PressOne Quarterly #7

VOLUME 7

AMERICA’S TRANSYLVANIA MEET THE PEOPLE OF BREVARD

Heritage of Romanian Americans A ROMANIAN-AMERICAN RENAISSANCE IN MINNESOTA

Exile Child SURVIVING STALIN’S KOLKHOZ

CHERISHING ROMANIA

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PressOne Quarterly | Volume 7

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© 2018 / PressOne / All rights reserved June 2018

Welcome Very few people know there is a Transylvania County, North Carolina. Even more remarkable is the story of one of it’s most beloved residents, Constantin Micuda. You will find remarkable similarities between the two Transylvanias!

This month we feature HORA — the Romanian Community in Minnesota. HORA has created two documentaries of Romanian immigration to the US. A Thousand Dollars and Back, covering the early 1990s to World War 2, was released in 2014. Through the Iron Curtain was released in 2017 and covers the Communist period. I highly recommend the movies to Romanian families in North America.

We have two articles this quarter on 90 year-old Romanians that have survived the horrific challenges of 20th century Romania. I never tire of hearing these stories because they belong to everyone of Romanian descent. They speak to the extraordinary resilience of the Romanian spirit.

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Valentin Șchiopu, licensed in Philosophy at the Babes-Bolyai University in Cluj-Napoca, has been a journalist since 2003. Witness to A. Mutu and R. Surdu’s footballing glory years, he worked almost a decade for the Gazeta Sporturilor, the most respected sports newspaper in the country.

MEET OUR JOURNALISTS:

VALENTIN ȘCHIOPU

Press One is the first project that he has helped launch and it provided one of his most memorable trips as a journalist — the opportunity to go to EURO 2016 as the newspaper’s correspondent.

Vali likes to write about unusual people and the ones who dare to say “no” in situations where most of them would look the other way. He also has a gourmet column detailing the most skillful chefs in Romania and the places that are not yet on the culinary map.

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In 2017, Vali was awarded first prize in the national Superscrieri awards, for the story of Gertrud Bader, a young girl that was the unlikely messenger between the anti-Communist prisoners in the Gherla Penitentiary and their loved ones.

CONTENTS 07 / AMERICA’S TRANSYLVANIA Meet the people of Transylvania County, North Carolina.

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21 / HERITAGE OF ROMANIAN AMERICANS The Minnesota community has completed two documentaries on Romanian immigration to the US and much more.

33 / EXILE CHILD The women who survived 6 years in Stalin’s work camp.

47 / ATO AND THE ROMANIANS Japanese Opera singer finds her home in Romania.

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55 / SHAKESPEARE’S LANGUAGE Unsung heroes in Teleorman.

61 / TEN YEARS IN THE EUROPEAN UNION How is Romania doing?

69 / INTELLIGENT FORTRESS Alba Iulia aims to be a “Smart City”.

81 / INTO THE LIGHT 97 year old Emil Drăgan’s final desire for Romania.

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87 / PHOTOGRAPHER OF THE YEAR

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America’s Transylvania VOICU BOJAN

I was born in Cluj, Transylvania. In my early years, I believed that the edge of the world was where my street ended. Later on, I discovered that the world is just a wee bit bigger than I had envisioned, so I started leaping over borders like a grasshopper.

But the day I realized that there’s another Transylvania on this earth, I lost my sense of peace.

So I decided to go look its people straight in the eyes.

America’s Transylvania

TRANSYLVANIA, NORTH CAROLINA (POPULATION 33,211) I collected photos of these Transylvanian Americans as if I were making a family collage. I gathered images of all sorts of people, from students, hairdressers, and skaters to newspaper directors, local council members, funeral home owners, waitresses, secretaries, painters and electricians who had just climbed down from an electrical pole.

Some of them invited me into their homes, others I simply approached and stopped in the middle of the street. It’s not easy for an American to be serious, to stare straight into the camera and refrain from allowing a smile to escape their spirit.

WHAT DOES THE OTHER TRANSYLVANIA LOOK LIKE? This place can be described like a poem or the noble beginning of a short story in prose. It resembles a forest glade, a labyrinth or a footpath.

It’s neither big, nor overwhelming, it’s actually quite intimate and friendly.

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You look through your windshield and see a hill here, a valley there and forest everywhere. It’s home to white squirrels, the symbol of the land.

Nature is its most valuable resource and nature tourism — hiking, mountain biking, and rafting — are responsible for most of the economy.

Everywhere you go, you see houses hidden among trees and nestled between alleys, small white churches on top of hills, and in the market, quiet people who tread carefully, as if the streets were paved with the large, white eggs of an endangered bird species.

Looking in from the outside, it seems as if there’s nothing happening here, but if you come a little closer, you get the sense that everything’s happening here. Because people live here, in the Other Transylvania, and their stories live alongside of them.

Here are five overlapping fates that I elucidated during my peregrinations on a late autumn day.

THE ARCHITECT Constantin (Mike) Micuda, now 90 years old, was originally from Braşov. His life is fit for a Hollywood movie. It has everything — harrowing escapes, romantic escapades, surprising turns, good fortune and above everything else, the fulfillment of the American dream.

I was enchanted by this man from the first moment I laid eyes on him at a dinner party. Dressed in a light gray suit, he was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed and a glass of Chardonnay in his hand.

He was enthusiastically recounting the story of his father’s adventures in Siberia after the Great War. Beyond his fragile body, you could easily catch a glimpse of the charming, worldly man he had been some years back. He retained a noble air about him and the triumphant ease with which he engaged in the discourse, sprinkled with little flashbacks from his youth, was apparent.

An architect by trade, Mr. Micuda was a project director of one of the most revolutionary architectural feats of the 1970s: the famous Pontiac Silverdome Stadium in Detroit. Under his retractable dome (a world premiere), the Pope held a mass for a record audience of over 93,000 people. The Silverdome also hosted Led Zeppelin, the Detroit Lions football team as well as the 1982 Super Bowl.

If I ever make it to 90, I’d also like to have at least 1 percent of Mr. Micuda’s charm.

“You caught on that my name isn’t really Mike. My name is Constantin. But for Americans, who simplify everything, Mike is easier.

I have no idea where my surname originated but I did read that there was an aristocrat of high ranking from Severin by the name of Micud. My father, Vasile, was first a school supervisor, then a photographer and judge. He was an energetic and interesting man, a true role model to me.

When I was little, I enjoyed reading and when I was about 6, I saw ‘Architectura Mater Artium’ on a secession building in Braşov.

My father translated the Latin quotation and that’s when I learned that architecture is the mother of all arts. The idea of becoming an architect when I was older got stuck in my head even though I had no idea what it meant.

Before the war, I went to study in Berlin with three of my friends. When Romania switched sides, we went from being allies to prisoners. But even so, with the short supply of men during that time, the German women loved us unconditionally. What times!

After being in a concentration camp for prisoners of war in Vienna, I went to Rome in 1945. There, together with a group of students, we requested an audience with the Pope. I desperately needed help to finance my studies and I received it.

We spent some time in an abbey which we would often escape from. Besides having a vibrant nightlife, Rome was a feast for a young man like myself who was visually hungry. I was very influenced by classical architecture, Bernini’s sculptures and the balance between space and objects.

One day, out of nowhere, I was overcome by a crazy nostalgia for Romania. At the beginning of the 1980s, I went back to Romania unannounced. When I entered the barn, my mother dropped her basket of apples on the ground.

Years later, when I was thinking about my retirement, I was driving with my wife on the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina, when I saw a sign that said ‘Welcome to Transylvania County.’ I smiled because I immediately knew that this was where I’d be spending the rest of my life. ‘Look, Margie, they’re calling us home. Let’s move there.’

I like it here, it kind of reminds me of Braşov. To help me feel a little closer to home, I commissioned some students who are studying sculpture in Brevard to make a replica of Constantin Brancuşi’s Endless Column ensemble.

Ha ha, even though mine is endless, it’s small, standing only at 3 meters rather than 30. It’s in the garden, let me show you.”

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So I found myself in New York with 8 dollars in my pocket, fluent in German, Italian and French but

I worked with the biggest architectural firms and I gradually made my way to the highest level. Then I climbed down and put my feet back on the ground.

Photo: Voicu Bojan

A priest once asked me if I wanted to move to America. I suddenly remembered a Romanian expression that I hadn’t used in many years: ‘Horse, would you like oats?’.

without knowing a single drop of English. I had one driving principle which I lived by, and it worked: if you’re very good at what you do, you will eventually succeed. And so it was.

FACES OF TRANSYLVANIA

Photo: Voicu Bojan

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THE MAYOR Jimmy Harris is 49 years old, owner of Harris Hardware and mayor of Brevard, the largest town in Transylvania County. Jimmy has been Mayor since 1999, elected in 8 consecutive elections. He has run unopposed in 7 of his 8 elections.

Jimmy reminds me a little of JFK. Jimmy’s strides are a little longer than usual, his tone is slightly louder than the norm and his level of cheerfulness is unusual even for those whose joviality runs deep in their bones. Everywhere he goes, he shakes hands, offers smiles, and makes conversation. He knows everything about everyone.

America’s Transylvania If you want to understand Jimmy, you have to see him work the aisles of his store. With his hair combed back and coffee mug in one hand, Jimmy gesticulates with big motions, pointing towards nails, playing with lanterns, all the while laughing contagiously and chatting with his employees, like Bob, for instance.

Wearing a checkered shirt, sporting a ZZ Top beard, and tape measure suspenders, Bob looks like he walked straight out of a fairy-tale, the fairy-tale being Harris Hardware. It’s a traditional kind of store where if you look closely and examine the nails hammered into the wall, you’ll realize that at one point, they were used to measure rope and chains.

During the local council meetings, Jimmy sits in the middle of the table. The man knows his place. Brevard without Jimmy would be like a town without its main street.

“The number one advantage of having been the mayor of Brevard is that I know where to get the best coffee in town. In winter, there are about 7,000 people here but during the summer the number doubles. Many of them have summer homes and there are a lot of tourists. So it’s not too hard to know everything. So then, let’s go grab a coffee.

Do you see these sculptures? A while back, we decided to encourage local artists so we commissioned them to make the sculptures and we placed them around town. If you don’t make something out of a small town, they can become really sad places.

In the summers, tourists walk around with a brochure in hand and look for the sculptures for the purpose of checking all of them off their list: a squirrel made out of white marble here, a scattering of butterflies made out of sheet metal on a wall, a bronze raven in a green space, an elk in an intersection…

The hardware store? It’s a family-owned store, a tradition. My father is over 80 years old and this store is still his life. My store has everything. Our best-selling item this month has been a telescopic back-scratcher. It has a little hand and a telescopic radio antenna like the ones on cars. If you pull it, it gets longer. You can scratch your back while looking out the window with half-opened eyes and think about how good life is.

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I enjoy listening to the people. I think I would die in a big city. Milk or sugar in your coffee?”

Photo: Voicu Bojan

Harris Ace Hardware is both a store and a confessional. People come to tell me their problems, to divulge their secrets just like to a priest. It’s a pilgrimage spot.

THE PROFESSOR Tom Bertrand was the president of Brevard College.

Now, at 66 years of age, he has a private-practice office specializing in immigration. He lives in a forest, surrounded by many birds.

Tom is of French origin and doesn’t seem to belong anywhere, no matter where he goes. He gives the impression that he’s somber, with a pair of glasses usually on his nose, but in fact, his mind dances on an invisible thread. And his heart — it shelters the ineffable soul of a poet.

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Depending on the context, Tom is either the main character descended from a Prussian novel or a night butterfly settling in for the evening on a balcony railing.

He reads a lot but he often pretends he doesn’t know anything. If you can pierce through the shell, you’ll uncover that he marched from Selma to Montgomery alongside of Martin Luther King Jr. and spent two months in the home of Bishop Desmond Tutu in South Africa. He may even tell you how he became one of the advisors to the Shevardnadze family when he was a professor at a university in the Republic of Georgia.

“I was six years old when my father took me by the hand and introduced me to Martin Luther King Jr. I had the impression that he was a huge, important guy, kind of like a friendly giant.

He stooped down and looked me right in the eyes, as if he were looking at an adult, and told me something I’ll never forget: ‘Son, always try to make a difference’.

But it is not enough to hear an important person to tell you something significant. What matters is convincing yourself of it.

Hey, Bruce, how’s it going? This is a friend of mine from Transylvania, Romania who I’d like you to meet.

Bruce was a Navy Seal and a successful banker from New York. Now, he’s retired in this little corner of the county where he’s trying to quietly change the world.

When he takes a break from making a difference, he’s a long-distance swimmer even though our community pool is only 25 meters long.

You know, this morning I made a secret food mix for the birds using all sorts of flour, olive oil and peanut butter. Sometimes, I sit for an hour at a time and watch how they come and eat. Birds, especially the small ones, are good to look at when you’re alone.

They have a fascinating dynamism.

And you know, I’d also like you to meet Carmen Kelling and her family tomorrow. She and her husband, who is an American, are both doctors here in town. She’s from Romania. I provided legal advice for her mother when she was applying for citizenship.

Oh, and before I forget, there’s a traditional music jam session tomorrow with banjos, violins, Irish inflections and stories at the instrument store called Celestial Mountain. Oh, I was just about to forget, there’s also…”

America’s Transylvania

THE SCULPTOR You can’t just bump into Aaron Alderman. You have to look for him. It’s not easy because he doesn’t have a cell phone. If you try emailing him, he probably won’t respond.

flex, cuts, puts it down, picks up a hammer, then lays it on the table, puts on his glasses, takes them off, looks at the sketch and then back at his work.

He lives in the forest outside of town, close to a lake. There, near to the modest little house where he rests, he has a workshop where you can find almost anything, including a kayak on the wall.

He’s tall, athletic, and mysterious with a piercing gaze. He narrowly resembles the leafy forest that surrounds him. Sometimes, while wearing the different masks, he’s either Darth Vader or Luke Skywalker, but never Yoda. Even though he very well could be — he lives like a wise monk on a planet of his own.

Aaron, 39 years old, is a man of few words. His hands do the talking. He puts on his welding mask then puts it down, puts on another mask, grabs the

Come to think of it, I believe Aaron is the Little Prince. One day, you might even find him building a giant flower out of steel. Or maybe even a fox.

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America’s Transylvania

“I can’t imagine doing anything else. I studied sculpture here in Brevard, I’m passionate about what I build with my hands and I have sold my work in many places.

I like the quiet here, but I like to break through it once in a while with the sound of the flex, of the hammer meeting metal. It’s kind of like an aggressive dance that suddenly brings you into a trance.

I like drawing, look here. Yesterday, I watched some cows in a field, I took pictures of them with a compact camera, and then I started sketching. If you don’t know how to draw an anatomically correct hand or torso using a pencil, your chances of creating a large object out of steel are slim to none.

The work may seem mechanical and somewhat brutal, but in my mind, there are bones, muscles and joints; a living body that moves somewhere in space and time.

They key question is: How do you generate meaning by bending, welding, grinding thin metal bars?

Where do sheer force and emotion intersect? Where does the marriage of these ideas and their resulting forms take place?

How do you become relevant in what you do without falling into something too abstract or elitist? These issues preoccupy me. I have plenty of time to think about them.”

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THE MUSICIAN George Andrews doesn’t live in a normal home, but rather in a kind of experimental laboratory where he is both the mad scientist and the guinea pig. He belongs to the rare species of man-child, those who on the journey of life, have not lost the joy of play and improvisation.

His house is isolated on a forest plateau. To get there, you either have to climb up a huge set of stairs, like on Christian Orthodox pilgrimage, or take the elevator — a kind of electrical popemobile that brings you straight to the terrace.

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America’s Transylvania Behind the house, there’s space that’s like a stage.

Apparently, it’s frequented by foxes, opossums, squirrels, wolves and bears. Seated on a huge hammock, George plays the guitar for all of them. On a pedestal is a bronze raven, his favorite bird as well as the logo of his recording studio: Raven Studio.

When he’s not on tour, he builds things with his bare hands, be it lamps out of old wine bottles, copper torches, or small vases for tiny flowers.

In the midst of this perfectly balanced universe, George fills the wine glasses, slices homemade mixed seed bread into large cubes and pours Kalamata olive oil with rosemary into small dishes.

It’s pouring outside. The mist rises and gradually swallows up the forest. Small birds peep inside through the glass windows. The light dims. And all of a sudden, everything is exactly as it should be.

“For a boy, 12 years of age is an in-between age. He’s not small but he’s also not big. If he’s mentally ready and has his hands wide open, he might receive the most precious of gifts. That’s when I got a guitar. I was damn lucky.

After a week, I knew that there was nothing else I’d rather do in this life. I believe that I’m a blessed man.

I’m going to play Chopin Prelude Op. 28 No. 7 in A major now.

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More recently, I’ve gotten to enjoy staying in one place and cultivating simple joys. I befriended nature, birds and silence. I have a new perspective on things.

I was never passionate about extreme sports but now I’ve discovered zip-lining and I’m addicted to it. It’s unbelievable how much I like it.

My son thinks I’ve gone a little mad. Sometimes, we go together: I was secretly hoping that they would give me one free ride after I paid for ten, but no.

Here, let me play something else for you: Andante in D Major by Julio Sagreras. This piece really goes well with the sound of the rain, doesn’t it?

As I was saying, now, at 80 years old, I understand things differently. I realized that I prefer the silence between notes more so than the music itself. The empty space, the interlude between the notes, is the one that fills you with meaning.

I have this maniacal preoccupation with creating this void as accurately as possible, so as to honor each and every single sound. I know, it’s complicated, but I find it so beautiful.

I’ll play you something more cheerful now: Torna a Surriento, a popular Italian song that is well-suited for this wine. Cheers!”

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Heritage of Romanian Americans ARRIA GIULAN

The Minnesota community has completed two documentaries on Romanian immigration to the US and much more.

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Romanian Christmas Traditions, American Swedish Institute, Minneapolis, December 2017.

Heritage of Romanian Americans

Ciprian Porumbescu choir of Minnesota.

Just as Nicolae Iorga said, “A nation that does not know its history is like a child who does not know its parents”. The Heritage Organization of Romanian Americans in Minnesota, HORA, has been at work filling a gap of documenting Romanian immigration to the United States from the early 1900s to the present day.

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Barely ten years old, HORA has created a number of diverse and high-profile events, as well as a series of videos, movies and CDs, that bring together all generations to nurture the Romanian spirit, cultures and values.

One of the local newspapers recently wrote, “We are experiencing a revival of the RomanianAmerican community in Minnesota, a Renaissance with wide-reaching impact.”

a guest nation, in ASI’s highly praised Christmas Exhibit and Festival. HORA worked with collectors of popular art from our community to create a remarkable display of Romanian Christmas traditions.

Using handmade popular costumes, pottery, rugs, bedspreads and icons — HORA illustrated three winter traditions.

The Christmas Feast — Masa de Craciun — with the traditional sarmale (cabbage rolls), racituri (aspic), muraturi (pickles), mezeluri (cold cuts), mamaliga (polenta), cozonac (sweet bread) and of course, tuica (hard liquor); The Spinning Bee — Sezatoarea, The Christmas Carolers — Colindatorii.

Traditional Christmas gatherings continue to attract a growing number of families. Last year was a very special one for us and for the community, as it was marked by two premieres.

Following our cooperation with the American Swedish Institute (ASI) on their “Migration, Identity and Belonging” program — HORA had the honor of being invited to represent Romania, as

Colleen studies the art and life of the musicians from Pălatca, Transylvania: Laurențiu Codoba (and wife Veronica), Ion Boldi, Mihai Radac, and Florin Codoba.

Each scene focused on a different region of our country, giving us the opportunity to highlight the beautiful diversity of color and style. Costumes from the Fagaras-Sibiu, Bucovina and Muntenia were on display. Some of the items were over 200 years old.

With soothing Christmas music and video clips of our beautiful country running at our display, as well as volunteer guides sharing pieces of history, over 30,000 visitors learned about Romania. The feedback was fabulous. It was the highest impact event we ever held for the broader Minnesota community.

The second premiere was the Romanian Colinde Project, made possible by a grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board.

The Romanian Colinde Project was led by Colleen Bertsch. Colleen, a professional violinist, first traveled to Romania in 2008 where she met “string players whose skill far surpassed my own and I fell in love with the traditions and sincerity of the people I met.” The trip to Romania inspired Colleen to earn a Ph.D. in ethnomusicology at the University of Minnesota. Her dissertation is titled “Transylvanian Folk Violinists and their Correspondence of Embodied Musical Techniques and Identity Performance.” Over the years, Colleen has received many grants to travel to Transylvania to record with local musicians. In 2015-16, she received a Fulbright grant to live in Cluj and study at Babes Boylai University.

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Colleen calls the Romanian Colinde Project “the project I am most proud of”. Her Balkan music band Orkestar Bez Ime partnered with the Ciprian Porumbescu Choir of Minnesota, made up of Romanian business and industry professionals in Minneapolis-St. Paul, to record an album titled Ca Noi Nu Colindă Nime’: Romanian Christmas Carols. She says “Romanians in the homeland will recognize the lyrics and melodies set in distinctly new imaginative settings.” The CD was a big hit with the Romanian community.

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A long and vital tradition in Romania and Romanian diasporas, singing colinde is a centuries-old caroling tradition that is listed on UNESCO’s World Heritage list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

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Heritage of Romanian Americans

HORA Gala Community Service Award, 2016. John Omorean, Don LaCourse, Gina Popa (left to right).

The previous year HORA enjoyed the collaboration with Katrina Mundinger, a clarinet instructor at the MacPhail Center for Music and performer of many styles of music. Through an art grant, Katrina was able to acquire and learn to play taragot. Her performance, called Sambra Oilor, a Romanian party brought an authentic performance and a truly unforgettable night to the Twin Cities.

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No Romanian party in Minnesota is complete without the dancing of John Omorean and Don LaCourse. They have led ethnic dance assembles for over 40 years with the mission to foster understanding and awareness of world cultures through the re-creation of dance and music.

The collaboration between HORA and our local artists is not only re-creating a piece of the Romanian cultural fabric in Minnesota, but is building new bridges with the Minnesotan culture and people.

ROMANIAN-AMERICAN AWARDS Six years ago, HORA initiated the RomanianAmerican Dream Awards Gala to acknowledge

the extraordinary contributions of Americans to the Romanian communities in both Minnesota and Romania. The event raises funds for youth scholarships in the community.

In 2012, Monica O’Kane’s posthumous nomination demonstrated the quintessential nature of the award: high impact, direct personal involvement, long commitment, dedication and an incredible spirit to unify people and organizations in support of the cause.

In 2000, Monica O’Kane first learned of the tragic lives of the Romanian street children. She immediately began soliciting donations of clothing and money to assist the children living in the underground sewers of Bucharest. Over the years, Monica made dozens of trips to Romania, where she climbed down the ladders into the sewers to care for the children. With support from St. Matthew’s Parish, Monica raised over $20,000 and the work she started is continued by her family and her friends at St. Matthew’s church in St. Paul, Minnesota. The Romanian Community Service Award was named after her.

Romanian language class, St. Paul, Minnesota.

Don Shelby is another dear member of the Romanian-American community in Minnesota. For over 30 years, Don anchored the evening news on WCCO. He has won two Peabody awards and an Emmy Award. Don likes to tell people, “I know that I’m a better human being as a result of having spent lots of time with Romanian people.”

impact on the Romanian orphans. Between 1990 and 2004, Americans adopted more than 8,000 children from Romania, thanks to Don, 1,000 of the Romanian orphans were adopted in Minnesota.

Don still works closely with Lucia Anderson, someone who he admires for her tireless efforts in helping adoptees still in need of support and unconditional love, almost three decades later.

DOR Romanian culture is deeply rooted in language.

Words such as dor can closely be translated, but never fully comprehended without understanding its profound meaning of longing for the past. Early on, when looking at the needs of the Romanian community, it became very clear to HORA that bringing Romanian language classes to the community was a real need.

Don Shelby speaking at the first HORA gala.

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Of all the stories he has followed over his career, Don points to one that stands out above the rest.

In 1990, Don traveled to Romania and documented the stories of the innocent orphans abandoned by the communist regime. The Iron Crib, the documentary he helped create on CBS, had massive

In 2013, HORA received a grant to start the Romanian Language program in the Twin Cities.

This allowed foundation to launch six Romanian language classes, attracting students ranging from Romanian adoptees to missionaries to grandchildren of Minnesota’s original immigrants who settled in the St. Paul area. The response was extraordinary, with 140 students immediately registering, above and beyond the original estimate of 50.

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The program continues to fill many diverse needs with classes structured based on age, level of proficiency and interests. If you stop by the one of the Romanian churches in St. Paul on Friday evening, you can easily strike up a conversation with the adult language class students. Some of the students, 3rd or 4th generation Romanians, might impress you with their language skills and drive to learn more. Less anticipated, yet very emotionally moving, are their life-long dreams of travelling to Romania, in search of their roots and identity.

FINDING OUR ROOTS The Romanian Genealogy Society is HORA’s sister organization founded in 2011 to help with family history research and to foster a better understanding of Romanian history.

Over the years, the collaboration between HORA and the RGS has proven instrumental in building multi-generational bridges in our community. The most important project from the collaboration is the creation of the first Romanian Immigration documentary, A Thousand Dollars and Back — Recollections of Early Romanian Immigration to Minnesota. (romanianimmigration.wordpress.com) Premiering in September 2014, the Emmy award nominated documentary is based on ten oral history interviews conducted in 2013.

Through excerpts of interviews with children and grandchildren of the early immigrants, the film tells personal stories of Romanian immigration to Minnesota from the early 1900s until the advent of World War II.

Heritage of Romanian Americans In those years, most Romanian immigrants to Minnesota came from Banat and Transylvania, regions which were part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Many settled in industrial areas of the Midwest and followed connections with friends and family, before making permanent homes in the St. Paul area. Extended families lived close to each other around the Rice Street area and in South St. Paul, while a large Romanian Jewish community settled on the outskirts of Minneapolis.

Many Romanians worked in the meat packing factories (Armour or Swift) and railroads.

Even though the Romanians came with the goal of saving $1,000 and returning home to buy land, most never made the trip back to Romania. They established a tight, vibrant community in St. Paul and built two Romanian Orthodox Churches. St. Mary’s was built in 1913 and St. Stefan’s in 1924. They remain quintessential in the preservation of our culture and heritage over the last century.

Building a Proud Legacy Together, 2016 HORA Gala Benefit.

In October 2017, HORA released the second immigration documentary, Through the Iron Curtain — From Romania (www.throughtheironcurtain.com). It provides a look inside Communist Romania accompanied by the first-hand descriptions from immigrants of that era. Produced in partnership with Twin Cities Public Broadcasting Service ( PBS) and with funding from both HORA and the State of Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund, this film represents the most arduous collaboration within our community. The movie benefited from the collaboration with Romanian architect Andrei Pandele, who’s images captured in communist Romania are worth thousands of words.

As a historian, Nick Hayes, observes in the documentary that: “The government would say that mistakes were made, but these weren’t mistakes — they were crimes, crimes against humanity.” The few who were able to escape, came at a great personal risk.

The opening night event was hosted by the American Swedish Institute, as part of their programming theme of “Migration, Identity and Belonging.” The debut brought together over 250 attendees along with a series of distinguished guests, representing the Romanian Embassy in Washington D.C. Romanian Consulate in Chicago and Alianta’s Board of Directors.

Documentary Opening Night, 2017. Daniela Petrescu, Gina Popa — Hora board (left to right).

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In recognition of the extraordinary support received from the State of Minnesota in helping the Romanian-American community document and preserve its history, HORA awarded U.S. Senator Amy Klobuchar the Friends of Romania Award at the event. Minnesota Historical Society Director & CEO D. Stephen Elliott and Bruce Karstadt, President and CEO of the American Swedish Institute were also recognized at the event.

Heritage of Romanian Americans

HORA IS ABOUT BUILDING COMMUNITY While the early Romanian immigrants used brick-and-mortar to build two churches to preserve the culture and heritage, our community today has come together in creating digital records to preserve our history for generations to come.

Ultimately, as Stephen Elliot remarked, “This work has meaning and value that transcends our community boundaries. In today’s divided world, understanding history can build bridges — bridges to better conversations, to deeper insights and to stronger communities.

Minnesota Legacy funding has helped to create partnerships that have a wide-reaching impact. Together, we are building stronger communities”.

NOTE

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HORA — The Heritage Organization of Romanian Americans in Minnesota is a non-profit organization registered in the state of Minnesota. (www.hora-mn.org)

Arria Giulan, HORA Board.

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Panel discussion, moderated by Don Shelby, following viewing of Through the Iron Curtain, from Romania documentary.

Alexandra Dubău’s parents, Domnica and Filip Șlemcu, two Romanians from Bucovina whose country was pulled out from under their feet.

Photographer: Viorel Ilişoi

Exile Child VIOREL ILIĹžOI

On June 28, 1940, the Soviet Army occupied Bessarabia and northern Bucovina, home to nearly 4 million Romanians. Over the next year, 90,000 Romanians were arrested or deported to Siberian work camps. Included in this statistic was 13 year-old Alexandra Dubău and her mother, Domnica. The mother and daughter managed to survive 6 chilling years in a Soviet Kolkhoz.

Alexandra Dubău, gazing into a painful past without any anger.

When Alexandra Dubău looks back at her life, the cold and hunger she withstood in Siberia seem to pursue her. She escaped from Siberia, but Siberia never escaped her.

which had been her refuge for years. Her daughter, granddaughters and her great-grandchild all live in Germany. They only visit for Easter and Christmas.

She softly folds her hands in her lap and with a sense of resignation, says: “That’s what the world was like then. This is what the world is like now. We’re only human after all.”

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I ask her what “only human” means. Are we that helpless? Are we supt vremi (a victim of our history)? However, she’s not in the mood to be philosophical — she has to feed her pigs and hens.

She wakes up at five o’clock and begins the hard work of maintaining her home and farm. She takes out the garbage daily and sweeps out the pigsty, not succumbing to her severe back pain. From time to time, she bends down to pluck a small sliver of dry grass from the ground or a miniscule piece of garbage that the broom doesn’t manage to sweep up.

She doesn’t rest for a moment. Only in the evening does she finally take a seat in her wooden kitchen,

Alexandra’s work day begins at 5 am.

Exile Child

SUFFERING Last summer, Alexandra hosted me in her home because I had some work to do in the north of the country. I visit her once in a while to inquire about her health.

“I’m fine”, she often replies.

“What should I bring you?” I ask.

“A kind word, that’s enough.” she says.

Alexandra is not an exceptionally talkative person.

She says a lot through the raising of a brow or the length of a sigh. When Siberia is mentioned, she quiets, peers directly into your eyes with a gaze that is as clear as water, you can see the depth of her suffering.

“Only human”, she says in the afternoon, responding to this morning’s question, “means how God made you and also how you want to be. As a human, we cannot rise

up above this world, which is how it is. You have to know your place and endure.

It means not to rejoice in someone else’s misfortune and to be willing to take food from your own mouth in order to feed someone who is worthy.”

She stands up and begins to throw firewood on the iron stove. I watch her chopping potato skins - half of them for her and the other half for her pigs. She can’t peel them because of swollen joints from the Siberian cold. She can’t even make herself a pot of polenta.

I look at her crooked fingers and how she’s grasping a slice of bread in them. It’s as if she’s afraid someone will grab it out of her hands.

A cold and sticky darkness descends upon Mihăileni, a village from Botoșani that is adjacent to Ukrainian border. You can hear the dogs from over there and see the village lights across the border in Tereblecea, Alexandra’s home village. This is where her suffering began.

Photos: Viorel Ilişoi 35

Tireless at 90 years of age

A grassy heap of clay was what remained of the Șlemcu family home in Tereblecea.

TEREBLECEA — JUNE 1941

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“I was hiding with my mom behind the door, may God have mercy on her. We were waiting. We knew they’d get us and make us go. The broke into our home and took us with only what we had on and a little sack that we had managed to pack up. And a loaf of bread because my mom had baked bread that day…

We got into the wagon, all piled up on top of other people, and they brought us to the train station.”

In the early morning of June 13, 1941, 279 citizens of Tereblecea were snatched from their homes.

More than half of these people died of cold and hunger within the first six months. Only 60 returned home after many years in exile.

“They brought us to the train station, stuffed us into the wagons they used to transport cattle, the one made out of

wooden boards. There was straw on the floor. And a little window with bars that allowed a whisper of fresh air to breathe.

There was a hole in the corner where we could relieve ourselves. I was crying and my mom, poor thing, folded me into her arms and tried to soothe me by murmuring in my ear.

I remember the cries of the people in the train station, they were yelling after their loved ones who had boarded the train.

There were soldiers with guns who formed a barrier, keeping them away from us.

You could hear: Moooooooom…..

Daaaaaaaad…..oh man!….my God! I also started screaming when they took mom from me. They brought her to Chernivtsi for an investigation. I know they beat her to find out where dad was. But she didn’t know anything.”

Exile Child

The train station in Chernivtsi, where the Siberia-bound trains full of deportees set out.

The Russians put Alexandra’s mother back on the train in the Chernivtsi station. Her face had been beaten to a pulp. The train travelled for two weeks.

When it finally stopped and the people of Tereblecea disembarked, taking their dead with them.

Alexandrea remembers her first image of Siberia.

As far as the eyes could see, there was only rock.

The darkness swallowed them up. Alexandra was taken to the Voroșilov Kolkhoz in Kazakhstan — a large farming collective.

Mom made me some clothes out of burlap sacks. That’s how I dressed myself for six years. They brought mom to work in a different place every day. She would scatter absinth seeds on the ground so I could find her. I would follow the trail of seeds and get there when they were feeding the workers from the big cauldron. Some boiled grains.

Mom would share her little handful of food with me so that I wouldn’t die of hunger.

There was nothing else to eat.

THE KOLHHOZ

A chart with the Romanians who were deported from Tereblecea. (from the book “Tereblecea, a Village on the Fringes of the Country” by Ion Creţu)

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But when winter came, the bitter cold chilled us down to our bones. The only shelter was to dig deeper into the pit and cover yourself with a makeshift roof.

Photos: Viorel Ilişoi

“When we got there, we divided up into pits, instead of houses. It was a huge pit, covered with garbage, and that’s where we lived with a number of families. There was a large stove in the middle of the pit. They made us work the very next day. It was summer and we were still able to survive the weather with the clothes on our backs.

Exile Child

In the summer, we would go sneak out in the night and catch little field mice for us to eat.

I would pour water into their holes to force them out and then hit them over the head.

The starvation caused my hair to fall out. It was a kind of hunger that went beyond my stomach. It got into my head and I’m afraid it never left. There is no better way of making a mockery of someone than by starving her. Because she’s no longer human, she becomes an animal.”

Alexandra and her Mom spent six years in Voroșilov, Kazakhstan. To this day, she still doesn’t know why.

“If you could meet Stalin now, what would you do to him?”

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“What could I do to him? I’ll let God deal with him. It’s not up to me to bring justice on earth”

After the hunger she endured in Siberia, the grandmother developed a great sense of respect for food.

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The border between Romania and Ukraine, splitting Bucovina in half.

THE JOURNEY HOME The prisoners in the Kazakh desert had no idea the war ended. After six years of slavery, a rumor started that there were no longer guards to stop them from leaving.

At the time, Domnica and Alexandra Șlemcu were loading wagons in the train station. They managed to steal enough grain to pay a former criminal from Bucovina to guide them home.

“I think he took pity on us, seeing that we were two women, alone among strangers.

Thanks to him we made it home.

On the day we were supposed to leave on a freight train, the Russians separated mom and I. I went to look for her but I couldn’t find her. After that, I got on a wheat train headed to Ukraine.

I endured anything to get home.”

In exchange, he gave her a clean nightgown and sent her to bed. When she awoke, the white linen nightgown she was wearing was black, crawling with lice. They had made their way out of her flesh where they had incubated and were now bustling about.

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From Chernivtsi, Alexandra took off towards Tereblecea. When she arrived at the home of her

uncle, he washed her like a child. He took off her burlap sack dress, placed it on a barrel in the yard and beat it with a hammer to kill all the lice.

Photos: Viorel Ilişoi

On the last three days of the trip, right before getting to Chernivtsi, the former criminal hid me in a pipe on a military train. Funny that a former criminal would be my guardian angel. That’s where I hid without food or water for 3 days.

Exile Child

NEW LIFE IN ROMANIA Alexandra found her mom back in their old home.

She had arrived two weeks before Alexandra. They tried to stay hidden, fearful they would be brought back to Siberia. Although Alexandra did manage to meet Ion Dubău, her future husband, at a hora (circle dance) in the village.

Filip Șlemcu, her father, was on the other side of the border in Romania. He had gathered money to pay a guide to sneak his family out of Ukraine.

“On the 1st of May, 1947, together with Mother and Ion, I had escaped from Tereblecea to seek refuge in Romania.

On the border, there were trees that had been chopped down. We crawled on our stomachs under the tree trunks, dragging ourselves like snakes. The border officials walked right by us but didn’t notice us there. God even kept the dogs from picking up our scent.”

“You know what I missed more than anything else while I was in Siberia? Our apple orchard. It was as if nothing else on this earth existed and I wanted to get home just for the orchard.”

Her nostalgia led her to plant a beautiful orchard in Mihăileni. It is a labor of love for her to clean, spray and harvest.

She even guards it. One night, at about two o’clock, she heard noise coming from the orchard. She stepped out with a baton.

“Six thieves were in the trees. They were stealing cherries. But when I started waving my baton at them, they took off running.”

“Alexandra, you put yourself up against six thieves?”

“And so what? I have had to deal with much worse.”

Alexandra’s father was still frightened by the Russian presence, so the family journeyed to a village in Banat.

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“In Transylvania we worked as servants for Romanians. We did all sorts of work.

Our only pay was food. They would give us something to eat so that we wouldn’t faint. We lived like this, with no official documents, no house, but we were grateful that the Russians weren’t coming to arrest us and bring us back.

It was only after I had turned 27 that Dad went to Dorohoi and got my official Romanian papers. That’s when I was able to marry Ion Dubău, with legitimate papers.”

From Banat, Alexandra’s family slowly began making their way back home towards Tereblecea.

Mihăileni is as close as they could get, just a few kilometers away. So that is where she made her home.

Tireless at 90 years of age.

Ato and the Romanians VALENTIN ȘCHIOPU

“Do you know the saddest moment in every one of my discussions with Romanians? It’s when young people ask me why I came to this country and then proceed to tell me how horrible it is here.

I often put myself in your shoes and ask myself what it would be like to talk about my own country in this way. Sad, truly sad. It would mean that I don’t have respect for my home, for my family.

Romanians should not feel inadequate in any way. Look in the field I work in — opera. Romania has heaps of talent.”

Ato Sumi is a 33-year-old Japanese soprano and a permanent collaborator of the Romanian National Opera.

She recently won first place at the Romantic music competition in Baia Mare An Autumn Story where she interpreted the song The Little Shepherd with 300 Sheep.

Ato speaks Romanian with a regional Transylvanian accent and she emphasizes moments of surprise with interjections borrowed from Hungarian: oioioioioi!

Ato Sumi, standing next to ballerina Chiharu Yamamoto, who works at the Cluj Opera.

Ato and the Romanians

Ato Sumi, standing next to ballerina Chiharu Yamamoto, who works at the Cluj Opera.

FROM KYOTO TO CLUJ Ato took piano and clarinet lessons and began singing in the choir of her native city, Kyoto, at the age of 6. In Japan, it’s mandatory to take part in the orchestra or choir in the public school system. In high school, she began specialty studies in music.

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But her musical options in Japan were limited after high school. The university tuition was too expensive for her family and there was tremendous competition to get into the only state-run Opera House. Of the over 200 colleagues who began their specialty studies at the same time as Ato, not a single one of them makes music anymore.

in La Traviata. The BBC covered Gheorghiu’s performance live from the Covent Garden Opera House. Ato recalls:

“Mrs. Angela Gheorghiu looked like she had stepped right out of a painting. Young, beautiful and energetic. She was a real diva with an incredible technical ability and attitude.”

At the age of 19, Ato said goodbye to the cherry blossoms of Kyoto and boarded the plane for the opera scene of post-Communist Europe.

Ato told her friends that she would go to ‘the ends of the earth’ to make music. In a way, she did just that in 2002 when she moved in Romania to continue her studies at the Gheorghe Dima Academy of Music in Cluj.

To the wide-eyed young lady from Kyoto, Romania was not a crazy place to go. It was the home of Angela Gheorghiu who leaped onto the world stage in 1994 for her role as Violetta Valery

Angela Gheorghiu. Photo: Facebook

Ato and the Romanians

FIRST IMPRESSIONS After a connection in Paris, Ato landed in Budapest.

Then she hopped on the train to Cluj. The train broke down in the middle of Hungarian farmland covered in snow. Ato watched in horror as agitated, vociferous passengers were marched off the train through snow drifts to a bus that drove them to the next station.

Ato went through a difficult transition after she arrived in Romania. It took three years to get settled and to stop being affected by the fact that people treated her unfairly.

“At that time, there weren’t many Asians

in Romania so I received weird stares all the time. That’s when people threw eggs at me. It really happened, right in the middle of Cluj. I looked upon this incident without any resentment, as an isolated event.

Everything was grey back then, 12-13 years ago. I had the feeling that the only place I could see color was in your flag.

I didn’t know what communism meant, but I sensed that Romania still maintained the atmosphere of the old regime. That it had entered in peoples’ physiognomy.

I remember visiting Paris during that time and burst into tears on the Champs-Élysées.”

SETTLING IN Ato studied for six years at the music academy in Cluj — four years plus two years for her Master’s.

She’s certain that she was a part of the golden generation in the Transylvanian Conservatory.

And then Adela Zaharia, another classmate, won in 2017. It’s the equivalent of an Olympic gold medal in sports. I then wondered: what am I doing in this field?

Because I’m not as talented as they are.

Come on, don’t you know…There are Romanians in every single huge theatre in the world. Metropolitan, Vienna, Berlin, Rome. You are at the top in this domain. I’m not at all exaggerating.

And this irritates me that you have no idea what you have. It’s hard for a foreigner from Asia who wasn’t raised in European culture to penetrate this world.

In Japan, there’s only one state-run opera house and you know how big the population is there. Here in Cluj you have two opera houses and the cheapest ticket is around 2 euros. Mamma mia, only two euros to see a show.

After a difficult start, I have to say that Romania’s evolution has been fantastic in the past years. I am very happy for Romanians. You can travel easily and you can make use of the fact that you learn foreign languages so easily.

There’s a Japanese department in the Cluj University and you almost sound like us, with a really good pronunciation. I don’t know how you manage to do it so well.

You all have a good ear, I think you’re all inherently musicians.”

Photo: Raul Ștef

She was a classmate of the tenor Ștefan Pop who won Operalia in 2010, a competition that Plácido Domingo has organized for young opera singers since 1993.

“Imagine, I had just come from Japan and was immediately presented with the meaning of native talent. Ștefan was sensational, a genius, it was evident even in his first year. I think he was the youngest singer to have won the Operalia competition.

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Ato and the Romanians

FINDING HER PLACE Ato’s vocal technique places her in the soprano lirico-leggero category. She could be Adina in Elixir of Love by Donizetti, or Susanna in Figaro’s Wedding. Ato covets the role of Liù the slave from Turandot.

But competition is fierce, and the “waiting room” at the lyricleggero register is the busiest. She says her biggest problem is that she is so tiny. What do you do when you’re only 4’11” and you have to sing alongside of people who literally take over the stage?

Ato adores every moment on stage. Performing in the Opera choir feels to her as “the most elevated artistic form” and that her performance is as important as Angela Gheorghiu.

The Japanese “spirit” doesn’t lend to a career as a soloist.

The culture of respect for others causes the spotlight to be distributed evenly, from the soloists to the chorus, and from ballet to make-up. The Japanese do not end with the fat lady singing, the expression that has dominated stereotypes in the world of opera.

In Romania, the chorus is seen as a kind of exile for the unfortunate who have not succeeded on their own.

“I’m not going to cry if I become a choir member.

Doing something together is a little harder for Romanians. When Japanese set their minds to doing something together, the result can be incredible. But for a Japanese soloist to appear, well that’s more uncomfortable because we’re too modest, too closed off, too... I don’t know what.

Opera is the greatest art form in the world and we do it together. Every production requires over one hundred people working together. We have to be unified.”

Photo: Raul Ștef 51

Music video by Angela Gheorghiu, Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, Sir Georg Solti performing “Sempre libera”. (C) 1995 Decca Music Group Limited

Ato and the Romanians

ROMANIA IS NOW HOME Ato hasn’t seen cherry blossoms since she left home 13 years ago. The cherry blossom celebrations are in April and she only returns to Kyoto once a year, usually during the summer.

She knows she will never be able to put down roots in the Land of the Rising Sun.

“This is such a sad thing for me and I’m afraid I won’t do a good job explaining it.

My work here is very special. I put all my heart, all my passion into my work. Some of my colleagues say — let it be dear, don’t get frustrated, even if you get angry, nothing will change.

But things are changing. It is worth the struggle to help people see their potential.

For this privilege, I am willing to give up the cherry trees blossoming in Kyoto.”

Shakespeare’s Language VALENTIN ȘCHIOPU

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Unsung heroes in Teleorman.

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Shakespeare’s Language Eliza Neag is an eleventh grade student at the National High School Alexandru Ioan Cuza in Alexandria and winner of the National English and Religion Olympiad.

Every weekend, she commutes back to her childhood village to teach “Shakespeare’s language” to the children in the social assistance programs run by the two brothers, Bogdan and Florin Danu.

Both Bogdan and Florin are priests with parishes located about 50 kilometers north of Alexandria, in the region of Teleorman.

On Saturdays, between 11:00 am and 12:30 pm, Eliza teaches children from Negrenii de Sus before hopping on her bike and heading to Lada for another round of classes.

BEGINNINGS In 2012, a priest named Florin Danu, founded the Heavenly Hand Association to build a soup kitchen for children in the village of Lada. The kitchen feeds 40 children each day of the week and over a hundred on the weekend.

The majority of the children come from families that depend on social assistance. Danu ensures that each child stays in school through 8th grade. He also raises money to pay for their transportation to high schools in Alexandria or Oltenia.

His brother, also a priest, applied the same recipe in Negrenii de Sus, a neighboring village.

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Denisa Bularda, a school teacher from Bucharest, became a donor after following Father Florin on Facebook as the soup kitchen was being built.

Denisa was so inspired, she sent Florin a message:

“I could help you offer them classes. You feed them a hot meal and I offer them some education. Of course, food addresses their basic needs but you can’t feed a community forever. At some point, you’ll have to set them free and let them soar. You have to educate them so that they can eventually take their community into their own hands.”

“You know, we’re very far from Bucharest.

How are you going to manage the commute?” Was the priest’s response.

In 2016, after consulting with her family, she began commuting to the villages in her Daewoo Matiz.

Denisa was often on the road 5 hours per day, not including the two hours dedicated to teaching.

During the winter, her visits were less frequent due to the road conditions.

She began conjugating the verbs “to have” and “to be” in a community where no one knew the difference between “to be” or “not to be.” She had hopes that teachers from the nearby primary schools or high schools would soon take over.

It didn’t happen immediately.

As she taught English, Denisa Burlada also discovered the need to teach Romanian.

Eliza Neag, during a class at Lada’s social center.

“I realized there were problems when they had to translate from English to Romanian. We noted serious grammar mistakes, even on the exams written by children who were testing for the General Certificate of Secondary Education. In English, they would write everything the way it sounded and they would do the exact same thing in Romania.”

The children were motivated to learn English, so she organized small groups based on proximity to one another so that the children could work together during the week in each other’s homes.

“Eliza came to observe one of my classes and then she took over the English classes.

She got along splendidly, I didn’t realize what a strong will she had. She also took it upon herself to teach in the neighboring village as well.”

Her first English class last summer had 12 students in her class, now her classroom is completely full.

The young volunteer teacher reads classics in English: “Jane Eyre”, “Great Expectations,” and “Death on the Nile”.

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They liked the idea, especially because their cell groups had names such as The Butterflies, The Angels, etc. It was a really wonderful thing.”

In the summer of 2017, the principal of the elementary school in Tătărăştii de Sus told Denisa Bularda that she was willing to take over the Romanian classes being taught to children in the Lada Community Center. Through word of mouth, news of the language classes made their way to Eliza Neag, who grew up in Lada before moving to Alexandria for high school.

Photos: personal archive

“I gave the older children the responsibility of helping the younger children and after a while, they began organizing this themselves.

ALONG COMES ELIZA

Shakespeare’s Language

“I was overwhelmed by the enthusiasm and curiosity. In the right environment, these kids want to learn. At the end of the class, I sensed that I really belonged there with the children, sharing with them the secrets of Shakespeare’s language.”

Eliza is well aware that her home county, Teleorman, has gained an infamous reputation as the home of the current Prime Minister who speaks with poor Romanian grammar and cannot speak English at all.

“I continue to believe that Teleorman has values that deserve to be recognized and respected. We are not all uneducated and helpless. It is sad that our country is represented with so little dignity. I will vote for better-trained candidates in terms of management, studies and administration capacity,” says the adolescent Eliza Neag.

She insists that education “is the only weapon of a nation and a passport towards a better world.”

That’s why she goes to meet the children of Lada and Negrenii de Sus on a weekly basis. She wants to show them the “advantages of being an educated individual.”

DENISA AGREES

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“I want people to see that they are capable of resolving issues for themselves. If we wait for the government, we will be waiting forever.

Does that mean we simply give up? No! There are many people who can create change around them. The government only creates real programs, allowing for distribution to the masses, after it sees successful models initiated by citizens.

People can take responsibility over many things.

Look at Eliza’s example; a single student gathered the children, organized them in groups and taught them something. That is how change happens.

I’ve seen so many situations where people just gave up because they didn’t have the money to pay a tutor and send the kid off to work in Italy.

But that’s not right! Maybe one of the neighbors knows something or perhaps in one of the nearby schools, there’s a child in the twelfth grade who has just won the Math Olympiad. Maybe she can help your son without asking for anything in exchange.”

FATHER FLORIN Denisa and Eliza’s work all began because a local Priest took the initiative to start a food bank.

“In a sentence, my message would be the following: I want to see as many priests as possible getting involved in their communities,” says Father Florin Danu.

“I see the priesthood as a mission to improve lives, not as a job.

In four years, we had only two dropouts from the education program. We have also had some big successes. Two of our students have made it to top high schools in Bucharest. Other children have found employment and are on the path to a healthy life. The fruits of our labor are becoming visible.

As Priests we can’t solve many problems, but we can get the ball rolling. The only credit that can be given to me, if I could even say that, is for having the initial initiative.”

The children from the village of Lada, standing in front of the church alongside of Father Danu.

After Sunday mass, Father Florin Danu transforms the Lada Orthodox Church into a school for children.

Photos: personal archive 59

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Ten Years in the European Union BARBU MATEESCU

How is Romania doing?

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Ten Years in the European Union

June 2016, Romanian soccer fans parade through the streets to show their support during the Euro Cup.

On January 1st, 2007 Romanians became citizens of the European Union. With this came the freedom to work and travel freely across the 27 European Countries.

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The tenth anniversary is a good time to reflect on the impact of this historic event. Two things are very obvious: Private financial investment has led to substantial economic progress in the large cities of Romania.

There are hundreds of new buildings and bustling cafes, as well as modern private hospitals and clinics. There is a growing middle class with disposable income to spend. In 2018, Romania’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) will exceed 200 billion dollars — double the value it had in 2006.

The public sector has completely failed in its role to modernize roads, rail, schools and healthcare.

There is a general discontent in Romania that things have not improved fast enough and that we are still dealing with chronic issues of corruption, stifling bureaucracy and government incompetence. So how do things truly stand? How have we benefited since

becoming a member of the European Union and what have we lost?

In order to respond to this question, we listed ten of Romania’s developments since it acquired EU membership and compared them with the previous period.

1. HUGE NUMBERS OF ROMANIANS HAVE LEFT THE COUNTRY By far the most significant statistic is the migration of Romanians to the West. In 2000, there were 1,135,867 Romanians living abroad. In 2015, the number was 3,408,118. Only war-torn Syria had a higher rate of migration.

The economic impact of such a large population loss is difficult to measure. Clearly Romania has lost a large percentage of it’s highly skilled workforce.

On the other hand, the diaspora work force sends billions of Euro’s home every year to care for and support family.

Socially, the consequences are devastating, as families have been torn apart. Regardless of whether it has been parents leaving their young children or young adults leaving their elderly parents.

Politically, the consequences may be where the greatest damage is felt. Young professionals that understand how democratic systems and free markets work, are not in the country to vote in Parliamentary elections. This leaves an electorate of largely unemployed older people whose votes are easily bought with simple pension increases.

Photo: Raul Ștef

2. MUCH LONGER LIFE SPAN The average life expectancy immediately after the Revolution was 69.5 years. In 2006, before entering the EU, it increased to 72.2. Now, it has reached 75.4. (National Institute of Statistics, POP217A table — Average life expectancy by residence area, sex, macroregions, development regions and counties.)

In other words, in the last 10 years, Romania’s life expectancy grew more than it did in the 16 years prior (1990-2006). The most likely factors behind this increase are access to better pharmaceuticals and an improvement in living conditions.

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Ten Years in the European Union

3. ROMANIANS GET MARRIED LATER

Average age at first marriage — National Institute of Statistics.

This increase follows the trends in most developing countries that when people have more money and more choices, they get married later.

4. TRAINS SERVICE IS WORSE NOW THAN IN COMMUNISM

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In 2016, Romanian passanger trains run slower than during Communism due to deteriorating infrastructure.

The reasons for the large trade deficit include the “brain drain” of skilled labor, lack of infrastructure, inefficient bureaucracy, corruption and unpredictable government policy.

6. THE AVERAGE ROMANIAN FAMILY IS NOW ABLE TO SAVE OR BORROW MONEY

5. IMPORTS HAVE GROWN MASSIVELY We often hear that “Romania has become an outlet for goods from the European Union”. Indeed, between 2006 and 2016, imports from the EU’s strong economies have increased considerably.

Disadvantaged by the fact that we have entered the EU is mainly the Russian Federation (38% decrease in imports) and other countries that were part of the Soviet Union.

Average monthly income and expenditure per household — National Institute of Statistics.

Photo: Raul Č˜tef

7. THE NUMBER OF CINEMAS HAVE DROPPED TO BELOW 100 In 1990 there were 450 cinemas in Romania. This number dropped to 67 in 2010, but has increased to 92 in 2016.

Almost all the new cinemas in Romania are built in new shopping malls. The effect is that urban residents have access to modern cinema and that the rural residents have lost access to movies.

For years the Romanian State was an active supporter of organized sports. Since 2007, the number of athletes eligible for state support has decreased by 80%.

In the 2004 Athens Summer Olympics, Romanian athletes won 19 medals whereas in the 2016 Rio de Janeiro Summer Olympics, Romanians won only 5 medals.

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The only gold medal at Rio 2016 was won by the women’s national fencing team.

8. THE DECLINE OF SPORTS

Ten Years in the European Union

9. ONLY SEVEN COUNTIES HAVE MORE EMPLOYEES THAN BEFORE ROMANIA’S ENTRY INTO THE EU Not all regions of Romania have benefitted to the same extent from EU integration. Only 7 of Romania’s 41 counties have more employees than in 2006.

11. FUTURE PROJECTION (added by Don Lothrop) Since 1990, Romania’s economy has grown over 9% per year, not as fast as China, but much faster than the western world.

Average number of employees — National Institute of Statistics.

18 of the 41 counties have lost more than 10% of their employees since Romania joined the EU. Generally speaking, this is in reference to the poorer counties, where much of the workforce has left Romania and gone to work abroad.

10. RECORD NUMBER OF TOURISTS

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One encouraging sign is the record number of tourists visting Romania. In 2016, the last year of NIS aggregated data, the number of foreign tourists totalled 10.2 million. (National Institute of Statistics, table TUR107C — Arrivals of foreign visitors to Romania based on continents and countries of origin.)

Many of the tourists fall in the love with the beauty of the Romanian landscape and traditions of rural life. This influx of foreigners into rural Romania has dramatically increased direct contact with the western world.

Euroscepticism in Romania is relatively low (around 20%) compared to other European countries.

Compound Annual Growth Rate between 19922015. (Source: World Bank, 2017. “Magnet Cities: Migration and Commuting in Romania.”)

What is most disappointing is the failure of government to invest in the future of Romania. The infrastructure, education system and healthcare services all fall well below European standards and the progress of other former communist countries.

This is why so many Romanians have left the country and why 51% of the population still lives in poverty.

The strength of Romania has always been it’s culture, not it’s self-governance. The hope for Romania is that citizens around the world decide that their culture is worth fighting for and assert their democratic rights to elect competent government officials that serve the public interest and preserve our beautiful culture.

ONE EXAMPLE OF NEGLIGENT PUBLIC INVESTMENT CAN BE SEEN BY COMPARING THE EUROPEAN HIGHWAY NETWORK TO ROMANIA

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Completed Highways in Romania — 2018.

Alba Iulia has devised its development strategy in partnership with the World Bank.

Intelligent Fortress BIANCA FELSEGHI

Alba Iulia aims to be a “Smart City”.

The Alba Iulia Fortress

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“A great city is like a good party — people stay longer than planned because they enjoy themselves.”

This proverb is attributed to the Danish architect, Jan Gehl, who has made a reputation improving the quality of urban life by focusing on pedestrians and cyclists. The proverb is now the motto — hung up in oversize letters at the entrance of the office — of the Alba Iulia City Manager.

On December 1st, 1918, Alba Iulia was the birthplace of modern Romania. In 2018, Alba Iulia aspires to lead Romania into its second century by piloting 100 “Smart City” applications that changes the paradigm of local government.

SMART CITY To find the smart-city nerve center, you have to walk past the Mayor’s office, slide past the local police officer, and make your way through throngs of forlorn retirees, gripping their flat caps in their hands. At the end of a seemingly endless corridor, you’ll stumble into Alba Iulia 2.0.

Here, in several offices, are people busily writing European Union project proposals. Alba Iulia’s recent facelift is largely due to their efforts. The city is the beneficiary of extraordinary restoration projects.

Intelligent Fortress The hot topic in these crowded offices is the concept of “Smart City”. But not the same “Smart City” as conceived by Bucharest Mayor, Gabriela Firea, who attempted to flatter Bucharest’s citizens by stating they live in a “Smart City” because its citizens are smart.

Nor is it the “Smart City” concept used in the advertising campaigns of mayors who purchase a traffic management application or launch a mobile app that helps citizens find parking spaces. All the while, citizens are still stopping at every red light and driving an hour to get to work.

“We have no idea how to use the technology”, responds the city manager of Alba Iulia, Nicolaie Moldovan. “We don’t have people who are responsible for maintaining and managing these applications or people who know how to benefit from the strengths of high technology.”

To benefit from technology, there is a need for deep cultural change in local administration.

Governments need to rethink their role and relationship with citizens. There is also a need for new national legislation.

“When there is political will, legislation can happen very quickly in Romania. Today, we see that if someone want to change the justice laws, they can do so in two weeks.

It should be very easy to legislate a smart way of operating cities.”

Nicolaie Moldovan, the Public Administrator of Alba Iulia.

Photo: Raul Ştef

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The Intelligent Fortress

Image: One of the gates of the Alba Carolina Fortress.

Photo: Romulus Oprișcan

100 SMART SOLUTIONS FOR 100 YEARS AS A NATION

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“In our city’s strategic plan, ‘smart’ development has first priority. Alba Iulia will be an exhibition center in 2018. A laboratory where many projects under the ‘Smart City’ umbrella will be tested. We are too poor of a city to purchase something of low quality. So we decided to run tests before purchasing and implementing something here,” says the City Manager.

Alba Iuliu chose to follow the e-government model applied in Estonia.

“We don’t have time to reinvent the wheel.

We realize that we’re falling behind,” explains Nicolaie Moldovan.

Mayor Mircea Hava gave Moldovan free reign to assemble a top team of reform specialists.

Moldovan’s team now includes several members of the Gov IT Hub project, launched by Prime Minister

Cioloş in 2016 to find solutions to the problems facing the federal administration.

Just a few days after they resigned from the National Government, they received the offer to work for the Alba Iulia City Hall.

“A group of them have united under an NGO called Civic Tech. We signed a protocol for the completion of four different projects.

One of the projects they’re going to work on is the City of Alba Iulia website with the goal of making it the most user-friendly website in Romania. If it is successful for us, it might become of interest to 3,000 plus administrations. We’re like a flock of sheep, we follow one another.”

Alba Iulia also signed a protocol with the Ministry of Communications and Information Society. The document serves as a guideline for multinational companies, local firms, or start-ups to demo their smart city solutions at the Unirii Fortress.

The sledding hill in the interior of Alba Iulia’s Fortress.

For tech companies, having this kind of base is extremely attractive because they can discover how to improve their own software. Once scaled, the software can be applied to much larger markets.

“For us, it’s important to understand which products and services work and which ones don’t. We need to know what the maintenance costs are like and what kind of security risks they entail. We will use this information to develop healthy public procurement contracts,” explains Nicolaie Moldovan.

THE 365 DAY PLAN By mid-December 2017, the City of Alba Iulia had signed 69 contracts for testing smart technologies.

HERE ARE SOME OTHER APPLICATIONS BEING TESTED IN 2018 uRadMonitor is a air quality monitor mounted in public transport buses. e-albaiulia is a virtual guide for sightseeing, events and restaurants. This application uses beacon technology — devices that transmit information on users’ phones when the user is within range. e-alabiulia is also used by the administration to ask citizens questions regarding public services or infrastructure.

LoraWan is an Internet of Things (IoT) app which collects real time performance data on public utilities. For example, the water flow rate is measured at the main points in the city.

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For one year, starting on January 1, 2018, the software will be tested and will be modified according to citizens’ responses. The municipality’s partners include Microsoft, Orange, Philips, Telekom, as well as 10 companies from the Cluj IT Cluster.

Orange, for example, has proposed 14 different projects. One of these involves free Wi-Fi in the Alba Carolina Fortress as well as in the city’s best high schools, in the local university, train station and bus station.

Alba Iulia Christmas Market.

Photo: Romulus Oprișcan

The Intelligent Fortress

Fully restored, the Alba Carolina Fortress is spectacular.

Photo: Romulus Oprișcan

“It’s very complex because it’s a long range communication system that broadcasts information from underground. But it helps us measure real-time network parameters,” explains Valentin Volnica, manager of smart city projects in Alba Iulia.

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The LoraWan sensor network is also coupled with three intelligent lighting systems provided by the Chinese company ZTE. These allow for the adjustment of energy input to public lighting based on sunlight, weather and time of day.

Valentin Volnica has worked in telecommunications for 20 years and has a limitless curiosity for new technologies. He shows us the beacons that illuminate Alba Carolina Fortress.

“You can’t see these beacons, once we tried looking for one and it took us a good amount of time to find it!”

The city’s administration has not limited the applications to be tested in 2018. There is no budget ceiling and no deadline for pilot projects.

“We have been inundated with commercial offers. Everyone tells us that they are the best. But we don’t have the technical capacity, nor the experience, to assess what really works. So we created a collaboration formula in which companies can show us how their product or their service works,” states Nicolae Moldovan.

THE NEXT 100 YEARS

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Local governments can no longer limit themselves to asphalt, but must move to the next level. In the new reality, votes will be earned by a more sensible indicator — the quality of life.

People have to fall in love with the city and be proud of where they live.” Nicolaie Moldovan, city manager of Alba Iulia.

Photo: Romulus Oprișcan

Alba Iulia is turning the paradigm of Romanian living upside. In the New Romania, citizens are no longer subjects, they are customers. In the borderless world of the European Union, cities need to compete to attract residents.

“Raising the quality of life in a city begins with lighting, canalization, asphalting, sidewalks, and bicycle lanes. But parallel to that, is investment in education, health and culture.

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The hands of Emil Drăgan, a veteran of the War, the Canal and Communist prisons.

Photo: Raul Ĺžtef

into the light VALENTIN ȘCHIOPU

97 year old Emil Drăgan’s final desire for Romania.

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Emil Drăgan celebrates 97 years on November 20th.

At 23 years of age, Emil was on the frontlines in the battle to free Transylvania from the Germans.

A battle in which the Romanians fell like dominoes.

These were sons of peasants who went off to fight with no formal training and wearing galoshes on their feet.

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At 33, Emil walked out the doors of the Gherla prison. One had only to look at the palms of his hands to catch a glimpse of the pain he had endured.

Emil returned home in March of 1954 with the intent of becoming a teacher but the job came at too high of a cost. He would have to be both an informer as well as a teacher, so he became a bricklayer.

In the 1970s, he received an offer to join the communist party. “You are now rehabilitated” was the sales pitch.

“Please, leave me be,” was his response.

CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY Emil Drăgan was born on November 20, 1920 in the commune of Galda de Jos in Alba County. At 97, he has lived through most of Romania’s 100 year history.

“Next year, Romania will celebrate 100 years of history and we will congratulate one another with the traditional expression of ‘To many more years’”, Emil anticipates.

“Honestly, I do not wish for many more years like the past 100. I want a more beautiful, healthier, safer Romania. In the past, we were like the leaf of a walnut tree, tied to the tree with a silk string. We flew wherever the wind blew.”

Into the light During the war, Romania was the soccer ball of the world’s great powers. Later, with the arrival of the communists, all possible moral principles were violated. We were beaten, literally and figuratively, until our identity was destroyed.

I hope that this nation manages to make its way out of the darkness and into the light. I continue to feel this hope is possible.

PICTURES Emil shares his picture collection with us, starting from his high school graduation to his retirement.

“Here I am at 18, 29, as a prisoner, 44, 64, and that’s where the pictures end. Old age is the always the same.”

He walks with a cane as his knees tremble. He lives with a neighbor and only manages to get to church when he finds someone to drive him there. His memory plays tricks on him, yet it doesn’t faze him.

“It’s not so easy to rewind 97 years of life, so I depend on pictures to look back on my life. What I see are lots of dreams. Dreams are one thing that the Communists could not kill.”

Emil does not dwell on his suffering. His favorite subject is his father, Aron Drăgan. Aron was among

the first wave of Romanian immigrants to the United States and Canada.

In the early 1990’s, the young miller from Galda boarded a ship with empty pockets, ready to join the industrial revolution. In those days, people would catch the ship from Hamburg, Bremerhaven or Cuxhaven. The merchant’s slogan was written by a clever copywriter: “America is just around the corner.”

The reality is that the ship took nearly one month to arrive, depending on the weather conditions and on the vessel itself. Aron was packed like a sardine into the steerage class with the bare minimum of food. From New York, he and his fellow immigrants boarded trains for factories in the rust belt of Pittsburgh, Cleveland and Detroit.

Aron learned a trade and worked hard in the Great Lakes region. One morning he woke up with severe leg pain and stayed home from work. Later that day an explosion at his worksite left all his colleagues dead. Fate had spared Aron’s life and sent him back home to Romania in 1919.

Aron liked to say he came home to celebrate the Great Union of Romania. A year after his return, his son Emil was born. Aron managed to avoid fighting in both of the two World Wars, but he could not escape the Communists. In the 1950s, he was declared a “wealthy peasant” and the 70-year old miller was arrested and jailed for a year.

Photos: Raul Ștef 83

Video: Veteran of War and political prisoner, 97 years old.

Transatlantic vessel, early 1920. Image: Wikipedia Emil when the war broke out. (bottom)

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WORLD WAR TWO Emil Drăgan was an artillery officer. He matured in the trenches. He chooses not to glorify the acts of military heroism of the Romanian troops. He says that our soldiers were better equipped in the War of Independence than in 1941 when the Axis’ troops approached.

He fought first on the western front and was imprisoned in Hungary after being caught. He spent six months in the concentration camps at Kaisersteinbruck and Oranienburg. The Germans would give them a daily ration of about 200 grams.

Sometimes, the Germans would take the Romanian soldiers out “to graze”, literally. They would be brought to pastures where they were expected to feed on roots.

Romanian Soldiers in World War II.

BACK HOME When Emil arrived home in Galda de Jos after the war in July 1945, he found things almost exactly as he had left them, except that there were Russians poking their noses in everything. Drăgan minded his own business, finished his studies in Economics and was preparing to become a teacher. However, he was arrested on March 11, 1948. The crime: failure to denounce a conspiracy that threatened social order.

The authorities had made a connection between him, a fresh college graduate, and the former mayor of Galda de Jos, Florian Picoş. Picoş supported anti communist resistance groups led by Nicolae Dabija and Alexandru Maxim that hid in the mountains.

“Picoş was leading an organization in opposition to the regime, a nationalistpeasant association. Soon enough, I realized that they were an inefficient organization that made more noise than anything else.

The Securitate grouped me together with the guilty even though I had only returned from college two months before. Out of nowhere, I found myself being investigated in the basements of the Securitate in Alba-Iulia.”

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There, he began to understand that he was in grave danger. Drăgan was sentenced to five years in prison and all his property confiscated. He served his entire sentence.

Almost 70 years later, he believes that there is no hell as terrifying as the one he experienced in Aiud — the first prison he was locked up in. Although he experienced war and a concentration camp, it was in the prison of Aiud where he realized that terror can take on unimaginable shapes.

On the evening of October 17, 1949, he stepped into the reception room of the Aiud prison alongside of 15 other convicts from the Dabija and Maxim battalions. When the bolt was locked behind them, they were suddenly hit by a pestilential smell and to their horror, they saw that there was a bucket full of feces in the middle of the room.

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This image still haunts him today.

“A big bucket, so crammed that feces had spilled over for a meter around the bucket.

It had been put there intentionally as a message for us. We were as valuable to them as that bucket of feces.

We stayed glued to the walls for two days until we were assigned to two by four meter cells. We were five to a cell. No bed and no blankets. I spent a winter in Aiud.

I was lucky that I had been arrested in peasant clothing that was woven out of

wool. There were two men from Bucharest who had been arrested in casual street clothes — poor men, they suffered greatly.

There, in the Aiud prison, people cried until they had no more tears. Can you imagine, crying but there are no tears coming out because there are none left?”

From Aiud, he was sent to the Canal, in the Valea Neagră and Basarabi colonies.

The work had begun there in the summer of 1949.

There were 11 forced labor camps — the largest communist construction site — where over tens of thousands of political detainees worked until 1953.

“Everyone from former ministers, the crème de la crème of the Romanian intelligentsia, and doormen served sentences there. Regardless of our age and health, we would be sent off to load and unload the wheelbarrows.

The hardest work was at the wheelbarrow.

You would dig with the spade in the canal, with reddened hands teeming with blood, then you would have to lift the soil and place it about four to five meters above.”

Into the light

Emil Drăgan, 18 years old. Photo: Personal archive

After the Canal, Emil’s final stop was Gherla prison. Two weeks before being released, he was taken from his cell and frisked right down to the bone. “They wanted to ensure that I wasn’t taking anything out of the jail, correspondence, whatever it may be. The last two weeks of my sentence were spent in solitary confinement.”

“FREE MAN” On March 10, 1954, he became a “free man.” He was never able to follow his dream of being a teacher. Instead he was assigned to work at a local agricultural cooperative.

“How would it be to find out that your wife is an informer? I have seen this happen many times. I repeat, during communism, all moral principles were infringed.

I can’t accept the fact that our torturers were not punished after the Revolution, I really can’t explain it. We should’ve brought things to light, we should’ve said the truth.”

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Drăgan says the only freedom he had was the moral freedom to never compromise his values.

He never joined the communist party and never was an informer. The Securitate had so many paid informants that Emil was afraid to ever get married.

The F.A.R. mission is to stimulate but also to reward, through appropriate prizes, the Romanian photographic community which has experienced a tremendous evolution over the last years.

Supported by important Romanian and international brands, but especially gathering as jury members some of the most appreciated (contemporary) Romanian photographers, well-known international photographers and famous international editors and publishers (from National Geographic USA, National Geographic Traveler, The New York Times, LensCulture, 1X.com etc), #FAR2018 aims to be the no.1 project of the photography industry in Romania.

On the June 6th, 2018, #FAR will be officially launched as the biggest Romanian photography contest ever. Be a part of it!

An event under the aegis:

PHOTOGRAPHER OF THE YEAR IN ROMANIA OPEN CALL FOR ENTRIES JUNE 13 / AUGUST 31

VIDEO

https://pressone.ro/video

THE PRESSONE WAY The PressOne way is our belief that the best stories are born when public interest meets a journalist’s personal curiosity.

It occurs when an undiscovered, inflammable substance is sparked by a personal approach.

The PressOne journalist starts with an original idea or approach of a known topic.

It continues with thorough documentation, which is achieved by thinking of the reader, not of somebody’s political or business interest.

And is completed with a combined package of “text & image” meant to provide a unique satisfaction to the reader as they have been respected, not lied to.

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