REDEMPTION

Three boys meet in juvenile prison in Socialist Romania and turn the tables on the system

STEVE IKEMAN

REDEMPTION



As I typed this, unnoticed readers followed my lines,
and I thought I heard laughter echoing from heaven.



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ONE
The penitentiary for juvenile detention of Coliba?i de Arge? is located close to the small city of Mioveni, and at about 15 kilometers northeast of Pite?ti, the capital city of the Arge? district.
It lies within a charming sub-Carpathian countryside with picturesque forests, flowering pastures and rushing brook streams.
The penitentiary is a branch of the Pite?ti Prison and was established on April 1,1967, as a source of work force for the construction of the adjacent car factory, the Dacia Automobile Plant.
The distance from here to Bucharest, the capital city of Romania is a mere 125 km.
The subsection which houses juvenile delinquents is situated to the south of the plant.
Between the expansion of the car factory and the penitentiary rises a hill known as P?durea Valea Mare, a wooded area which reaches an altitude of about 400 meters.
Geographically, the town of Mioveni of which Coliba?i is a suburb, stretches along the left bank of the Arge?el River, a shallow water course, 2.5 kilometers north from its convergence with Tgului River.
The decision by the authorities to build the penitentiary next to the car factory had been both practical and punitive.
If this correctional institution had been built a little further uphill, closer to the mountains and away from the industrial plant and if instead of the dormitories, the commander's post, the canteen, the bath hall and the annex buildings surrounded by walls and surveillance towers, it would have been endowed with a hotel, a swimming pool, a restaurant and sports facilities, it could almost have passed for a mountain resort.
Unfortunately, the improbable setting of living in a vacation resort inside a prison was something I could only dream of.
During daytime hours, but especially at night, the harsh sounds emitted by the metal processing machines of the Automobile Plant, the noise of forklifts moving subassemblies between the buildings, the rumbling of heavy-duty trucks and the intermittent shouts of the workers were all echoing loudly over the hill.
On days when the mountain wind blew southward, the pungent scent of automobile paints was also carried over the hill to reach to our compound.
Yet all these background noises and chemical odors seemed to hardly faze the juveniles, the vast majority of whom hailed from the working-class milieu.
They didn't care much, because implausibly they believed they co-owned the Dacia factory, the only automobile producing plant in the country.
In theory, according to the Marxist tenets of the official communist ideology, the rightful owners of all means of production were the people of our country themselves.
In spite of that, the youngsters present here had been incarcerated at Coliba?i, precisely for committing offenses against the property of the socialist state.
Taking home stuff from work that was supposed to be yours, was considered a felony.
In the elaborate language of the judicial bureaucracy, the typical case of a juvenile delinquent was stated as follows:
"X-ulescu, an 18-year-old resident of Rm. Vcea, has been sentenced by so and so Courthouse to a term of imprisonment of two years for committing the crime of aggravated theft.
The court retained that during the course of the year 1982, he engaged in multiple thefts at the "Pioneer" paper products factory within the jurisdiction of his hometown.
Upon the actions undertaken, the perpetrator was identified (i.e., turned in by someone), arrested, and placed in the Center for Detention and Preventive Arrest of Vcea County, prior to his conviction.
Subsequently, he was transferred to the Coliba?i Juvenile Penitentiary to serve his sentence".
In fact, the vast majority of those who were here for re-education, deserved their prison term.
As for those who were facing hardship at home, the prison where juveniles didn't have to work, had free housing and got three meals a day and two baths a week, was the closest thing to a vacation camp they would ever get to.
It was a sunny summer day and all the boys who didn't have to perform house cleaning duties were gathering outside in the court to enjoy their leisure time.
I had finished my daily chores and was idly passing time, watching the comings and goings of the jackals who walked around going from one clan to the other, trying to intimidate the weaker guys and gather any data for their mandatory reports.
A group of boys had started a game of soccer in the yard behind the bathroom building and were chasing the ball happily, shouting and pushing each other.
Those who were athletically gifted, were lifting weights and doing push-ups in the area nicknamed "the athletic gym", while others, less disposed to exercise, sat down at tables playing cards, backgammon, or chess.
The rest were assembled in various groups, sitting down to chat and smoke or stretching out on the grass lawn to relax and get a tan.
Even though enjoying their leisure time, most of the youngsters jumped on their feet when at the gates blared a familiar sound: the horn of the prison bus.
The dark-windowed bus from Dr?g??ani had arrived at the penitentiary gates bringing a new batch of offenders, and the curious juveniles rushed forward to get a look at the newcomers.
The onlookers were gathering like spectators at a fight around the grey vehicle which was finishing its parking maneuver on the asphalted area in front of the main entrance.
Sergeant Soare, bustling with activity and full of self-importance had positioned himself there, shouting at everyone to step back and pushing them away from the door of the bus.
Ciocan and his cronies had quickly elbowed their way to the front row, eager to assess each one of the new arrivals.
The newly incarcerated juveniles appeared one by one in the door of the vehicle, descending the three steps of the bus and squinting in the harsh sunlight.
Most were ordinary factory workers with rough features, muscular and uneducated. Some of them were unusually thin, with drawn and haggard faces, and appeared to be malnourished.
Most were dressed in old, ragged clothes or in blue overalls, as if they had just come back from work.
Some of the more aggressive types were strutting around, gazing at their surroundings with a defiant scowl.
Many were pulling out cigarette packs from their pockets, lighting up the first smoke.
I was surprised to see among them a young man with hazel eyes and brown hair, who walked straight, calmly, self-assured, with unexpected confidence, as if he had not been brought down here for his mandatory re-education, but had instead arrived at a study field camp.
I made a mental note to investigate him a little more attentively later.
After the mandatory triage, the newcomers were usually assigned to one of the two inmate capos of the prison: Ciocan from block number one and ?urcanu from block number two, who took them over and released them to a so-called "more responsible member" of the group, who was supposed to be in charge of their re-education. The arrangement was like in the proverb about the two blind men who don't get very far because they guide each other until they fall into a pit.
Obviously, the first objective of their short re-education checklist was to establish who was the boss.
Once the hierarchy was established through intimidation and physical force, the weaker inmates were then compelled to join one of the clans organized around the strongman and were indentured to serve them.
Sometimes unfortunately, a more fragile juvenile broke down psychologically under pressure.
The outcome of such a break down resulted in reports to the Directorate of Penitentiaries which read like this:
"The 17-year-old inmate from Vcea County (ironically, named Andrei Vceanu), who was sentenced to four and a half years of prison for robbery and was incarcerated at Coliba?i Penitentiary, County of Arge?, was absent from roll call on the morning of July 21, 1982, and was found hanging in the cell number 120 at seven forty-five a.m..
The medical staff within the prison attempted to resuscitate the inmate (pro forma), but without success (they had no idea how to resuscitate someone, and besides he was already cold).
His death was confirmed by the unit's nurse and his body was transported by ambulance to the Mioveni Hospital morgue. According to procedures, his family and the competent authorities, namely the Arge? Tribunal, the County Police Inspectorate, and the Forensic Medicine Service were promptly notified."
The egregious cruelty, incompetence, and criminal negligence of the institution's staff toward the most vulnerable of the boys was infuriating. Nothing different from other prisons in America and beyond.
The commander of the penitentiary was a reassigned major of the infantry, about fifty years old, named Ioan Farca?, a tall, imposing, conceited man, who believed himself to be the reincarnation of the medieval Kneaz Farka? of the Lotru, ruler of Severin County and half of Oltenia.
However, this self-conferred title of nobility was not accompanied by the leadership qualities attributed to the celebrated prince; the major being a coward and an opportunist who always turned like the weathervane to the direction in which blew the winds of politics.
He had no understanding of the juveniles' problems and wasn't interested in finding out about them.
All he wanted was to pass his time quickly and painlessly, so he could retire without cares.
With his approval I had taken upon myself the task of maintaining law and order in the establishment.
My favorite motto was "And justice for all!" This catchword was also the title of the eponymous 1979 movie, with Al Pacino playing the part of Arthur Kirkland, the young lawyer from Baltimore.
Just like me, Arthur detested the corrupt justice system and tried to help those in need.
However, most of the time, Kirkland's best intentions clashed with the lack of support from his associates and the amorality of a system which compelled him to plead the innocence of offenders who were in fact proven criminals, as in the case of a heinous judge who was accused of killing a prostitute.
I, however, didn't have to present my case in front of a jury, and could employ subtler methods than Kirkland's, to protect the innocent and achieve justice and fairness for all.
To the extent that such a thing was even possible.
To that purpose, I had been assigned to the difficult mission of investigating potentially dangerous situations and bringing them promptly to the attention of the authorities.
However, I had no intention of being labeled a snitch inside the prison community.
In the event that some of the wicked, older inmates tried to exploit a newcomer's weakness, instead of reporting the perpetrator to the guards, I solved the situation by using against him the threat of violence (obviously, for the benefit of the culprit), or if required, by administering him a discreet and judicious preventative correction.
For this, I had been tacitly acknowledged by all those who had two neurons to reason with. All decision-makers understood that a pinch of prevention was better than a pound of cure.
Some juveniles were more antisocial than others, but none of the astute ones wanted an incident which could trouble the waters and result in an investigation from the Directorate of Penitentiaries, the Ministry of Justice, or worse, from the dreaded Office of State Security.
That's why, when a situation arose which could escalate into a crisis, there was always someone in the crowd who cautiously approached me and asked discreetly for my assistance.
In the end, the Commander had come to appreciate my method of action at its true value and granted me carte blanche regarding the cases of potential violence.
With the tacit understanding that I was not to report back to him. He was satisfied to know that peace reigned in the prison and wasn't interested in knowing how it had been achieved.
I was just about to leave, when the last juvenile to arrive stepped off the bus.
He was a young lad, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, gracefully small, with green eyes and blonde hair and was modestly dressed, as if he was coming from the countryside.
The boy walked slowly, bowed, head down, visibly embarrassed to find himself in prison.
I was appalled to see him here.
What was this clean-cut boy doing here, who hadn't yet graduated mid school?
He had no means to understand the gravity of his situation and looked like an innocent lamb thrown among the wolves. Someone surely intended to take revenge on him or his family.
His fate had been sealed on his arrival; he just didn't know it yet.
Damn the injustice of this world!
I noticed evident interest and agitation among the members of Ciocan's group, who were pushing forward in the crowd to see the newcomer better, making it difficult for Sergeant Soare to maintain order.
Watching Craciun's gang stare at the poor lad made me furious. Bastards were up to no good.
I was so angry I wanted to kick them out of there.
Wow, easy, easy! I had to calm down! Violence wasn't going to solve anything.
My mission was to save the innocent, so I sat down to think.
What was about to happen in the next few minutes was going to decide his fate.
And suddenly, a brilliant idea struck me, and I realized what I had to do.
Puffed up by his own importance, Sergeant Soare had stationed himself at the bus door with a list in hand and was organizing the juveniles, calling them by name, shouting orders, and yelling at some to put out their cigarettes and line up.
After he formed up the row, Soare moved to the front to take the lead, ready to march them in for triage.
Acting quickly, I approached him and said firmly:
-Comrade Soare, that blond boy at the back of the row is my cousin. Please allow me to talk to him for five minutes! Soare, whose intelligence fortunately was not his strongest asset, looked at me suspiciously. -Your cousin, Gavril??
-Yes, on my mother's side, I hurried to add, before he could ask me what his name was.
-Alright, Gavril?, replied Soare moving along, five minutes, after which you bring him personally in for triage! Do you understand?
-Yes, sir, I said.
-Don't forget, you're responsible!
-I won't forget!, I replied as I walked away.
I waited until the blond boy reached me and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
-What's your name, young man?
-Ionu? Be?leag?, comrade, he said timidly. So, judging by his name, he was Moldovan.
-Listen to me carefully, Ionu?! I said. My name is Marius Gavril?. You're my cousin. Do you understand?
I'll give you a quick embrace, as if we haven't seen each other in a long time. You hug me back, and after that we sit down on the bench, and I'll explain.
It's important we give the impression we've met unexpectedly.
Before Ionu? could say anything I hugged him, and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, and he held me for a moment around the waist. We separated, sat on the bench, and I said seriously:
-Ionu?, you're in great danger, and only I can save you!
He looked at me suspiciously.
-Save me? From whom?
-Look around you! Don't you see how many eyes are watching you?
Do you think any of them want what's good for you?
Ionu? stiffened.
-You want to save me, so you can make me your slave? Thanks, but I can take care of myself!
Before I could say anything further, he jumped up and rushed toward his group which was now filing into the reception building.
I sighed and followed him.
As I suspected, Ciocan had approached Soare at the door of the triage and was having an animated conversation with him. I slipped past them and entered the barber's shop, where Florin was busy cutting short the hair of the new arrivals.
They were seated one by one in the chair and Florin used the only electric clipper of the unit to buzz-cut their manes with long strokes, like he was shearing sheep.
I positioned myself next to him and slipped a pack of Bulgarian BT cigarettes into the pocket of his smock. -Florin, do you see that blond boy at the back? He's my cousin!
Florin whistled admiringly.
-Florine, I'm serious, he really is my cousin!
You leave him till last, and when his turn comes, your machine breaks down.
He stays unshorn, understood?
-Yes, chief, I got it, the machine breaks down, and that's it!
-Bravo, Florine, you're a good guy, I'll remember you!
Florin slapped his palm against the pocket of his smock, laughing:
-Alright, chief, we're paid!
I exited the barbershop and crossed the road, going to the commandant's office.
Maria the secretary, had just finished typing a document on her machine, had taken out her nail polish from the drawer of the desk and was doing her manicure.
The sharp acetone smell of the red varnish she was using to paint her fingernails was filling the office.
She was dressed stylishly according to local fashion, in a green two-piece suit which was fitting somewhat tight over her plump waist, and was wearing a matching dress in olive color underneath it.
The scent she wore was a strong Russian perfume called Krasnaia Moskva, or Red Moscow, which I later learned, had been copied after the American perfume Elizabeth Arden Red Door.
Or maybe the other way around.
In any case, its smell mixing up with the vapors of acetone took your breath away.
-Comrade Maria!, I said hurriedly, I need a white envelope, and please notify Comrade Commander that I need to talk to him.
While Maria was in the boss's office, I pulled out the four one hundred notes I always carried around with me in the back pocket of my pants and slipped them discreetly into the envelope. Farca?, dressed in his green military uniform with epaulettes on the shoulders showing his rank, was sitting behind the desk with an all-important mien, focused, scribbling something in a file with his fountain pen.
From the color portrait hanging on the wall behind him, the benevolent Head of State smiled enigmatically. The commander was in a good mood.
-How are you doing, Gavril?? Sit down!
-Comrade Major, I said firmly taking my seat, I need a favor!
Recalling my past useful services, the major asked amiably:
-What favor, Gavril?? Speak!
-One of the newcomers, Ionu? Be?leag?, is my cousin on my mother's side.
I would like you to allow him to live with me.
-What, Gavril?? Up to now you've been pestering me to give you permission to live alone, and now you need a companion?
-Yes, Comrade Commander! You're right about that, but this is a different situation: Ionu? is my relative!
-Hmm, said Farka? suspiciously; you're related, huh? Do you have any documents to prove it?
-Of course, Comrade Major, I said handing him the envelope, I have here four certificates, all signed by Nicolae B?lcescu himself!
-Aha!, he said, putting the envelope in his desk drawer, the blue forms! Good! And do you have any others?
-Not for now, but the holidays are coming soon, and I'm sure Nicolae B?lcescu will sign another set of documents!
-Alright, Gavril?! he said importantly, it's approved! And raising his voice, shouted:
-Maria, send for Sergeant Soare!
-He's right here, said Maria from behind the door, waiting to be received by you!
-Alright, send him in!
Soare entered with his cap in one hand and a dossier in the other.
-Long life, Comrade Major! he said hesitatingly, surprised to see me sitting there in a chair.
-What do you have there, Soare? asked the Commander without offering him a seat.
-The situation of the newcomers, said Soare, handing him the file.
Farca? leafed through it and stopped at a name. -What about Ionu? Be?leag?, who did you place him with?
-With Marin Ciocan.
-At the request of Be?leag??
-No, it was Ciocan's request.
The major rose threateningly from his chair.
-Since when are we doing what the inmates command us to do, Soare?
Are you getting bored here and want to go back to the regiment?
Forgetting I was there too, Soare snapped reflexively upright in the position "at attention" and shouted:
-No, Comrade Commander, I made a mistake, but it won't happen again!
-Alright, Soare, said Farca?, resuming his seat. Duly noted! You place Be?leag? in the same room with Gavril?. You have a free bed there! Understood?
Soare snapped again at attention and shouted: -Understood, Comrade Major!
-Room 105, I said from my chair.
-Did you hear that, Soare? Room number one hundred and five! You have a free bed there!
-Yes, Comrade Major, room number 105 replied Soare automatically, and turned on his heels, going back to triage, to pass the bad news to Ciocan.
-Listen Gavril?, said the Commander after Soare left, the boy is now in your care.
You'll attend to his re-education! You'll be his mother, father, and beloved homeland! Understood?
-I'll be like an older brother to him, Comrade Major!
-Brother or not, make sure I don't hear you two did something stupid, understood?
I left the major alone in his office, to count his money and exited the commandature.
I knew that after roll call, the next move for newcomers was to go to the showers.
Already their group was gathering in the courtyard by the baths, each carrying the supplies they had received earlier from maintenance.
Among them was Ionu?, unshorn, with his long hair flowing in the evening breeze.
The crimson setting sun, sending its last rays of the day through the trees beyond the walls was putting a reddish-golden glow into his blonde tousled hair.
At that moment he entered my soul. I was ready to save him. I knew what I had to do.
Ciocan was a primitive who acted on instinct, and his next move was predictable.
To bring Ionu? into his circle, he had to break him down first.
I walked inconspicuously around the bathroom building and slipped inside through the back door. Fortunately, nobody was around at the time.
Once inside, I walked into the shower room and hid in the storage closet, where they kept brooms, buckets, and mops.
The door of the storage was slightly shorter than its frame, which allowed me to peek through the gap between them, as if I was at the theater.
Half an hour later the newcomers began to arrive to the showers, dressed in their olive-green prison underwear, each holding in his hands a well-worn towel and a bar of cheap soap.
I spotted Ionu?'s blonde head popping up among them.
Soon the competition began for the use one of the four working showers, and the muffled sound of the bathers' laughter, protests and swears, mixed with the barked orders from the guards could be heard along with the noise of running water.
Towards the end I saw Ciocan with his round bowling ball-like head, sneaking, tiptoeing towards the showers, also clad in his green underwear.
One by one, the boys finished their bath, dressed back up and began to return to the locker room and only a group of four remained behind.
Someone turned off the lights.
Several voices could be heard from the direction of the showers.
Ciocan and his lackeys had cornered Ionu?, standing around him and pushing him from one to the other.
He pleaded timidly with them asking them to let him go, while they laughed at him and mocked him.
Taking advantage of the distraction, I emerged stealthily from my hiding place and slipped behind the box of dirty towels.
Watching them in the dim light made clear that Ionu? was becoming increasingly frightened.
No matter how hard he tried to yell for help, his voice grew weaker.
Suddenly, Ciocan pushed him forcefully in the chest with his hands, causing him to stumble and fall, but Cr?ciun caught him up in mid-air and threw him back.
I felt pity for him, but he needed to learn his lesson.
They continued to toss him around, shouting and laughing, until he grew dizzy, lost his balance and staggered, unable to stand on his feet.
At that moment I rushed out from my hiding place and delivered a swift, sharp jab to Cr?ciun's left side.
Cr?ciun was not ready for this, since he was tied up watching eagerly what was going to happen to Ionu?.
He groaned and doubled over in pain, and I stepped by him and threw a punch into Cocean's plexus, who, after hearing Cr?ciun moan had unwarily turned sideways, facing me.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Ciocan who, furious that I was spoiling his fun, was rushing toward me with his fists raised up, like a bull who had seen red.
I stepped calmly aside and tripped him, causing Ciocan to spin in the air and crash to the ground with a thud that shook the floor, after which, carried by the inertia of the movement, he slid over the soap scum left behind by the bathers and glid across the cement floor as if he was on skating ice, until with another thud his head bashed against the opposite wall of the hall and he lay down there on the floor, groaning.
I walked over there, leaned over him, grabbed him by the hair with my right hand and slammed his head against the floor.
Bang! -Hey, Ciocane, I said, how many times do I have to tell you this boy is my cousin?
Bang, bang!
-Aw, let me go, chief, I'm stupid and I didn't understand.
Bang! -How are you?
-I'm stupid.
Bang, bang!
-I didn't hear you. Louder!
-I'm stupid! yelled Ciocan.
-Did you hear that, guys?
-We heard it, chief, said Cocean from the showers, let him be, we won't do it again!
I released Ciocan and sniffed my hand disgustedly.
-Hey, Ciocane, you better wash your head when you go to the showers, because you stink!
-I washed it yesterday in a basin, said Ciocan in a weak voice.
-Then, hey, Ciocane, remember to change the water in your basin before you wash!
A giggle returned from the showers.
-Y'all get out of my sight now!
Ciocan and his lackeys staggered off the ground the best they could, and made their way slowly toward the exit, moaning in pain.
I returned to Ionu?, who was hunkered down on the floor under the pouring shower, cold water flowing over his back. His head was hung low, and he held his knees in his arms, shivering from head to toe, petrified with fear.
I bent down, grabbed him carefully at the armpits and lifted him, but he was unable to stand on his feet.
I let the water clear the soap off him, held him upright with one arm and turned off the faucet.
-It's over, Ionu?, I said gently, they're gone!
He continued to tremble and didn't seem to hear me.
-Hold me by the neck!, I said firmly and scooped him up in my arms.
Ionu? wrapped his arms around my neck, and we started to move, heading back toward the locker room.
He had not recovered yet from his fright, and although I tried to encourage him, he continued to shiver and seemed utterly shocked. His green eyes were dilated with fear and his wet hair hung disorderly over his face.
We reached the empty locker room, and I sat him down on the bench and rubbed him all over with a dry towel.
Ionu? was shivering, struggling to speak and articulated with difficulty:
-Thhhank you Mmmister Ggavril?!
I dressed him in the jumping suit provided by maintenance, and we went back to the bath hall, with me holding him around the waist as if he was a weakling.
The fat, lazy bath assistant looked at us dumbfounded, but didn't dare say anything.
Outside, the sky was darkening, and the snitches roamed everywhere.
Ionu? was walking slowly, head bowed down, holding on to me.
We walked in between them, ignoring their malevolent looks and perfidious whispered comments and headed toward the dorm. As we entered the hall of the building, Ionu?'s legs gave way again and I had to raise him up.
I carried him in my arms as if he were a child, entered the room, kicked the door closed behind me and deposited him on the lower bunk.
However, he could not lie down and sat on the edge of the bed, shivering as if he had been scooped out of a freezer.
I placed a blanket over him and pulled out of its hiding place the bottle of rum which was kept for special occasions.
After unscrewing the leg of the nightstand, I took out of it a small tube with tiny diazepam tablets and pausing to think for a moment pulled out two, dropped them into a small glass, and filled it up with rum.
I shook it a bit, and the pills dissolved immediately.
I sat down on the bed next to him and offered him the rum.
Ionu? was not used to hard drinks and at first he choked on it and coughed, but after he relaxed, he managed to down it.
I poured myself a shot too, filled his glass again, and we toasted. "Cheers!"
The strong alcohol began to take its effect and Ionu? was recovering from his state of shock, but was still stammering.
-P-please forgive me, D-Domnu Ggavril?, for rejecting you when you wanted to help me! You are a g-great man! I d-don't understand people very well. Please, d-don't hold it against me!
-Don't apologize, Ionu?, I said seriously. It's normal to be cautious in a place like this. You can be attacked when you least expect it.
My remark brought back the memory of what had happened and made him grimace in horror.
-B-but why did they attack me? W-what do they want from me?
-When was the last time you looked in a mirror? Do you know how handsome you are?
They just want to take advantage of you and make you their servant.
-Ddomnu Ggavril?, I beg you to help me. You are my savior!
-Alright, Ionu?, you can rest assured. You almost got placed in the same room with Ciocan, but the commander entrusted you to me.
They all think you're my cousin because that's what I told them, but I'll actually be like an older brother to you. This is my room, and from now on, it will be yours too.
You will sleep in the bottom bunk, and I'll watch over you from the top.
And because you're my younger brother now, you can call me by my first name: Marius.
I knew he was hungry and pulled out the plate I had set aside, sliced the bread and the cheese, and gave him the pieces to eat along with a cup of cold tea.
He was indeed starving and gobbled them down gratefully.
-You're safe with me here, I told him, but among the others, you need to be cautious.
Don't talk to them no matter how much they're trying to tempt you. Respond only with yes and no.
I'll keep an eye on you from a distance, but I can't do you any favors!
Ionu? looked at me with his expressive green eyes, trying to say something, but his tongue stumbled.
I had no idea how much he understood of what I was telling him.
When he finished his dinner I laid him down on his bed, covered him with the blanket and raised up to leave, but he pulled me by the sleeve, pleading in a trembling voice:
-"P-please stay with me a little longer, until I go to sleep!"
I sat by his side, watching him until he loosened up and his breathing became deep and regular.
When he fell asleep, I climbed up onto my bunk and tried to go to sleep too, but the weight of the responsibility I had taken with him kept me restless, and my nap was slow to come.
I didn't sleep well that night and when the wake-up call rang, I was already on my feet.
Ionu? was sleeping soundly, and I had to shake him by the shoulder.
-Wake up, Ionu?, we have a long day ahead!
He struggled to wake up and sat groggily on the edge of the bed, his blonde hair completely disheveled.
I heated water in the kettle with the electric coil and offered him a cup of sweetened instant coffee, which he drank gratefully.
-Domnu Marius, what did you put in my rum last night?
-Nothing, just a diazepam. You were stressed.
-And from one diazepam, I feel so dizzy?
-Alright, I put in two. You were very stressed.
-I slept well. Thank you for staying with me until I fell asleep.
-Well, Ionu?, I care for you like a brother, but once we leave this room, you will be like a stranger to me.
Today you are on my cleaning team.
I will assign you to clean the bathrooms. I'll treat you harshly and hurry you along.
Stay near me, but don't get too close, do not address me, and don't try to touch me.
If you don't do what I tell you to do, and don't listen to me, I'll be forced to slap you across the face.
It will break my heart, but I'll have to do it, because otherwise, I'll lose all authority.
All eyes are on us. Everyone is wondering why I took you in. How come I did you such a favor?
Many want to know what happens here because there are many who must write informative notes.
What you don't know yet, is that my uncle is Colonel Gavril? from Rm. Vcea office of State Security.
He has taught me everything I know about martial arts, and helped me obtain everything I needed here.
He knows I asked to live alone and will not be pleased to find out that I took a companion.
If he takes his hands off me it will be bad for us. I have many enemies.
To get ahead of them though, I'll send him a message and explain that I felt pity for you and told the commander that you're my cousin.
I don't know if he'll believe it only was a good deed, or if I had ulterior motives which could be guessed, and I don't know how he will react to the news, but he knows what life is about in prison and has some tolerance for certain aspects.
Fortunately he has complete confidence in me, and knows that I have my dignity, personal integrity, and a moral sense of duty.
However, I don't know if he will approve the changes.
Ciocan is stubborn and will try to attack you again. The first failure has taught him nothing.
?urcanu from block two is more reasonable, but Ciocan who is the boss here, is crazy enough to want to break up the peace.
But his time has passed. He has lived his life and eaten his fill.
I've already thought about a replacement for him.
-Who?
-The tall, quiet guy who came with you on the bus.
-Marc?
-Yes, he has leadership qualities and I believe I'm not mistaken about his potential.
He will make for a good boss at our block.
There was more to say, but the guard's baton hitting the door made us both jump, and we left the room to go to the morning roll call and to the canteen for breakfast.



TWO
Marc was waiting for me, seated on the referee's bench by the football field.
He had probably arrived ten minutes earlier to inspect the place I had suggested.
We shook hands, and he grinned at me:
-Nine months for speculations with jeans from Turkey, eh?
-Yes, I replied with a smile, I was trying to save money for a car. And you?
-Poker, he said cheerfully.
I cleaned out the son of the first secretary of Bra?ov County at a poker game, and his father ordered the judge to make an example out of me. A year in the pen for illegal gambling and financial fraud.
-You were studying Law, right? It seems like you didn't quite grasp the functioning principle of class struggle.
-Neither you, the leading principles of socialist economy.
We laughed for a while, and Marc asked me:
-How's Ionu? doing? Rumor has it he's very fond of you, and you of him.
-Exaggerations! We're like brothers. Our relationship is as platonic and pure as the snows of Kilimanjaro.
Anyway, let's not talk about it anymore!
-What I want to say is that it would be good to give the jackals something else to talk about, so they take their eyes off you, at least for a while.
-Exactly, Marc. I like the way you think, and that's why we're here.
I've been watching you during the two weeks since you arrived and I've concluded that you have leadership qualities.
Especially considering your remarkable ability to extract important information from Mrs. Maria by using your personal appeal and a couple of well-placed compliments. For example, I noticed that she uses her perfume, "Red Moscow" more often when you're around. Despite being forty years old, she's still pretty attractive, and she's sensitive to your masculine charms.
-Ha, ha, ha! Point aimed at, point hit!
-I appreciate your social skills and your spontaneous humor, but only as long as I'm not the target of your jokes.
-Thank you, Marius, I appreciate you too. I've learned a long time ago that you can't become smart unless you play against someone smarter than you.
-This seems to be a risky statement, given that you're here precisely because of an excess of intelligence!
-Ha, ha, ha! Isn't that ironic how fate tests us on how much one can bear upon his shoulders in his lifetime?
-That's true, especially if the suffering is self-inflicted! However, there are some who believe that fates owe them everything and they take whatever they want without asking anyone about anything.
-If you're referring to Ciocan, I believe the same exact fate which gave him everything will soon take it all away. Are you familiar with the Greek concept of hubris?
-You never cease to amaze me, Marc!
Not only are our minds aligned, but your intuition is spot on.
Yes, Ciocan has jumped the horse, and his fate is sealed. We only have to help him do it to himself.
Besides, we need a new boss in block one, and you'll be the one. I've already talked with the commander about it and he agrees in principle.
-Why don't you take the position? You're in the same block and have the most experience.
-The thing about blocks doesn't matter. I don't need to be in the spotlight all the time, and operate best from the shadows.
As for you, I believe you've had enough of living under ?urcanu's thumb and for his part, he would give anything to see you gone. Everyone knows that ?urcanu isn't the sharpest pencil in the box. You're too smart for him and he doesn't want to play against you.
But your value lies elsewhere.
You've studied Law, and we need a legal expert.
Marc wrinkled his nose, baffled.
-An expert, my ass. I haven't finished second year in Law school, and haven't even been able to reach to the end of the Roman Jurisprudence course!
-Only, this place with its gladiators, slave masters, and violators is organized exactly upon the military model of ancient Rome. You're in the best position to gain all the legal experience you desire.
-Ha, ha, ha! laughed Marc. So, I'll be General Marcus Antonius. Who will then be Cleopatra?
-I wouldn't want to divert the discussion to the topic of love, but I'm sure she will present herself to you at the right moment! You'll only have to choose wisely, because you know how their story ended.
I don't think you want to throw yourself on the tip of your own sword!
-Well said! I subscribe to that, but you can never be too careful when it comes to affection; just look at yourself!
-Marc, I'm convinced you've learned from your studies that discretion is the most important part of valor. Therefore, let's be discreet!
-Using all the discretion I can muster, why did they give Ionu? a year in prison? It doesn't seem to me like he's capable of doing anything that would justify such punishment.
-It's a sad story.
Last spring he was on vacation for the first time with his school, at a camp in Bu?teni, up in the Bucegi mountains. Everything was fine and he was friends with everyone, except for a little gypsy boy from another school who was picking on him.
One day, the group was called up to go on a trekking trip up on the plateau, to the Piatra Ars? cabin.
Ionu? who wasn't feeling well on that day, stayed behind. He was sleeping in his bed when he suddenly woke up at being jumped by the young gypsy boy.
Ionu? had a spring knife under his pillow, which his brother Vasile had given him for the trip, but before he could pull it out, the little Roma boy grabbed him by the wrist.
-Do you know how to use that, little one? Hand it over because I need it!
Ionu? twisted to escape from his grasp and the boy's hand flipped up, causing the knife to stab him in the abdomen.
The gypsy boy started screaming and holding his stomach with his hands, but blood was gushing between his fingers.
Ionu? rushed to reception, and they called for an ambulance.
That evening, the police came to arrest him for attempted murder.
The Roma boy's father visited him in police custody the next day and shouted at him:
-You bastard! Do you know what you have done?
I'm the chief of the gypsy community of Craiova, and I have lots of money to burn! I'll bury you for this!
No one took his side except his brother, who told him he did well to want to defend his honor.
-Poor Ionu?!
-I hope I've completed the info you have about him, aside from the details you skillfully extracted from Mrs. Maria.
-It's truly sad! It was an accident. And they did him a great injustice.
-Now you understand better why I care for him?
-Yes, indeed! And now for the practical part. How do you want us to deal with Ciocan?
-I won't touch him, but Ciocan has a heel of Achilles.
Think about it, what could make him ask for his transfer?
-I don't think he'll do it if you tell him, but the only thing that could break him, would be if he were proved to be passive.
-Exactly, Marc! Ciocan acts the lion in front of everyone, but he is actually a homo.
Occasionally, he jumps the fence at night to meet his cronies in the grove by the stream for a raunchy party of frolicking and drinking. It's an exclusive club. All wear ski masks.
If his servants knew what he's doing during those nights, they'd beat him up badly.
-Do you know the date of the next party?
-No, but I'll find it out soon.
-And then we'll show up discreetly among them from the shadows. I hope we won't have to do what they do.
-Under no circumstances, and if anyone tries anything, I'll break their face!
-Ha, ha, ha! Good plan.
We only need a camera with a flash, and we can sell their photos to the local newspaper!
-The commander has one in his safe, and he'll lend it to us, on the condition we return it intact.
He didn't ask what we need it for, when I talked to him. Do you have a ski mask?
-No, but I'm sure you can get two.
-Consider it done.
-Perfect! I can't wait for you to invite me to a party.
-It's not exactly my kind of party, but it will be Ciocan's farewell party.
-By the way, there's a guy at your block named Botin?, a.k.a. Gin? (the Hen), tall, skinny, and with a crooked nose, who quite amazed me a few days ago.
-Yes, I know Botin?; he's a bit slow and because he's aware of it he avoids talking too much.
He understood long ago that it's better to be silent and be considered a fool than to open up your mouth and remove any doubt.
-Well, imagine that I, who don't smoke treated him to a cigarette and he gratefully pulled me aside and whispered in my ear:
-Mr. Marc, do you know what they call Marius Gavril??
-What do they call him, Bo?tin??
-They call him Ze Enforcer, and I coined his nickname!
-How did you come up with that, Bo?tin??
-You know, I saw an American movie on VHS tape, and that's what it was called.
-But do you know what that means?
-No! When I explained it to him, he got kind of scared, pulled me anxiously by the sleeve and said:
-Please Mr. Marc, don't tell Mr. Marius about this, because I'm a bit afraid of him.
-Ha, ha, ha! I'm flattered!
Marc, after you take over the position of chief, please give Bo?tin? a day off from work on my behalf for his intellectual effort.
Who knows? Maybe that will encourage some who can read, to go and check out books from the library.
This way, we may actually make a small contribution to their reeducation.



THREE
I was in my bunk bed above, taking a nap, when Ionu? stormed into the room, climbed up the ladder by the bed post, and jumped over me in bed like a child.
-Marius, Marius, I saw Ciocan and Cr?ciun with handcuffs on their wrists, being escorted by guards to the prison bus to take them away to Tg. Jiu. Hooray! We got rid of them!
-I know, Ionu?, I said, holding him a bit farther away from me; they hid somewhere all night and in the morning at the first hour they showed up at the commandant's office to ask for their transfer.
As I advised him, the Commander put handcuffs on them and locked them up in the pen until the bus arrived. Everyone was looking for them in the dorms, wanting to lynch them.
-But how did you do that?
I explained how, taking advantage of the darkness, Marc and I snuck, bottles in hand, to the place where Ciocan and Cr?ciun were hiding behind a bush.
-You should have seen his baffled face when I ripped off his mask and Marc blinded him with the flash!
Everyone scattered instantly like partridges in different directions, only Ciocan remained planted there, as if the sky had fallen on him.
Meanwhile, Cr?ciun had taken off, running.
Ionu? was laughing hysterically.
-What? He was trying to run away?
-Yes, and he tripped and fell flat.
Ionu? was holding his belly with both hands:
-Ha, ha, ha!
-But the funniest part is we didn't have enough time to get film for the camera.
There's no evidence of the crime. If Ciocan had known that, he would have laughed in our faces.
The commander was stunned when the two showed up at his place the next day, just as I predicted,
at the first hour.
He hasn't asked me anything about it yet, which means he's learned the truth from other sources.
The rest is history.
Ionu? rushed to cover me in praise.
-You're the smartest man in the world! You're Superman!
-Ionu?, I said, holding him a bit farther away, don't exaggerate!
August 23rd is coming in a few days, and they'll give out one day permissions to some of the boys for good behavior. We'll also get one.
By the way, uncle is pleased and even pleasantly surprised, about the way I've been handling you.
Thanks to our restraint, the jackals couldn't tarnish us.
We'll go to Rnic, and your family can travel there to meet you. Write them to make time for the visit.
In the evening you can come to my place and meet my girlfriend Marieta. I'm sure you'll like her.
She'll be like a mommy to you.
Uncle will have something to laugh about, and from that moment on he will have no more doubts.
Go to block number two now, to thank Marc. Only due to his help you were able to get rid of Ciocan.
Congratulate him, because he's now our new capo. The boys have organized a party in his honor.
-A party? How nice! Let's go!
-You're going alone. My role in this matter must remain obscure.
Be discreet. Don't stay long and don't drink anything they'll offer you.
Is that clear? Now go!



FOUR
Ionu? returned around seven, smelling of alcohol and cigarette smoke.
With his short, unkempt hair, he now looked like all the other juveniles.
He had eventually lost his blonde locks because Soare had personally taken him by the shoulder and carried him to Florin, the barber.
He knew he hadn't done right and was standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, looking at me defiantly.
I got out of bed.
-Get your towel and soap, I said coldly, we're going to the bathroom.
-Bbbut the bbathroom is closed at this time.
When he was intimidated, Ionu? started to stutter.
-Not for me!
The main entrance to the bathroom was indeed locked with chain and padlock, but I knew where Iorgu the bath attendant kept the key to the back door.
I opened it and we went in, but not before being seen by a few who were just returning from Marc's party.
The interior was almost dark, and only the faint light that lingered in the sky after sunset was filtering in through the high windows.
I sent Ionu? to the wash room to take a shower and sat down on a chair in the dark corner.
After about ten minutes the door creaked, and three juveniles from block two sneaked in quietly.
I recognized Ciuc? in the semi-obscurity, a muscular boy, worker at the Republic factories, who had been arrested and convicted for theft from the people's wealth.
He was known to everyone for his attitude as Ciuc? M?ciuc? and had been appointed by Soare as an overseer at the twenty-bed dormitory. The other who had come with him was Mih?i??, a tall, thin boy, a newcomer about whom I had heard good things. The third was a little rascal who went wherever the others went.
Judging from how they stumbled around, it was clear they had all indulged heavily in Marc's drinks.
They passed by without noticing me and were just about to enter the showers when I stood up.
-Where are you going, boys?
Scared by my outburst, Mih?i?? and the other guy took a quick step back, but Ciuc?, driven by the importance of his position and very brave due to the cheap alcohol flowing through his veins, riposted:
-So who are you to question us? I go where I want and talk to whoever I want!
-And who do you want to talk to? I asked him with false humility.
-What do you care? I want to see my friend Ionu?.
-He's in the shower.
-Yeah? he said, then I want to see him naked!
I bowed my head as if conceding to defeat and pretended to step aside, signaling for him to pass.
Proud of his victory, Ciuc? made the mistake to turn his back on me, and as quick as lightning I grabbed him by the nape of his neck with my right hand and with my left fist gave him a blow to the top of the head, which put him down on his knees.
I pulled the chair closer with my foot and sat comfortably, holding him in a vise grip.
The other two brave boys turned back looking for the door, but I stopped them with a single word.
I returned to Ciuc? who reeked of cheap plum brandy and tightened my grip on his neck.
-Hey, Ciuc? M?ciuc?, you punching bag, don't you know it's not nice to barge in on people uninvited?
Where are your good manners, your education, and the seven years at home?
I mean, pardon me, strike that, because you're from the orphanage.
I tightened my grip again, a little harder.
-Ow, man, it hurts, let me go!
I pressed his head down. -Hey Ciuc?, do you know how ducks talk?
-Quack, quack, quack.
Another squeeze. -No Ciuc?, say after me: I repent!
-I repent!
I squeezed again. No, say it quickly, quickly!
-I quack, I quack, I quack!
I lifted him by pressing hard up with my fingers behind his mastoid processes.
That's one of the most painful places in the body.
I heard in karate class that pressure applied to them with the fingertips hurts like the stab of a dagger.
I didn't believe it, and asked my uncle to press me behind them with his strong fingers.
It was perfectly true, and it still hurt three days later.
Ciuc? screamed as if he was in the fangs of a snake and then, when I let him go, he fell back down on his knees, holding his neck with both hands.
The other two were barely breathing.
I felt movement behind me and saw Ionu? in the doorframe, wrapped around his waist with a wet towel, looking at us with his mouth agape.
I turned to my prisoner.
-See what happens, Ciuc?-M?ciuc?! I said contemptuously. When you get back to your block you'll give your supervisor badge to Mih?i??; yeah, to this guy here. You're no longer dormitory chief, is that understood? He takes over the leadership!
-But... but... stammered Ciuc?.
-What? You think ?urcanu's not going to agree? Do you want me to talk to him personally?
Ciuc? rubbed his neck with a pained expression on his face.
-No, boss, you don't have to do anything. I'll give Mih?i?? the badge, and that's it. Please forgive us.
-Aha, you remembered your seven years at home, or eight? How many years did you spend at the orphanage?
-Ten years, sir!
-Good! I hope I have taught you something tonight!
-Yes, boss, thank you.
I turned to the third, the deplorable one. -And you, what's your name?
-Manole, sir.
-Master Manole, what do you have to say?
-Forgive us, sir, for the drink has gone up to our heads. We will be more careful from now on.
-Alright, you are good boys but seemingly wrapped up in dog's skin.
I want to see you at the library every day, understood? For those who can't read, I'll assign you a teacher. Is that clear?
They all nodded gratefully.
-Mih?i??, you will present me tomorrow with a list of all the illiterates, is that understood?
If you don't present yourself, you lose your badge! Is that clear?
-Yes, sir!
-Now, get out of my sight!
The three felons rushed to the door to escape and Ionu? approached me with wide eyes.
-And you? What do you have to say? I scolded him.
-Just that I'm sorry I behaved badly tonight.
-Come on, get dressed I said to him, and let's go home.



FIVE
This time it was my turn to go to a meeting arranged by Marc.
To make it more conspiratorial, he had sent me a coded message: ITIPLACEFOTBALUL1OM, which someone slipped under my plate at breakfast.
In translation, it read: "We'll meet by the soccer field at 10 in the morning. Marc".
When I arrived, he was already standing by our bench. He shook my hand saying:
-Let's take a walk!
We walked along the edge of the running track, ignoring the two or three busybodies who suddenly got the idea to stroll behind us.
-Congratulations on your new position, Marc! You've grown in a day as much as others in a year!
-Yes, and I've inherited a hornet's nest. Thank you, but no thanks.
-At least no one can accuse you of being an upstart. Think about it! You'll have the Commander's ear!
-Yes? And what am I supposed to do with it? I think it's clogged with wax because he hears nothing.
It's easier to move mountains than to get Kneaz Farka? personally involved in solving a problem.
-Welcome to our club!
-I think he either doesn't want to hear me or he's really deaf!
-No, he hears very well, but only what suits him. The medical name of this deficiency is selective hearing loss.
-Thanks for the theoretical part of the lesson, but I'd prefer some valuable advice!
-Excuse me? Do you think I'm the Genius of the Carpathians? You've accepted the position; you're now Marcus Antonius! Benefits come hand in hand with the job.
-And the major?
-He's stalling and guarding his pension.
You'll do the same when you're in his position forty years from now.
-I doubt I'll be around here by then, but let's better focus onto the present problems.
I'm stuck at the rail.
I've encountered stiff resistance right from the start.
None of them want to do what I tell them. They just nod acquiescingly and go on about their business.
Ciocan kept his flock in line only by terror.
Some are still limping due to the blunt arguments he was using.
I could do the same, only I don't know how to use violence.
The vast majority don't even have the mental fortitude to listen to reason and believe that my arrival has brought them total freedom.
-Yes, the freedom of anarchy.
Maybe we should let them throw a few bricks through the commandant's window, right when Farca? is comfortably sipping his morning coffee.
-So that he has a reason to call in the special forces of the Office of State Security?
Do you think we need to have the unit militarized?
Don't you know what that would do to us?
You know perfectly well that any act of rebellion on the eve of the great holiday of August 23 would be considered terrorism against the state!
They would arrest us for being the instigators of an uprising.
Do you really want to see the prison of Jilava from the inside?
-Ho, ho, ho, Marc!
Hold your horses! Did the boys stress you so much that you've lost your sense of humor?
Do you think I don't want to go on leave? Of course not. But there are alternatives!
Marc stopped walking.
-I'm waiting eagerly to hear about it!
-Just think! How can a group of 100 or 120 ignorant juveniles oppose you? Simpletons, teetering on the brink of illiteracy who are functioning solely by herd instinct, aimed at satisfying their basic needs?
-One hundred and sixteen!
-Correct, but what unites them?
Marc slapped himself on the forehead.
-They're organized!
-Exactly Marc, I'm proud of you!
-So, all I have to do is eliminate the organizers!
-That would be a bit too radical. Stalin style. Rather, try to reeducate them!
-Of course! I misspoke. I need to identify the heads of the resistance and bring to them the true light.
-Rather make them an offer they can't refuse!
-Perfect, Don Corleone, but how?
-Marc, have you ever heard of the gang of the four radicals?
-Yes! Weren't those the three top members of the Chinese Communist Party who, together with Mao's widow, were eliminated after the honcho of the Cultural Revolution passed away?
-You're perfectly informed. Radio Free Europe?
-No, Voice of America!
By the way, do you know how a State Security officer responds to the traditional greeting "Christ is Risen!"?
-I've been informed about that!
-Voice of America?
-No, Radio Free Europe!
We both laughed for a while, and then he asked me:
-Why the gang of the four radicals?
-Have you heard of the club of the four horses?
-No.
-I think it's time to diversify your sources of information. Maria has her limits.
-OK, I'm all ears.
-I'm going to tell you the names of the four horses, but I think it would be good for you to sit down.
Marc waved his hand impatiently.
-You're keeping me on tenterhooks!
-Hold on tight! Their names are Suru, Murgu, Roibu, and B?lan!
Marc's face fell. -But they're all on my block!
-Aha! The moment of truth!
Well, they are the organizers of the resistance.
As incredible as it is, these members of the steed farm have recognized their equine name affiliation and rallied around it like the Vlachs around the eagle with the cross in its beak.
It's a kind of secret society of illiterates, but with rules and secret oaths like the Masons'.
-You've left me speechless! How do you know all this?
-Simple logical deduction, my dear Watson! Now do you know what you have to do?
-Dear Sherlock, I feel like hugging you and giving you a kiss on the cheek!
-I wouldn't advise you to do that! Seriously!
-Perfect then! I'll call them in and talk to them. But what offer could I make them?
-Very simple. They either tone down their defiance, or you'll introduce them to Ze Enforcer!
-Ha, ha, ha! Genius!
Everyone has heard of how you demolished Ciuc? M?ciuc?, and fear has entered their bones.
-And judging by the number of busybodies who are following us now, they may conclude that arrangements have already been made!
-Ha, ha, ha! Do you know what the bartender asks the horse who walks into his bar and sits down sadly at the counter?
-No.
-Friend, why that long face?
-Ha, ha, ha! Just look at the faces of your horses after you put your cards on the table!
-By the way, speaking of bars, you should know that my party was a success. They drank all my drinks and also emptied my reserves.
-Aha!, Gone is "La Reserva del Due"!
Marc looked at me puzzled.
-It's the name given by Mexicans to a bottle of expensive and hard-to-get Tequila. "The Master's Reserve."
-My respect, Enforcer! You're a polyglot!
-Though, judging by the stench emanating from Ciuc?, your tequila wasn't made from agave but from rotten plums.
-What can I do? That's all my wallet could afford, but speaking of Ciuc?, your boy had a long chat with him. They looked like two intimate friends.
-That explains why he came barging in on us at the bathroom to see Ionu? naked. I didn't deign to explain to him that that's my privilege.
-Yes, poor Ciuc?! He's still holding himself by the neck. You'd think he has testicolis.
-Torticollis, and that's the result of the reeducation I gave him.
-You won't believe me, but I saw him at the library with three books in front of him. It looks like reeducation is working.
-Yes, and I also received the list of the illiterates from Mih?i??. Wouldn't you be willing to introduce them to the works of Eminescu and Arghezi?
-Glossa? -Zdrean??? C??elu? cu p?rul cre?? I think that's too advanced for them!
-No! They surely know the rhyme about stealing the duck from the coop from their kindergarten years, but maybe you should start with the alphabet.
-The stables of Augias? Who do you think I am? Hercules?
-I see you're an expert in Greek mythology, but have you heard of Socrates?
-The ugly one with a short nose, who liked boys and ended up being poisoned?
-Exactly, but he was also a great philosopher, and through his dialogues, the greatest educator of ancient Greece. He's the one who said: "I know that I know nothing!" Many generations have admired him.
Think about how you'll leave here with the title of emeritus professor and the love of all the rogues!
-As to love, I prefer women, but maybe what you say has some merit.
Marcus Antonius Praefectus Maximus! Sounds good!
-Okay, so I'll organize your school; the four horses will be your class supervisors, and you will be the director. Don't let empty titles go to your head!
I will act discreetly and drop in from time to time to inspect the class.
-And the leadership?
-Herr Farka? will be more than happy to give his stamp of approval and boast about his merits in reeducating his prisoners, and our reward will be in heaven.
-Amen! Can I enroll Ionu? too?
-Ionu? was studying the classics of Romanian literature in ninth grade, before he changed his domicile, so I'll lend him to you as an auxiliary professor. On the condition that you keep an eye on him.
-Which one? Left, or right?
-The one with which you see him if he strays from the right path.
-Deal!


SIX
I was dozing off, sinking blissfully into the pleasant world of sleep, when a glittering blue butterfly with a yellow body and green feelers like those from the Amazon jungle, landed on my nose and started walking back and forth on it with its little orange feet.
I tried to swat it a couple of times, but it stubbornly returned to my nose. It tickled my nose, and I had to sneeze. I woke up and opened my eyes.
Marieta, completely naked, was lying next to me in bed, with her generous breasts spread across my chest, tickling my nose with a goose feather that had escaped from the pillows during our frolics.
She was watching me amused with her beautiful blue eyes laughing so hard at my bewildered face, that her long, blonde hair bounced on her shoulders.
A year ago, after I courted her fervently and we started dating, all my friends envied me and wanted to know where I had found this gorgeous Nordic girl.
Indeed, I had been incredibly lucky to find her and for her love me. I was crazy about her.
-Marius, you silly boy! I think prison suits you well, because your performance has doubled in quality!
-But neither you have been lagging behind! Just look at the condition you've brought me to! We were both exhausted and sweaty after enjoying the best lovemaking we ever had.
If you'd been lacking life's simple comforts as I am, you would understand why I performed beyond your expectations. I missed you!
And how about you? Have you been faithful to me?
-You have no idea how many suitors from Rnic are following me, but the only one I think of is you!
For the last three months I've known nothing but going to work and back home.
-I love you, Marieta, and I want to marry you as soon as I get out of there!
Marieta rushed at me: -Let's make love!
-Marieta, are you crazy? I don't even have a trace of hatred left in me!
Marieta remembered the joke about the hatred and started laughing.
Wait, Marius, let me tell you a good one!
Do you know what the wife says to the husband during intercourse?
-No.
-Traiane, we need to paint the ceiling again!
-Ha, ha, ha, you're right; I better have the house painted before we get married.
After we played around a bit more, Marieta asked me a bit more seriously:
-Marius, what's up with that kid, Ionu??
-What's up?
-While we were in your uncle's car, he was only looking at you.
He reminds me of a duckling I saw on TV, who follows behind a cat because he thinks it's his mommy.
I shrugged my shoulders incredulously.
-I practically saved him from death. A defenseless, nice boy like him would have been quickly destroyed in that place. It's no vacation camp.
You would have read about him in the newspaper that he hanged himself; no one knows why.
-And what have you done for him?
-I did what I wouldn't have done for anyone. I took him under my protection.
Did I tell you I managed to live by myself in a double bunk room? Well, I took him in with me!
I briefly told Marieta the sad story of Ionu?, and she hugged me sweetly:
-Marius, you're an angel!
-An angel who lives in hell!
I talked to uncle, and maybe he'll get involved a bit, to help him.
The judge was biased, and his lawyer didn't even ask the most obvious question: "If this was an attempted murder, what was the boy doing in Ionu?'s bed when he was sick?"
-And where is he now?
-Uncle took him to the bus station to see his older brother Vasile, who came today from Moldova.
It will be an emotional reunion, with many tears.
I invited Ionu? to come over here tonight. He has nowhere to sleep.
-He can sleep here. I'll give him one of your pajamas. I need to cook something. Poor thing must be hungry. Go and do some shopping!
-Where should I go? Today is August 23, and all the grocery stores are closed; but look at what's in the fridge.
Marieta got out of bed naked and went to the fridge.
She opened the door, and I heard her exclaiming: -Marius, half of the Party's Household store is here!
I rushed over there and indeed; the fridge was crammed.
-Hooray! We're saved! I'm as hungry as a wolf too!
I embraced her and we started dancing around the kitchen, laughing. Marieta got dizzy first.
-Marius, you silly, let me go, because I need to get to work!
After checking the fridge again with dinner on her mind, Marieta started planning like a conscientious wife.
-I'm going to make eight chicken schnitzels, pork roast, fried potatoes, French toast, and apple pie.
There are about ten bottles of beer and two of wine.
For appetizers, we'll have white bread, salami, Prague ham, and sliced cheese.
What more can I say, we can throw a party for ten people!
-Perfect, and if you make us some sandwiches from what's left, we can take them with us tomorrow.
Please take home the rest. You have the key to my apartment and can come here whenever you want, but don't forget that our little nest of frolics exists only for the two of us.
-Of course. How do you think could someone get up here, when they have to pass by the apartment of uncle Gic? the army pensioner who lives on the ground floor? His door is always ajar, isn't it? I believe he has a direct phone line with the colonel, don't you think?
-Ha, ha, ha! That's right! Your feminine intuition never fails!
But before you start cooking, come back to bed for a minute, because your friend is waking up, and we better get busy.
Ionu? and his brother Vasile arrived at seven in the evening. They were very happy.
Uncle had driven them to the countryside in his car, to visit the fortified mansions of M?ld?re?ti.
They were visibly impressed by his kindness and spoke about him as reverently, as if he were God.
He had listened carefully to the story of Ionu?'s sufferings and promised to do everything possible to see that the judicial errors in his case would be investigated by the competent authorities.
We sat down at the table to feast on the food from the Party's Household store.
Vasile was recounting funny stories about his four young boys and about Ionu?'s childhood.
-He's the youngest of seven brothers, and we all love him like the apple of our eye.
He has just been admitted to high school, and now we don't know what's going to happen to his life.
We're from Bosanci, a village located a few kilometers south of Suceava. Our dad died in an accident two years ago, and if something bad happens to Ionu?, our poor mom will die of grief too.
May God keep you in His care, Mr. Marius, for you have shown him mercy and protected him!
Visibly embarrassed by Vasile's stories, Ionu? was looking at me trying to assess my reaction, while nibbling sparingly on his food.
-Mr. Vasile, I said, should I understand that only boys are born in your family?
Vasile laughed heartily.
-You're right, Mr. Gavril?, that's what has happened so far. But we really wish to have a little baby girl, and my wife is pregnant again. Maybe we'll be lucky this time.
At eight thirty, Vasile left for the train station to catch the last train for Bucharest, and we cleared the table and prepared to go to bed.
Marieta was taking care of Ionu? like a mother, making sure he wasn't lacking anything, while he answered monosyllabically and looked anxiously at me as if asking for my approval.
After she sent him to the bathroom to take a shower, we consulted and decided to put him to bed on the sofa in the living room.
I was awakened by the smell of coffee. Real Brazilian coffee.
Marieta, fully dressed was pouring coffee into two white porcelain cups from an enameled coffeepot. On the middle pillow on the sofa was a clumsy note written by hand: "I went to the train station".
We sat down at the table to drink our coffees. Marieta was very serious.
-Marius, we need to talk about Ionu?! Something's not right with this boy. He barely ate his food; he didn't drink anything and didn't take part in the conversation.
He was watching you all the time. He's too attached to you, and that's not normal. What does this mean?
I shrugged. What could I answer?
-I haven't offered him anything; just a bed in my room to get him out of trouble. He's frail and in great danger. I keep an eye on him from a distance, but I don't do him any favors because everyone is watching us, and it would be interpreted immediately. That's why I started the rumor that we're cousins.
Marieta looked into my eyes and asked me:
-Are you fond of him?
-Yes, you could say so, but only like an older brother.



SEVEN
During our two and a half-hour train journey from Rm. Vcea to Mioveni station, Ionu? sat curled up, grumpy, in a corner of the compartment, with his arms crossed, looking ahead morosely.
He was responding monosyllabically to my questions, and I decided to leave him to his thoughts.
We arrived at the campus at 2:45, fifteen minutes before the deadline expired.
Ionu? headed straight for the dormitory and lay down on his bed with his eyes closed.
I unpacked and went to the command post office to see if I had any messages.
I didn't have any. On my way back, I bumped into Marc.
-Hello, Mister Gavril?, nice meeting you!
-Hi, Marc. Looks like you've been studying Leon Levitzki's manual "Learn English Without a Teacher."
Did M?ciuc? recommend it to you?
-Of course! He flipped through it and couldn't find the word Enforcer.
-It's American slang. Levitzki was educated in polite British English.
-You're baffling me again with your cosmopolitanism!
-Forget about that; better tell me how you spent the great holiday. Let's sit down!
We sat on the bench in front of the post office.
-Just sitting in front of the TV like old women at home, surrounded by my disciples, who were watching the marching columns of the military parade with great interest.
I had the volume turned up to max and some of them almost jumped out of their seats when the Mig-15s flew thunderously over the official podium where the chiefs of the various departments of the Party stood below an immense portrait of the supreme leader.
After watching the columns of armored vehicles, most juveniles decided they wanted to join the army in order to be able to ride a tank or armored military vehicle.
The next parade involved sportsmen and women from the various sporting clubs of the Capital and the country, each wearing the uniforms specific to their sport.
During the interminable workers' demonstration, the boys got bored and went out for a cigarette.
At the canteen everyone received an extra portion of sausages and a warm bottle of beer.
How was your reunion with your girlfriend?
-Best sex I've ever had. Thanks to my uncle dinner was delicious. It's a pity you couldn't be there.
Marc moved closer to me, sniffing the air with his nostrils raised.
-Mm...what a delicious perfume! French. And very expensive. Let me think!
I know it! Fidji!
The creation of French perfumer Guy Leroche in 1966, which imitates the exquisite scent of flowers from the Fiji Islands. Superb!
-Correct Marc! I gave Marieta a bottle of Fidji perfume as a gift this year on her birthday.
-And how does the girl look like? Blonde, with blue eyes and big breasts?
-Marc, do you really want to annoy me?
-What can I do? I'm daydreaming.
-Better care about finding Cleopatra. I know her.
She's a Greek girl from Egypt with olive skin, black hair, black eyes, and a rather large nose. An expert in making love to Roman generals. Marc sighed and waved his hand. And Ionu??
-He met his brother, Vasile. Uncle took them for a walk and listened to their woes.
Very kind of him. I wasn't expecting it.
-Can you lend him to me for a while?
-Who, Ionu??
-No, the uncle.
-Why? Don't you have an uncle?
-Sure, I do, but he didn't move a finger when they picked me up.
It's true that I cleaned him up a bit financially too. Professional deformation, I admit; but we're relatives, and it wasn't right for him to hold that as a grudge against me.
-Aha! So, this is the best example of a zero-sum game."
-Of what?
-The zero-sum game is a mathematical concept pertaining to the game theory, which is a branch of applied mathematics.
-And what does it postulate?
-By 'game' we understand a situation involving two or more decision-makers tasked with choosing a strategy to maximize their gains in relation to the actions of others.
-And in simpler terms?
-In game theory, a zero-sum game describes a situation where one participant's gain is perfectly balanced by another participant's loss.
In other words, any situation that functions as a zero-sum game implies that if the total sum of losses is subtracted from the total sum of gains, the result is zero.
The opposite concept is a non-zero-sum game, where all participants gain.
For example, you gained your uncle's money at a poker game, and he didn't intervene to help you.
He let you go to prison, so he won't lose any more money playing with you.
-Hmm, that doesn't really make sense!
-Yeah, your situation is a bit exaggerated if you consider the zero-sum property, but it's a good example of a Pareto Optimality. -What's that?
-This is an important concept in economics and international relations, as described by the Italian economist Vilfredo Pareto. It refers to a state where no one's status can be improved without deteriorating someone else's situation.
A concrete example is the game of poker. Gambling works this way because it doesn't create added value, i.e. players gathered around the poker table are merely exchanging money among themselves, and do not create any product to be traded with the outside world.
The added value of the game is zero, thus the total sum is zero, as one player's gain is balanced by the losses of other players.
-Exactly! That's my theory too.
-Marc, your future is in a place called Las Vegas!
-Marius, you really want to annoy me?
I dream of it day and night! I heard that Elvis sings there.
-Was singing! He died in 1977 from obesity and stimulant drugs.
But he was a musical genius. Many believe he's still alive, and some have seen him appear in the windows of the White House. Kennedy has also been seen. There are pictures of them in the tabloids.
-Fakes! To live in America and be so naive! Incredible!
-Of course, but the fools' mother is always pregnant. And she travels to all countries.
-Does she have an international passport?
-Of course she does! Didn't she visit your home too?
-She might have, because my brother is kind of mentally challenged.
But as the fates willed it, he got a job in the merchant navy.
-Isn't he smuggling jeans from abroad?
-Sure he is, but he has a solid network of distributors. All hailing from Constan?a.
They were probably the ones who denounced you. They don't like competition!
I laughed sardonically.
-Yeah, I know, I know. Just like the state. That's why thieves are in prison, because the state hates their competition.
-Ha, ha, ha! Well said! How are you getting along with Ionu?? I saw you two coming back to the campus, and you didn't seem to be on the best terms. I thought you were going to hold hands.
-Marc! Am I to understand that our meeting wasn't entirely coincidental?
-Nothing is entirely coincidental, but while you were away, I had to take over some of your duties. I need to learn from my betters.
-Do you have to write informative notes too?
-No! Fortunately I haven't been co-opted yet. I don't present any interest to those who watch over the security of the state. I pretended I didn't know how to write in Romanian.
-Ha, ha, very funny!
However, if you want to get to Vegas, you'll have to convince them you're not able to learn any language.
-That would be harder to do after you promoted me to the position of school director.
-Weren't you a career professor of the street three-cups game?
-No, but I am a professor of poker, so maybe they'll send me to the Casino in Sinaia.
-Maybe just to the monastery. The Casino is closed. Gambling was banned in 1948.
-A monastery of nuns?
-Don't anger God! Of monks. Do you know how to make rosaries?
-No, but I know how to crochet. I can make lace. My mom taught me that when I was little.
-Then maybe your future is at the Folk Art administration's section for the visually impaired.
-Great! That's why it's said that in the land of the blind the one-eyed man is king!
-I hope you won't cut out an eye just to see if the proverb is true.
-No way! I need it to keep tabs on Ionu?. I'm taking seriously the task you gave me.
-Speaking of Ionu?, I have to go because I don't know what else is going through his mind!
-Give him a hug from me!
-I shrugged and started to leave. After I took a few steps Marc shouted to me:
-Marius, where's Fiji?
I shouted back over my shoulder:
-Tell Ciuc? to get you the geography manual from the library!
Ionu? was still lying in his bed where I had left him earlier, looking sadly at the ceiling.
-The bathroom is open Ionu?, I said; go and take a hot shower.
-Why should I go? I don't need to bathe.
-What kind of talk is that Ionu??
-Yes! You love her, but you don't love me!
-Come on, Ionu?, what are you talking about? What are you, five years old? How many times do I have to tell you that she's my girlfriend and future wife?
Marieta liked you very much and you were rude to her with no reason. You only had eyes for me.
She read you right away.
You're acting like a duckling who follows a cat around because he believes it's his mother.
That might be funny when you're in kindergarten, but not at sixteen years old.
You've fixed your affections on me, but this will pass. One day we'll laugh about all of this.
Ionu? wasn't saying anything and kept staring stubbornly up to the ceiling.
-Marieta asked me about you, and I told her I'm fond of you like a brother.
She gave me an ultimatum to choose between you and her. And you're not content with what you have?
Don't you know how frail you are? If something bad were to happen to you, your mother would die of grief.
Don't you feel sorry for her? Ionu? bent over as if he had received a blow below the belt and began to cry.
Through the sobs, he kept asking me in a weak voice:
-Why don't you love me?
I pulled out the last two diazepam tablets from the leg of the bedside table and Ionu? took them obediently.
Afterwards, I tucked him in his blanket, and he cried quietly a little more before he went to sleep.

EIGHT
September brought the first drizzles and a cold wind which blew chilling air down from the mountains. The cold weather drove inside all the troublemakers who used to prowl the yard.
My relationship with Ionu? had cooled considerably too.
During the day we talked without saying anything, and at bed time each of us snuggled for sleep into his bed.
It was amusing to watch him trying to hurt me.
I knew that his soul suffered after every altercation, but he made every effort to give me the impression that he was in control of the situation.
I treated him equally, even though I missed his cheerful and affectionate demeanor, but I couldn't let him drag us down further than we already were.
Access to the phone was restricted to the occasional conversations with my uncle, but I was instead engaged in an intense correspondence with Marieta, who had finally accepted the idea that:
one, I was not bisexual, and two, that I wasn't going to abandon Ionu? to a cruel fate.
Even if I wanted, I couldn't do otherwise. There was no alternative.
If I asked the commander to take him away, my whole house of cards would collapse.
At breakfast, I received another coded message from Marc via courier.
It read: NUNUMAICUPNE12M.
I showed up at noon at the warehouse where the literacy school was held.
-How poetic, Marc! I said after we shook hands, are you now quoting from the Gospels?
Do you want to start a religion course too?
-No! he said grinning up to his ears. That wouldn't do, because I can barely keep the boys in for the literacy course. We had to learn the musical alphabet:
"Abece, De, E, eF Ghe, no one other is like you,
Ha?, I, Je, Ka Le Me Ne, at reeducation!
O, Pe, Qu, Re, Se, Te, U, you know all of them all by now!
And with Ve, X, Y Greek, Ze, you will make a sensation!
I clapped my hands. -Bravo Mozart!
Perhaps we'll soon have a youth choir able to perform the famous aria of the Jewish slaves from Verdi's opera Nabucco. Or maybe the last part of Victor Hugo's "Les Misables: "Hear how the People Sing!" -Ha, ha, ha! You overestimate me.
My musical education stopped in fifth grade, after I was assigned to play the Anthem of the Republic on my harmonica at the annual school concert.
-Did you playout of tune?
-Yes! And it came out somehow like "Long live the King".
-That's funny! I have some bad news for you, though.
Kneaz Farka? has decreed that given your teaching skills, you will be temporarily appointed as the organizer of the Political Education hour.
-Oh dear! That's not good at all! I learned long ago that no task assigned from above is ever temporary, but it becomes permanent as soon as it is implemented.
At Law School I never went to the political education course. I had a fail grade in Scientific Socialism.
And now, because of this I must study the classics of Marxism-Leninism? I'd rather die!"
-I see that I have to save your life again! I care too much about you to let you die.
Your problem is easy to fix.
-Marius, dear Marius, I know you won't let me embrace you, but can I fall on my knees and kiss your hand?"
-But, what's my hand? The relic of Saint Paraskeva? And besides, if you kneel before me, I'll have to knight you, and I don't have my sword with me!
-Don't make fun of me! Do you really have a solution?
-Think about it! If the major were to receive a notice from the County's Political Committee of the Communist Party, that political education must be organized exclusively by a party member with political schooling, otherwise it's considered to be a subversion of the theory and practice promoted by the highest authorities of the State and Party?
-Then Farca? would have an epiphany just like Pilate of Pont when the Jews shouted to him that he wasn't a friend of Caesar!
-Exactly, Marc! And the funny thing is, the letter would come from the secretary of the Political Executive Committee, whose name is... hold on! Tiberiu Modrogan!
-Please, let me hug you! I need it!
-Marc, stay seated in your bench!
I have enough problems with Ionu?, without being reported that I got tangled up with you too.
-What does Ionu? want from you anyway?
-I can't tell you; or maybe I can, but then I'll have to shoot you afterwards!
Suffice to say, he got me in a bind with Marieta, but in the end everything has turned out well.
-Bravo! Everything is well when it ends well!
-We haven't reached that stage yet, but, by the way, have you seen the newcomer who has arrived the day before yesterday?
-Ah yes! A tough guy from Transylvania. Good-looking and full of himself; a kind of Ion of Glaneta? who doesn't shy away from anything when it comes to achieving his goals.
-Didn't they place him in your former spot at ?urcanu's?
-Yes, and ?urcanu is scared to death that this guy could undermine him to take his cheddar cheese.
You know, his two-bunk room, Farca?'s ear, etcetera.
-That wouldn't be impossible to happen. Usually, you can't escape what you most fear.
-I'd feel sorry for him too. All in all, he's an OK guy.
-Marc, do you know the difference between us and the Japanese?
-Besides the fact that they have slanted eyes and yellow skin?
-No, those are the Chinese, but from the management perspective.
-No idea!
-If someone over there makes a mistake, everyone gathers, and they only ask one question: "How do we fix it?'"
-And the culprit?
-He immediately presents himself bowing down to the ground and apologizing with maximum humility, after which he is separated from the group and isolated in a small, windowless office.
But if someone makes a mistake here, a meeting is called, and what question is asked?
-Who's guilty?
-Exactly, Marc!
All that Ion of Glaneta? must do to reach his goal, is to create a problem for ?urcanu and then stand up during the gathering and ask the question.
-Marius, you are a fountain of wisdom!
-Better of wisdom than of horum harum! Marc's eyes widened. -What?
-You are a teacher of Romanian language, and you don't know the famous line from Eminescu's Second Letter; possibly the most obscure verse in Romanian literature?
-You got me!
-Allow me to re-educate you. It sounds:
"With their gentle quiet murmurs, muted source of horum harum,
Earning in their sluggish manner nervum rerum gerendarum."
-I didn't understand anything!
-That's because you slept during your Latin class.
-Yeah, but who remembers the kind of swamp Latin we were taught at "Iulia Ha?deu" high school!
"In patria nostra multe silvae sunt, que bestiis abundant".
To this day, I have no idea what it means.
-Something about the homeland and its forests.
Only, Eminescu who was studying Latin in Vienna had to listen to his old professors reciting in class the declension of Latin pronouns.
They were declaiming them repeatedly in gentle murmurs, but he was more preoccupied to think about his blonde, mysterious Clotilde, to whom he was writing love notes in his notebooks.
-And how about the nerve... what was it called...?
-Yes, the nerve of all things; the element which puts everything in motion. What would that be?
-Money?
-Excellent, dear Marc. You beat Perpessicius!
-Who's that?
-It doesn't matter, but you will understand everything if you remember what Hamlet tells his friend Horatio in Act I scene 1.
-Hmm! I quote from memory:
"There are more things in heaven and on earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy!" -Bravo, Marc! Within this sentence lies all wisdom!
Just remember that when your understanding doesn't want to accept something as truth, it doesn't mean it's not true; it just means that your understanding has found its limits, and when the limits of your understanding are reached, that's where meaningful thought begins.
-How you're saying those things so well, bibicule, it's really rare for someone!
-Bravos! I'm educating you, and you throw me a line from a Caragiale play!
But speaking of Eminescu, what kind of poems do you like?
-I like short poems.
-How short? Something like 'The Night's Spring' by Lucian Blaga? Or 'Childhood' by Ana Blandiana?
-No, even shorter.
-And do you know any?
-Yes!
"In a forest, in the shade of a linden tree,
All my brothers stretched out, resting.
I'll also go and lie down beside them."
-Hmm, good! But how about an even shorter one?
"The sea is storming in a thousand waves.
So why should I have any cares?"
-Bravo! Did you write the poems?
-Not me, but perhaps Marin Sorescu.
-Beautiful! These poems remind me of a literary genre in English which is called a six-word poem.
-What? Only six words?
-Yes! For example: "I was, and then I wasn't."
Or: "Everything I felt, you never did!"
-That's a good one! I know those tight-lipped English are a bit stingy with their words, but not quite like that!
See? I can make up one of those too:
"Where you go, Sir? (Unde merge?i Dumneavoastr??)
Said the Master Bird." (Zise Pas?rea M?iastr?)
-Ha, ha, ha! Bravissimo! And one of the most beautiful short poems was written by the American poet Robert Lee Frost. It's called 'Snow Dust' and it contains eight short verses.
It succinctly describes a funny incident on a sunny winter morning, when he went out for a walk and a crow landed upon the branch of a hemlock tree above and showered him with powdery snow.
This event changed his mood and saved in part a day he had rued.
A genius poem of only 34 words.
However, in the last century, the English created a humorous poem of five verses called a Limerick, which was very popular during the Victorian era.
Verse 1 rhymes with 2; 3 with 4, and the fifth, which is also the punchline of the poem, with 1 and 2.
-Yes, many poets have written brilliant verses since Shakespeare onwards.
-Correct, but speaking of literature, how does Ionu? get along with your students?
-Super! He has an elephant's memory!
He narrates to them the writings of Ion Creang? as he remembers them.
They didn't quite like the story: "The Foolishness of Man" because some recognized themselves in it.
But when they got to "Legend of Harap Alb" featuring the Red Emperor, the salads in the bear's garden, and the horse that ate the red-hot ashes, Ionu? captivated everyone.
Now they are on to "Memories of Childhood."
They loved him a lot him before that, but now they are crazy about him.
-Bravo! He needs fans to strengthen his self-image. Just keep your magic eye on him and encourage him!



NINE
I saw ?urcanu from afar, at the prison gate, pacing back and forth like a caged lion.
Marc's former boss was a Macedonian from Babadag, short of stature, with a round face and a thick neck. He was a nephew of the Becali clan, the magnates of urd? and kings of cheese and cheddar, shepherds who were tending countless flocks of sheep on the fields, pastures and meadows of the hills of Dobrogea.
He was imprisoned at Coliba?i for speculations with dairy products.
When he saw us, ?urcanu waved discreetly with his hand and entered the guard's kiosk.
The booth, which at that hour was empty, was built in the shape of a cube and was surprisingly spacious. Inside it was a center table and benches affixed along three of its walls. The perfect place for a conspiratorial meeting.
We sat down comfortably face to face, and shook hands.
?urcanu seemed embarrassed to be here and appeared to not know where to start.
To break the ice, Marc asked him:
-How are you, Viorel? How did the inventory count go?
Encouraged, ?urcanu let his voice loose.
-Well, that's just about it, Mr. Marc; it doesn't add up at all!
-How so?
-Regarding the blankets it's somewhat okay, but when it comes to sheets, we are not even close.
When I bring them back from the laundry I'm missing ten. I replaced them with the emergency reserve, and at the next washing, fifteen were missing.
It came up to a fight between the boys who were trying to grab some.
Same story with the towels. When it's time to go bathing, they can't find them.
Because of that there's always scandal brewing up between them. Things like underwear, cigarette packs, books from the library, bars of soap from home and others, keep disappearing without any reason.
-Don't you keep your inventory locked?
-Of course I do, how could I not? I have a lock on the storeroom door, and I only have the keys.
-And the newcomer is always under your watch?
?urcanu looked at us surprised, his rugged Balkanic shepherd's face riddled with amazement.
- Who, Joarz? Ioan?
Marc and I exchanged a significant glance.
- His name's Ioan?
-Yes, why?
-Nothing special. Do you always know where he is?
-Yes! He's with me at all actions. He seems a bit conceited but is very kind and helpful and speaks nicely.
He's always around me, trying to make himself useful.
-Does he get along well with the boys?
-Yes, he spends all his time with them and does all kinds of services for them.
Only from time to time he goes to the kitchen where he has some friends. Also, from Transylvania.
-Do you have their names?
-Yes, one's called Jozsef Barta and the other LzlCsaky.
-Szekely?
-Yes, Barta from Tgu Secuiesc and Csaky from Miercurea Ciuc.
-And why are they here?
-That I don't know, Mr. Marius.
-It seems these three schemers are shearing your fleece, said Marc.
Animated by the idea, ?urcanu ran his hand quickly through his curly hair as if looking for a trace of shearing and not finding one, looked at me worried.
-I beg you to help me, Mr. Marius! I understand I'm being worked on.
-Yes, by someone who wants to take your position. The pretext will be that you are too incompetent to take care of the inventory.
-I did suspect that, but to actually steal from me?
-We don't like thieves either, I said, so we'll do everything we can for you.
-But how could they enter my locked storeroom, closed with a bolt and a lock?
-That's what we need to find out.
-Thank you, Mr. Marius, and know that my family will also take care of you.
-In what sense?
-So that you never lack cheese on the menu!
-Hooray, we've struck gold! said Marc on our way back to the warehouse; our prayers for cheese have been answered.
-So where do you want to start tackling the problem, dear Watson?
-At Mrs. Maria, who needs to open for us the files of those two bozgor. I bet they're professional thieves and equipped with tools for picking locks.
-Or they possess the devil's grass which opens any lock.
-I have a feeling that we'll need the commander's flash camera again. This time, however, we'll have to procure film for it.
-And that has to happen quickly, before Joarz? of the Glaneta? organizes a meeting of the collective.
So, this will be the plan for tomorrow. Until then I want to ask you something.
-Shoot!
-Marc, do you know the difference between capirinia and capoeira?
-I've heard of capirinia. Last July, I was at beach of the Amphitheatre Hotel in Neptun.
The place was crawling with foreigners, and the beach was fenced off, but I sneaked in with the help of a friend from the hotel security, on the condition that I kept my mouth shut and pretended to be French.
I borrowed a beach towel from the box when the valet wasn't looking, and after a few searches, I spread my towel next to an eighteen years old girl from Bordeaux, freckled, with a little pointed nose and cheeky demeanor, who was giving me sweet eyes.
We chatted a bit, and I was just about to start humming for her the well-known international hit 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?' when a waiter came to our place carrying a drink and woke up her dad who was dozing next to us on a sunbed.
Pops took the cocktail glass the bartender was handling him and gulped eagerly out of it, then, suddenly, with a disgusted look on his face, discarded it angrily on the sand and started rattling at the guy in a machine-gun-like French. I only caught the word capirinia.
The bartender rushed to leave and came back apologetically with a bottle of the best Cuban rum, but he couldn't calm him down.
Monsieur Bordeaux was pointing at it with a finger as if it were a murder weapon and shouted:
- Mais ce n'est pas caciasa! Mais ce n'est pas caciasa!'
It was a pity of the good-looking cocktail which had ice cubes and slices of green lemon in it; it must have been delicious.
-Bordeaux was right. Capirinia is Brazil's national drink, made with cacha, which is a strong alcohol distilled from the raw juice of sugarcane, while rum is made from the molasses left over after sugar extraction. They don't have the same taste.
Cacha is combined with fine sugar and juice and slices of green lemon which, is called chaux in French and limoncello in Italian. It's served over ice.
-Yeah, and after he left me thinking about the superb cocktail, he also ruined my romance, because he took his daughter by the hand and left the beach, going back furiously to the hotel.
I threw a long, yearning look after her, but since there was nothing left to do, I applied myself to trying to woo German girls, but since I don't speak German...
-Poor you!
-Thanks for the lesson; and what about the other one? Is it also a drink?
-No. It's a Brazilian martial art called capoeira, pronounced capuera.
It was started by runaway black slaves from the farmers' plantations in Brazil and is based on a ritual dance of Bantu tribes from Angola. It's a method of fighting with bare hands that helped them survive in the unforgiving environment of the Amazon jungle and overcome the authorities sent after them.
Over time, the black fugitives built settlements in the jungle like the settlers of the wild west. They expanded, as other runaway slaves and whites who lived outside the law joined them.
To be accepted in the population at large, those who practiced it in cities and were feared by all, added music and songs to the training, so it would be believed to be a dance.
After the abolition of slavery in 1888, many of the freed men, not having money or homes, moved to the cities.
Using false names and weapons like shaving razors, they organized into criminal gangs, resulting in severe penalties and the prohibition of capoeira in 1890.
It was only in 1932 that the authorities could be convinced of the artistic and cultural value of this sport, and the first school of Capoeira was opened in the city of Salvador.
-What a fascinating country, Brazil! And what good coffee comes from there!
But with all that jungle of hers, it's too wild. Do they speak Spanish?
-No! They speak Portuguese because it was given to them by the Pope of Rome due to a cartographic mistake when he divided the world between Spain and Portugal. Marc was looking at me dumbfounded.
-Yes! In 1493, a year after Columbus's first journey to America, at the request of the Spanish kings Isabella and Fernando, Pope Borgia, who was a Spaniard from Valencia, decreed that the earth was to be parted in two, as if cutting through an apple, along a meridian located at 100 marine leagues west of the Cape Verde islands, i.e. at the halfway point between Africa and the island of Hispaniola in the Caribbean.
After the partition, everything to the east was declared to be Portuguese possession, and everything to the west, Spanish possession.
But the King of Portugal, Joao II did not agree with this division because he wanted to protect their sea route to India along the African coast, and in 1494 requested through the Treaty of Tordesillas, that the partition line be moved to another meridian located further west, at 373 leagues of Cape Verde islands.
In this way he obtained Brazil.
-How's that?
-Look at a map of the Earth!
Northern Brazil juts out into the ocean like a spur and was thus included in the area to the east of the demarcation line.
Pedro vares Cabral was the first Portuguese navigator who arrived in Brazil in 1500 with an armada of 13 ships and found there a population of very hostile Indians.
To tame them, he communicated with them using music and funny gestures.
The name of the country hails from the brazil tree, whose wood was used by the Indians to extract a red dye.
-What gall those Catholics have! said Marc. Not only are they papists, they're also greedy!
What audacity to divide the world between them like an apple! Who's ever heard of that before?
And how is capoeira played?
-It's a combination of dance, music, song, and acrobatics, and it has its own philosophy.
It teaches practitioners how to self-discipline, be confident in their powers, stay fit, and respect themselves.
-Good, and practically?
-It starts with a static position called ginga, pronounced jinga. From the basic position with the feet apart, the left foot steps forward, while the right remains back.
The right arm is raised protectively in front of the face, and immediately the position of the feet changes, stepping back into the basic position, at a distance greater than shoulder width between them.
From this position, the right foot steps forward, while the left remains back, and the left arm is raised to protect the face.
This movement is repeated continuously, like a dance step.
From the basic position starts the kick to the face called meia lua de frente or the frontal half-moon.
The foot rises following an arc toward the opponent's face, and after impact returns to the base position and the fighter resumes his ginga movement.
In the variant called armada, when you are ready to attack, the right foot steps forward and serves as a pivot in a 180-degree rotation that starts from the hips, and at the end of which, the left foot using the momentum created by the turn rises up, hitting the opponent in the face with all its force.
The key to success is to always look at the enemy, constantly calculating the distance and direction in which to apply the kick.
The hands are always up, protecting the face and helping to turn the body with a quick twist. The defensive maneuver is a controlled fall, in which you protect your face with one hand and lower yourself to the ground, supporting your body with the other.
At the same time, you extend your leg and pivot rotating around your axis to return back to the base position.
There are dozens and dozens of stances and 18 ranks for practitioners.
-Fascinating! Would you like to organize a school of capoeira?
-Yes, but only for a few selected individuals.
-It will be great for Ionu? to boost his self-esteem and learn self-discipline!
-Exactly, Marc; are you interested too?
-Do you eat oats, horse? Of course I am!



TEN
Jos Balint was a young man from Cluj, tall, with regular features and a sporty allure, friendly and elegantly dressed.
His ethnic origin was only revealed by his prominent cheekbones.
He was a guest of the state at Coliba?i in our block, because he had injured an important person in a fight at a restaurant, following ethnic insults.
The case had caused a stir in the press, and following political pressure he had been convicted by a judge to a year in prison, in an expedited procedure.
We respected each other.
He was an intellectual, expert in the poetry of Pet?fi Sdor the Hungarian national poet, knew German, spoke perfect Romanian, and liked jokes about Hungarians.
After shaking hands we retreated to the green corner, a small group of trees which was once part of the woods beyond the fence.
We sat comfortably on a fallen tree trunk, and I said:
-Jos, I read somewhere that Pet?fi the poet wasn't killed in 1849 during the battle of Albe?ti, but was captured by the tsar's troops and taken prisoner to Russia.
Wouldn't it be nice if the poems he wrote in Russian captivity were to be found?
Perhaps something genial, like "The Sea Resurrected."
Jos sighed.
- What a great poet was lost to humanity! Even though he's now in heaven, his soul still ails for the Hungarian nation.
But I don't believe this. It would be too marvelous to have happened. In reality, nobody knows where he perished.
He wrote in his poem 'The Plains' that he loved the Hungarian fields more than the Carpathian Mountains. Poor soul didn't get to be buried in the soil of his native pusta as he had wished.
It's sad!
But let's brighten up a little bit! Have you heard any new jokes about Hungarians?"
-Of course! Jancsik goes to the bakery and says: 'Give me two bread loves.
The baker says: 'No, Jancsik, it's said: give me two loaves of bread!'
-Ah, well, then give me two leaves of bread!
-Ha, ha, ha! I have one too!
Gygy is celebrating his wedding anniversary.
Everyone was tipsy and cheerful when Gygy stood up to make a toast.
-My dear ones. Today I celebrate thirty years of living with this wife of my.
Ion shouts from the corner of the table:
-No, Gygy, it's said with mine!'
Gygy scratches his head.
-Well, with yours it's only been for five years!
-Good one! My turn.
Two shepherds were grazing their sheep flocks on a hill, and one says:
-Hey, Gyuri, does your cow smoke?
-Are you crazy, Vasile? How can a cow smoke?
-Then rush back home, because it looks like your barn is on fire!
-Ha, ha, ha! Great jokes, Marius. But pray tell me, what's the trouble?
-Well, it looks like we need a speaker of the noble language of Pet?fi.
-Do you want us to translate something?
-No, I'd like us to translate someone!
-I know that you like to speak in riddles, but this sounds like a sexual trouble.
-I appreciate the fine expression, and I see that you've read Caragiale's play "D'ale Carnavalului", but this would only be a minor linguistic foray. Do you know LzlCsaky, a.k.a Loczy and Jozsef Barta, a.k.a Jika?
Jos looked at me with a disgusted face.
-Yes, Szekely! I don't like them at all. They're low life crooks.
-True! The first one broke into the reformed priest's house in Tgu Secuiesc, and the other robbed the Cultural Center in Miercurea Ciuc. They entered with copied keys or by using lock picking tools.
-Yeah, professional burglars, and now they peel potatoes in the kitchen.
I told him about ?urcanu's dilemma.
-We need to know what they are planning.
They talk among themselves without fear that anyone would understand what they are saying.
When you ask them something, they immediately retort: "Nem tudom rumanom!" (I don't speak Romanian) Can you help us a bit with the linguistic part?"
-Gladly. Any help for a good cause. In the spirit of Pet?fi!
-Thanks. And what's your impression of them?
-Two zealots! At home, they sleep wrapped up in the flag of Greater Hungary.
Csaky didn't steal anything from the cultural center. There was nothing to steal there.
Instead, he made holes in the walls with a chisel and hammer looking for the treasures hidden by his great-grandfather. But he found nothing.
-Great-grandfather?
-Yes, his great-grandfather on his mother's side was Count alfalvi Orb, who was the szolgab that is the city tax gatherer of Csszereda, Miercurea Ciuc in Ciuc County; Cs vmegye.
It's said that he made a colossal fortune by skimming the taxes he collected for the county, but he wasn't stupid enough to bury his gold coins in the walls of the manor when he retreated to Hungary in 1918.
-And Barta?
-He entered the reformed pastor's house on Sunday morning, aiming to steal the only copy of the original Vizsoly Bible, also known as the Koli Bible, which exists in Transylvania.
It's a book of inestimable value, printed in 1589 from the translation made by the Calvinist pastor Gp Koli of the town of Gcz.
It's famous for being the first Bible in the Hungarian language.
The translation was made from the Latin Vulgate and Septuagint versions, and the linguistic analysis shows that at least four people worked on the Old Testament, but the Gospels were translated exclusively by Koli from Latin, using also the original texts available to him in Greek and Hebrew.
The original Bible is preserved in Hungary, in the village of Vizsoly
What Barta didn't know is that the Vizsoly Bible has 2,412 pages, consists of three volumes bound in leather, and weighs more than 8 kilograms.
The most precious is volume one, which contains the 24 books of the Hebrew Old Testament a.k.a. the Tanach and is adorned with the coat of arms and the symbols of the Kingdom of Hungary.
He was rummaging in vain through the pastor's residence when he was caught by the parishioners.
He couldn't find it, because the book was not kept in the house, but in a safe box inside the church, right under the altar.
Anyway, it's so voluminous, he wouldn't have been able to remove it from the house unnoticed.
And after all, what could he have done with it? Sold it at the market?
-Yeah, it seems these two crooks aren't very smart.
-Of course not! And they like to boast too. It won't be very hard to make them talk. I'll find out where they hide their loot.
-Bravo Jos, you're a gem of a guy! And on top of that, a real intellectual.
We'll be able to maintain the status quo without stirring the waters!
As for Ioan al Glaneta?ului, our compatriot, he will find out that intrigue and skullduggery don't always work and can even backfire. We'll have to reeducate him and curb his ambition a bit.
-What do you guys call Joarz??
-I suggest you read Liviu Rebreanu's novel 'Ion'. It will help you better understand his character.
The official opening of our Capoeira School took place in the evening.
After they learned well the ginga, my three students were eager to move on to the semilune kick, but before that I made them repeat the evasion maneuver several times.




Everything went well until Ionu?, who really enjoyed this new game and was impatient, didn't wait for Marc to get into evasion and executed the circular arc striking him with the tip of the foot on the defensive arm.
Marc lost his balance and fell back, landing on his left elbow.
Ionu? rushed to him, panicked that he had killed him, but Marc got quickly up from the floor clutching his elbow and extended a hand in sign of reconciliation.
-That defensive esquive works great!", he said enthusiastically. I think that if I hadn't raised my arm on time, Ionu? would have dislodged my jaw.
I was jolted too by what happened, and for a moment I thought that Marc had dislocated his elbow. Ionu? was also scared, but relieved that everything had ended up well.
I intervened firmly.
-We must keep in mind the lethal potential of this martial art, and each one's safety must be our top priority.
This incident must be a wake-up call for all of us!
Now let's take a break from practice, for the theoretical part!
Let's not forget that in capoeira, flexibility, the quickness of movement, and even deception called 'malicia' are more important than muscular strength.
It's more important to evade with a dodge maneuver than to try to block an attack.
Brazilian capoeiristas are amazing in this regard.
They move side to side within a circle of onlookers, holding blades in their hands and passing within centimeters of each other without causing any harm.
But even without weapons, a strike to the vital areas: head, neck, and celiac plexus - can be fatal.
Both capoeira and karate are martial arts.
However, they are as different as night and day.
Karate, which means 'empty hand', was introduced in Japan by the lower classes who were forbidden to carry weapons.
It stems from a variant of Kung Fu called 'the white crane', which originates in southern China.
The practice is based on ki hon; meaning the basics. It includes stances, hand and foot strikes, and blocks.
Capoeira is more like a dance or a game than a fight.
Capoeiristas gather in a circle called the Roda, and opponents face off in the middle, while those standing around sing and play music using traditional instruments.
These include the Berimbau - a bamboo bow with strings, tambourines, cylindrical drums, small bells, and maracas made from dried pumpkin pods filled with small stones. The music both follows and accentuates the players' movements.
Above all however, capoeira requires a conscious cleverness and the ability to sense danger early and confront it with calm and deception.
The capoeirista is constantly in motion, alternating his ginga stance, so that he is never an immobile, easy target.
The use of evasive movements makes it difficult for the opponent to know when to attack, and the continuous motion with spins and twists puts him in difficulty.
Mobility in movement and alternating attack with defense give capoeira its fluidity and the impression of choreography.
Karate can also be lethal, but in a different way.
It's based more on directed hand and foot strikes and less on foot movement, but it uses the power of the mind, meditation, and self-discipline to concentrate all the force into a decisive blow.
Many matches have been organized between capoeiristas and karatekas, but no one has ever been able to decide whether one is superior to the other.
Personally, I prefer capoeira because it's more athletic and keeps you moving all the time.
I think that's enough for today!
Next time we'll learn other movements. Prepare to sweat!
When I returned from the bathroom, Ionu? was still there where I had left him, in the middle of the room, practicing enthusiastically the fluidity of the ginga movement.
He was forced to give up his practice and go to bed, only when the light was switched off at ten p.m.