Real People.
Real Change.
Every story here is a real person in a real settlement in Slovakia. Not statistics. Not composites. People whose lives changed because the Church showed up and stayed.
That’s why we were angry with him for not doing anything and he left us.
— Laco, about his father
Laco and his brother had been attending the mission’s lessons when their father abandoned the family. They were angry. The priest listened, then told them: pray for him. He’s still your father. Don’t hold the anger. Months later, Robert went with his mother to ask his father to come back. That is what the mission had taught him to do. His father came back. He stopped drinking. He found work. Today he sits in the front row at every school skit and theater performance his sons are in. The whole family, together.
How a designer abandoned his career,
moved into a Roma settlement,
and stayed.
Martin was nineteen, working internationally, leading a design team at one of the fastest-growing Czech startups. Then a detour through Klenovec changed the direction of his life. He didn't send help from a distance. He moved in.
More Voices From
Klenovec
“When we were quarantined with our eight children and had nothing to eat, they came with groceries and games. We couldn't reach anyone else. Only them.”
— Svetlana Cibuľová, Klenovec
In the early weeks of COVID, nobody knew what the virus would do. People were afraid of death itself. Roma settlements were abandoned — too risky, too crowded, too unknown. Martin and Misha went anyway. Belief in the resurrection is not a metaphor for them. It is what gave them the courage to walk toward what everyone else was walking away from.
“I used to come here when I needed men for a day's work. After a few years I came again — and I couldn't find anyone. They were all already hired.”
— Local carpenter, Klenovec region
When the mission arrived, around 30% of men in the settlement had any work. Four years later, a local carpenter who regularly hired from the settlement came looking — and left empty-handed. Not because men refused. Because there was nobody left to hire. They were all at work.
“The others who weren't in the course didn't pass the test. We did.”
— Adrian, Klenovec
Dominik came from a special school — the kind teachers write off. Through the mission's multimedia workshop, he sat the government exam for 9th grade completion. Something his teachers once called impossible. His brother Adrian prints t-shirts, including for those same teachers. One now got a job offer because he could pass skills test others couldn't.
“I don't know, but since I am coming here, I stopped lying. I started helping home. I started behaving well. I started learning better.”
— Miroslava, Klenovec
She cannot explain it theologically. She just knows something changed. Her parents confirm it — of all the children who attend, she is the most helpful. Grace is often like that: you don't understand it. You just live differently.
“I thought having children would change me. It didn't. Coming to the Eucharist every week — that did.”
— Roma man, Gemer region
He is Roma, but not from a settlement — a regular house, a regular neighbourhood. Addiction had followed him for years. He thought becoming a father would be the turning point. It wasn't. When he began attending the parish and receiving Communion weekly, something shifted. He married his partner — to make it right before God. The addiction lost its hold. He still comes.
There is a girl we visit three times a year.
Her mother is in prison. Her grandmother — the one person who held things together — died recently. She is now living with her aunt. We cannot show her face. We will not share her name. But we will keep coming back.
Three visits a year is not much. But for her, it may be the only consistent thing in her life right now. Someone who shows up. Not because she asked. Not because it's convenient. Because she matters.
This is why we don't measure success in numbers. Some of the most important work we do will never appear in a report.
Every story here started with someone choosing to stay.
Martin and Misha moved to Klenovec permanently. Not as visitors, not as NGO workers on a contract. They bought a house, raised children, and built a parish — because the Roma communities they serve have been let down by every initiative that eventually packed up and left.
In 2025, donors contributed roughly €3,000. Actual mission costs were €16,900. The gap is covered from Martin's personal income. Every euro you give goes directly to sustaining what you’ve just read.
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