Europe Diary - Communist Romania

The remaining evidence of a communist nation.  Apartments built by Ceaușescu during the 80's when he forced peasants out of their farms and into government created housing.  In the capitol city, he demolished historic housing units, making people sign over their homes to be leveled.  Apartment units were constructed in their place.   Every family had a government provided place to live back then.  If you had one child you were given an extra bedroom, two children of different sexes and you were given another, the bigger the family the bigger the apartment.  Birth control and abortion was outlawed, and families were encouraged to grow the nation as a duty.  However the food rationing and dire conditions of living discouraged many woman from going full term with their pregnancies and many had illegal underground abortions.  My great aunt had two children and eight abortions.  There is a 2007 Romanian film about this if you are interested called 4 Months, 3 weeks, and 2 days that won a Cannes Film Festival award.

Communism began turning sour in Romania in the 1980s, after the government took out huge IMF loan to payback debt.  Ceaușescu had attempted to make Romania an industrial powerhouse and built huge factories with capacity production higher than local and international demand.  After an oil deal with with Iran fell through following the 1979 Iranian Revolution, Romania needed a loan to pay off its international debt.  Romanians are hard workers, with a great deal of pride, and the government set a plan to pay back the loan as quickly as possible.  Unlike some of the EU countries now-a-days that are deferring on their debt in the face of economic crisis, the Romanian government stuck austerity measures unimaginable by European standards today.   This led to an era of blanketed poverty.  Babies died in neonatal units during power outages, people spent the night in in grocery lines to receive their food rations, and the government rewrote the food pyramid to reduce caloric intake and make the populace vegetarian.  You needed written permission to slaughter a pig.  It was totally crazy, but Romania paid off the debt on track.

My family (mom, uncle, grandfather and grandmother) left in 1969, well before the crisis began, but I guess my grandfather, Tata, recognized the danger ahead.  He was born in 1915 in the USA when his parents had spent many years working at a tobacco factory rolling cigarettes.  They had 5 pregnancies during that time, but only 2 of the children survived, the other died of small pox very young (like under 6 years old).  Tata tried using his dual US/Romanian citizenship to get out of the county.  For six years he lobbied and was put in jail, tracked by the special police, and basically on a shit list at a time when communism was actually pretty popular.  

In 1968 Romania stuck out from other countries in the Eastern Bloc due to Ceaușescu's defiant reaction to the Soviet Warsaw Pack invasion of Czechoslovakia.   Ceaușescu put Romania under the radar as beacon of rationality peaking from behind the iron curtain.  His actions drew the attention of America, and in August of 1969, President Nixon made a trip to visit the country and initiate trade between the USA and Romania, identifying Romania as a Most Favored Nation (MFN).  

In a July1969 State Department memo from the Chairman of National Security to Nixon, advising on improving relations with Romania, there is mention of my family, "Another important US concern, although not of an economic nature, is to help dual national and other in Romania eligible for emigration to the United States to leave Romania.  Despite Romanian pledges, progress has been slow.  Only some 100 of approximately 2,500 individual cases have been favorably resolved.  You might wish to couple an offer of MFN with the recommendation that Romania act to release these individuals, indicating that such action would increase Congressional receptivity."

My mom said that Romania ended up releasing over a 1000 families following Nixon's visit.  They left with no documents, no money, no idea how to speak a word of English.  They were not allowed to tell anyone, even relatives, they were leaving.  So these families basically just disappeared one day.  They were given notice in August, and in October they got on the plane, knowing they would possibly and probably never see anyone from their life there ever again. Tata was 55 at the time.  Can you imagine starting a whole new life at that age?   He had no intention of becoming successful or even learning English, he just wanted his kids to have a chance at a better future than what he believed Romania could offer.  A year later his mom, my great grandmother who had worked in the US cigarette factory died in Romania,  she had desperately wanted to visit, but wasn't allowed to leave.

 On the plane my grandmother sat next to the wife of the then VP of BMW, she had traveled to Romania to try to (unsuccessfully) buy her family out of the country.  She gave my grandmother $50, and that's what they started with.  That and some clothes are all they had when they landed on US soil.

A woman from the Trenton Catholic Church met them at the airport in New Jersey.  She helped them rent an apartment and find a job working at a factory.  I'm pretty sure that Tata was one of those, "I used to walk a mile in the snow with holes in my shoes." kind of guys.  

My mom was 17 when they came to the US and school in the states was so different than in Communist Romania.  There kids were perfectly behaved, obedient, submissive, and expected to maintain an educational standard much higher than in the US.  Teachers beat on desks with sticks to scare students into giving answers, and parents bribed teachers with chickens, money, and favors.  Her mom was a teacher and so some of the other teachers in her school knew they were leaving to the US.

A resentful teacher told her, "You think dogs walk around with pretzels for tails and money grows on trees there?"  

"No, I don't know what its like, I'm just going because my parents are going."  She responded.

Her favorite math teacher gave his blessing, "I have family in Germany and I would leave too if I could.  You are going to do great things there."

Math was her favorite subject, and when she met with the principle at her new school in Trenton she begged to take a math class.  Although she didn't know English, a Romanian priest from the local church came with her and translated.  The principle said that girls take Home Ec.  

"What's Home Ec?" she was confused.  

"It's cooking."  He stated definitively.

"I am good at math, can I take a math class?" she insisted.

He agreed to let her try Algebra and on the first day she started the class was having a test.  The teacher told her that she didn't need to take it since she hadn't studied the material.  But she asked to take it.  In 7 minutes she was the first one to finish the 40 questions and handed it in 100% correct.  It was easy x + 1 = 5 kind of stuff and she could have done it with her eyes closed.  The teacher said, "You could teach this class."

"No, I don't need to take this class." she replied.  

He then persuaded the principle to move her into Trig, and eventually into Calculus.  There were 2 other girls and 4 boys in that calculus class, even though -according to the principle- "Girls don't take math, they take Home Ec."

The dictatorship of Ceaușescu's communist leadership ended on Christmas 1989.  The Berlin wall fell in November, and while leaders from other countries in the Eastern Bloc were bowing out of power in the face of public disapproval, Ceaușescu insisted on keeping rule over his "children."  

A pastor from the western city of Timișoara had been criticizing the government during themes in his sermons. On Dec 21st the government ordered a bishop from the church to remove and evict him on grounds of inciting ethnic hatred.  Parishioners and students from the local university gathered around his house to protect him from eviction.   This eventually escalated to riots in the city, people taking over the National Communist Party headquarters, throwing communist documents out the windows and trying to burn it down.  The city police and special police couldn't stop the rioting.  Eventually the military moved in and turned the city into a war zone.  Two days of dispute in Timișoara killing 80 - mostly students.  

The government controlled media censored the event.  Word of the riots traveled by mouth across the country side, and although only 80 people had been killed, the rumors told of thousands.  A couple cold days later Ceaușescu finally addressed the rumors by radio, stating they were "interference of foreign forces in Romania's internal affairs" and an "external aggression on Romania's sovereignty."

The banner of decent became the Romanian flag with the socialist emblem cut out of the center.  We still see the flag flying in front of the town hall in my mom's home city of Arad.  Arad is only a half hour away from Timișoara, and became another hot spot for fighting in the days of the revolution.  My cousin was in 4th grade at the time and says it was a really scary couple days where they hid in their house, hearing the police firing on the people in the streets.  

Some bullet holes remain on the beautiful edifice of the town hall building.

 Twenty-four years later fresh flowers still adorn the memorial for the protesters killed during the revolution.  The pictures of each man surrounding the obelisk.

A grave site at the city cemetery dedicated to those men killed during protests.  When we walked by, and I asked what the special grave was, my great aunt only said, "The Heroes."  

 In just four days following the riots at Timișoara, Ceaușescu and his wife were killed by firing squad.  The police eventually turned to the side of the people, and started waving the flag with the hole in the center.  Ceaușescu's cabinet staged a cue.  First they advised him to take a helicopter ride out of the capitol where the pilot tricked him into landing, bouncing the copter up and down and saying it was coming under anti-aircraft fire.  After landing, Ceaușescu and his wife hijacked a car.   The petrified driver mislead them into stopping to hide at the building where he worked.  There the driver contacted the police, who took Ceaușescu and his wife in armored vehicles to a spot where they had a quick two hour trial.  He was charged with genocide, subversion, destruction of public property, undermining the national economy, and trying to flee the country.  The judge was wearing a sweater and a pair of jeans, and even the lawyers appointed for Ceaușescu's defense argued for the death penalty without appeal.

The firing squad executed him and his flailing wife on the spot.  They say for every bullet Ceaușescu took, his wife took 10.  She was seen as the most vicious, as unsympathetic, and as personally responsible for advocating the policies that induced suffering of the people. 

Twenty four years later the country is aging.  Colorful, intricately decorated buildings crumble.  The evidence of a once - like a long time ago - booming city fades and withers.  The above buildings haven't been retouched in 80 years.

Historic, once luxurious apartments with stained glasses, wall paper and high ceilings; now the quiet community of mostly elderly owners.

We visited the old home of my mom's cousin.  She now lives in the US too and has for over 30 years.  My mom remembers them playing in this courtyard with the other neighborhood kids for hours each day.  Now dark, quiet, and falling apart.  

We saw a bunch of hopeful signs, like nice new restaurants, buildings just now starting to get renovated, and well dressed and happy young people.  The Christmas market smells of pastry and buttered corn, while kids ride around the square on scooters and tricycles.  Christmas was outlawed during communism.  

But what I unfortunately heard from people is that most want to leave, the new government is corrupt, you need connections to make any good money, and most of the country is still very poor.  And now without the controls around emigration and censorship, young people travel and easily know the amenities and first world opportunities elsewhere.  Many of them are leaving Romania.

But I found it so charming, I loved the simplicity of the towns in the countryside, the kindness and fun energy of the people, the delicious home cooked food, and so much more.  I really loved visiting Romania and told everyone.  

In high school a friend showed me a copy of the Communist Manifesto.  My mom was home and saw.  She immediately flipped out on him, "Get that book out of my house!  Out of my house!" And she chased him until he left it in his car.

At 17 my mom didn't know exactly why they were leaving Romania, and wouldn't have chosen to do so on her own.  Knowing what she knows now, she says with a steady gaze and almost a tear shimmering from her eyes, "I would kiss the ground Richard Nixon walks on."

She can give some examples of ways her life in Romania was superior to the US, especially gender equality at the time, woman held the same jobs as men all the way up the ladder.  But what bothers her most is that people weren't allowed to leave, weren't allowed to travel, visit family, or move somewhere else if they wanted.  Rules were decided by someone else, and seemed irrational, but if you broke them you could be jailed or killed.  

If you live in the US look back in your own history and I'm sure you'll find a story like this somewhere.  Anyone who lives in the country came from some kind of struggle.  If you have a lineage of immigrants, then they made a scary choice to leave what they knew behind with the hope of a better future for their children.

A Mellow Phase

This time of year always gets a little crazy.  I either find lots more time to write, or none at all.  The last couple weeks I've made no time to write.  And really, that's uplifting.  Because writing's a type of therapy for me and so if I'm not doing it, it's because I don't need the therapy.  

I've stepped into a mellow phase in life. Not that there aren't 100 things to do.  I still have a to-do list a page long, written on the back of an envelope, next to the computer.  Every day I cross a couple things off and add 5 more.  

I still get out and have fun, see the kids acting incredibly cute and want to burn the moments into eternity.  But, it seems less important now that they're older.  Maybe that's dangerously deceiving  and I should be writing these things down.  Like the time when Nala discovered her elbow, or when I heard the greatest sound ever, or when I learned how dumb I am, or when the kids had their first tiff.  Are the moments of today any less important?  Nala stuck a role of Scotch tape to the tip of my nose and it hung there.  Then she balanced two pens and a scissors inside the roll.  I volunteered at Kaio's art class and he looked over his shoulder brightly beaming at me the whole time, then made this self portrait:

A couple days ago I walked into the bathroom and it looked like this:

You see Kaio and Mari were out of town for a week.  They flew down to Brazil for a good friend's wedding.  That whole week the house felt so quiet.  Nala's such an easy kid, she'll entertain herself for hours without asking for anything.  By the end of the week the house was clean, so clean and organized.  Just us girls we got through the piles of clothes to be put away and kept the toys off the floor and the rooms tidy.  

Then the boys come home and within an hour toys are dumped all over the floor, suitcases sprawled and clothing piled.  I still haven't gotten it all picked up.  In no time Kaio was leaping down the stairs, four stairs at a time.  The yang energy back in full force.

The quiet lunch time that Nala and I usually share, ripped into by a hippidy hoppidy kiddo full of bounce and ideas.  He wanted to bob for apples.  This is the kind of request that would make me annoyed.  But because I hadn't seen him in a week, it sounded fun and refreshing.  I'll try to remember that on a daily basis.  Remember that although these off the wall schemes he comes up with seem like a nuisance, they are the thumping of the heartbeat that keeps our family thriving with life. 

Then he dressed up in a spiderman suit and climbed a tree.  

Halloween 2012

Nala dressed as Rainbow Dash, her favorite My Little Pony.  She was always on the move, jolting from one spot to another.  

My costume sucked but whatever.  I'm always looking for an excuse to dress up.  The day I stop dressing up on Halloween will be the day my inner child turns to ice.  I hope that day never comes.

There was a sign saying "No Adults Can Bounce" so I had to just sit there and watch them.  It sure looked like fun :(.

When you're a teenager you feel like you own the world, like you can bend light with your mind and change a city from the ground up.  You get older and wiser and realize that you can't do much about anything without exhausting way more effort than it's worth.  And the idealism melts into a something payment, signed away with indifference and learned helplessness.  Then we nod at the news and weather and find our joy in the smiles of the younger generation, in their sparkle, their naivety and wonder.

In case you wanted to see a jack-o-lantern massacre

 Ack.  that sounds so depressing.  I'm not depressed, just mellow, contemplative, reflective.  I love my life right now.  Love my kids and man.  Could just kiss them endlessly.  

And so as 2012 comes almost to a close.  To my pleasant surprise, the world has not ended yet.  Looks like the human race might survive.   As the kids are older, diapers are away in the closet. I don't have to worry so much about watching their every move, making sure they're not holding a knife or running with a glass jar.  We can spend more time focusing on what we like to do, and on little projects.

And time passes slowly again.  And we savor every minute with great gratitude.

and I just love this family with big kisses all over.

The End of Preschool

Today I got smacked across the face.  By the end of summer.

After spending the last three days camping at a yoga and music festival, playing in creeks dancing on my yoga mat, all the zen evaporated into a steam of anxiety, dread, and anticipation.  Kaio's starting Kindergarten tomorrow, Mari's starting a new job, and I'm spending the morning working set up at Nala's new coop preschool.

We got back home from the festival at 2am and I was up at 8, showering the dirt out from between my toes and fretting about being ready for Kaio's first day.

I had no idea this would be so hard for me.  Last Thursday we all visited the school for open house to meet the teacher and I started crying!  I burst into tears when he sat at the table in the seat labeled with his name.  I tried to talk to the teacher about things, she seemed so nice, but I kept fighting tears and choking on my words.  I cried all the way to the car and for another five minutes after.  Mari just laughed at me, singing a song about baby birds flying the nest.

This morning I discovered the anxiety manifesting in a short temper.  Nala spilled a ton of quail food on the porch as she was trying to help refill their feed container.  I had just finished telling her how we need to keep the feed off the ground because it doesn't wash away, it molds in the dirt!

I snapped at her and when I saw her bare toes swinging around the pile of feed, lavishing the texture, well I shoved her foot out of the way with my hand.  My moves were way more aggressive than I usually react, and she looked at me with big eyes demeaned.  I stood staring back, knowing I had let anger out and I needed to stop talking and acting in ways that in the end would be counterproductive to raising happy confident kids.  But what I saw next made me realize I was too late.

Kaio, standing next to her asked a question like, "Nala do you want to go to spray the hose with me?"

Nala's usually docile, sweet and soft spoken.  My mom calls her the only sane one around here.  She would usually answer Kaio with a mousy tone, "No thanks Kaio, I'm playing with this."  something like that.

Well, she looked at him, "No Kaio I don't want to Play With YOU!!"

-Every word louder until the end ripped out like a bear protecting its cubs.  I saw the anguish of feeling belittled erupting out of her face.  I'd never seen her speak with so much pain.

The Kaio reacted.  He raised his hand to hit her, turned to look at me first, saw I was stunned and not breaking anything up and he swung at her arm.  Without missing a beat she smacked him back.  He started yelling at her to go sit in timeout...

I stood there marveled by the scene I created.  I conceived these beautiful beings and now I had also just fabricated an altercation, spun it with my own anger.

And in that second it became unarguably clear that a mother is a pedestal supporting these little vases.  And if I'm wobbling, cracked, or under the weather, then these vases will fall and crack too.

I patched up the mess I made and calmed the kids down.  I realized I needed to get out of there before doing anymore damage.  So I took off to grocery shop for Kaio's lunch for the week.

Driving around from store to store seeking a Thermos for soup, I had some time to think.  Time to worry about Kaio and school.  I'm still so worried.  His expressive and receptive language is really behind.  He doesn't always understand everything that people say around him and he doesn't always know how to put the words together to express himself.  I'm so worried that kids will make fun of him or make him feel stupid.  I want to protect him from this but I don't think I'm capable of raising him well homeschooling.  As if to put an exclamation point on this point, yesterday on the way back from Yoga Jam he stole a sip from a friend of mine's soda without asking her if it was ok to drink it.  Then she offered him the last swig, he drank it and refused to say thank you but did burp directly in her face!  Mari and I were embarrassed and slightly infuriated.  I couldn't believe he had been so rude.  I felt like such a failure.

btw, we talked to him about it and today he thanked me for lots of things.

But, so here we are, time for me to go to bed, hope and pray that things go smoothly tomorrow.  That things go better than at soccer camp  this summer when I had everything set out the night before perfectly but the kids moved the soccer ball and then I forgot to bring it.  That ruined the whole experience for him, deflated his excitement like a pitiful balloon and he never wanted to go back to that camp.  (again demonstrating how much rides on the mom being on top of things!)

It's so much responsibility.  Driving around today I realized how much of my anxiety with school tomorrow is the scum stuck to the bottom of my boat, my own emotional baggage around school and feeling accepted or not by peers.  Kaio doesn't seem worried at all, but I'm making this big deal about kids liking him and him making friends.

Then I'm also having a helluva time relinquishing control.  The thought that someone else will be molding his world is tough for me to chew.  I've put him in preschool and daycare before but that felt very different than this because I knew the teachers well and felt like I had a direct line to them.  This public school seems so big and I don't think I can call the teacher tomorrow and ask how it went.  Did he have fun?

Ack, I'm getting teary just thinking about it.