Sporschill's work flows from his deep sense of biblical justice and his faith in the kids he finds on the streets. They are aware of their worth, he says, and help others to see that worth. And kids are not afraid to show their needs.

The kids love to share the good fortune they have received; a young circus clown practices up for his part in a thank-you performance: these kids let others smile.

Fr. Sporschill insists that Romania's problems are not unique. The country did have to fight to rid itself of Nicolae Ceausescu while other countries let the old regimes go without much violence. And the television pictures of Bucharest's street kids added to the impression that Romania was worse off. But all the former communist countries have had to work hard to leave their past behind. And like the others Romania has made progress, and its people are determined that the future will be different.

A powerful factor in this future will be the kids that Fr. Sporschill and the whole Concordia team have rescued and continue to rescue from the streets. Like other kids, they want to build their country. They want to build their careers and their families. They want to build their futures. And like kids everywhere, they want to dream.

Fr. Edward W. Schmidt, SJ, is Company magazine's business manager.