I try to go home to Bucharest at least once a year.
Anybody who lives away from their home town will know what a typical visit back home is like: staying with mum and dad and seeing as much as possible of grandma; doing a different friends’ round every day; attending at least one big family gathering around a table full of yummy food ; walking around to take in the ever so familiar yet now transformed places of your childhood.
Not only is it a trip from London to Bucharest, it is also a trip from 2007 to the late 80’s and early 90’s.
Last time I went back was in August 2006. My lovely grandma handed me this small transparent plastic bag containing a red piece of cloth. “I thought you might be pleased to see this” she said. What on earth could it be? I quickly took it out and was hit by a rush of nostalgia. I had discovered my equivalent of Proust’s Madeleine! The object in question was this red scarf we used to wear in primary school. It was a symbol of the former PCR (Romanian Communist Party) and I remember being ever so chuffed when chosen to be what they used to call a “pioneer” (term for young communist).
This particular scarf is from the end of primary school which would explain the emotional hand written messages from long forgotten classmates. I wonder what they all got up to? What are their stories?
This finding prompted me to write a post about life as a child in communist times. Those of you who know me and have heard the stories look away now.
I was born in 1974 when Nicolae Ceausescu’s regime was starting to become increasingly dictatorial. He’d been president for just under 10 years and the obsession with power was getting the better of him. But I was a child growing up in a loving family and never really felt I was missing out on anything at all. Funny thing, human nature: you just adapt to whatever is thrown at you as long as you’re surrounded by love and care.
Rather than unfolding pages and pages of autobiography, I’m going to reveal the 10 things that I feel would help you get a bird’s eye view of what growing up in communism meant. Some of the patterns will not sound unfamiliar to those of you who went to Catholic schools. Just worshipping a different Big Guy.:0)
1) Every day we went to school between the ages of 7 and 14 we had to start the day by singing the national anthem. TREI CULORI CUNOSC PE LUME. We then got on with the classes. And we were blessed with a level of education which I am yet to encounter anywhere in free schools around the world these days. It’s only fair to give credit where it’s due.
2) We were not allowed to communicate with Westerners which would probably explain why I now boast with travels the world over and a considerable network of international friends. You spoke to a foreigner and you were in danger of some infiltrated Securitate plain clothed officer catching you.
3) We would sometimes be summoned to go stand in the city’s big parks for hours on end, so that when Ceausescu passed by our coreographed mass of pupils, we would be asked to clap and cheer. I remember at the time we didn’t see it as exploitation but as a welcome break from normal school routine.
4) We would be entitled to limited amounts of oil, sugar and meat per family per month. Knowing Mr. Costel from one of the state butchers was a great bonus as he would sneak extra chicken out the back door in exchange for a bribe.
5) Most of us studied Russian, which I loved, but many of my colleagues wouldn’t have chosen. I was fortunate in that I later on got a job in Moscow for a good few months and had a ball, making all those hard Russian lessons worthwhile.
6) We had two hours’ TV programmes a day from 8 to 10pm during which we would have the privilege to watch Ceausescu and his wife visiting some heavy industry monster plant; or – if we were lucky – we’d get a North Korean film about young communists and their fight for their utopian views.
7) We were told capitalism was evil yet we all looked to the USA in awe and many of my friends’ parents immigrated in those days in almost life threatening conditions ( on ships, backs of trucks, etc.)
8 ) We saw beautiful churches moved from the front of the street to behind the big tower buildings. They stood for a culture that clashed with Ceausescu’s views of contemporary Romania. Similarly, we saw amazing old buildings brought down to the ground. They were a sign of the past glory of Romanian aristocracy, so they were replaced with grim 10 storey towerblocks instead.
9) We even had our folklore adapted; the vaguest references to old times would be swapped with fresh new ” I like to work in the factory” stock.
10) We were HAPPY. Yes, maybe living in blissful oblivion of what we could have had access to, but as strange as it may sound, I wouldn’t change a thing.
This will put things into perspective. The country’s come a long way and is flying high at the moment. Looking at my shabby red scarf I cannot help smiling at its significance then and now.
If you’re still awake, thank you for reading! :0)
