THE COLIBAȘI NOVELLA

Four young men are in prison for trivial reasons in Communist Romania. The year is 1984.

STEVE IKEMAN


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

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THE COLIBAȘI NOVELLA

ONE
The juvenile detention facility of Colibași de Argeș, located at 15 kilometers to the northeast of Pitești, is nestled in a charming sub-Carpathian region, characterized by lush forests and flowing rivers.
Established on April 1, 1967, the Colibași section of the Pitești Penitentiary was created to supply the essential labor force required for the construction of the nearby car factory, called the Dacia Automobile Plant.
Between its confines and the penitentiary lies a hill known as Pădurea Valea Mare Colibași, a wooded area that reaches an altitude of roughly 400 meters.
The subsection designated for juvenile delinquents is positioned south of the plant, at a mere 125 kilometers distance from Bucharest, the capital of Romania.
The town of Mioveni, of which Colibași is a suburb, is situated along the left bank of the Argeșel River, just 2.5 kilometers up from where it converges with the Târgului River.

The penitentiary's location was decidedly punitive, and it would have been far more beneficial for everyone involved, if this correctional institution had been established a little further up into the mountains, away from the industrial plant. Indeed, had it not been surrounded by high walls and had it been fitted out with amenities such as a hotel featuring a swimming pool, a restaurant and sports facilities, instead of just dormitories for the incarcerated youth, the commander’s post, the canteen, bath hall and annex buildings, it could have even aspired to achieve the status of a holiday resort. However, such luxury remained a fancy dream of mine.
During daylight hours, but especially at night, the sounds emanating from the metal processing machines at the Automobile Plant reverberated across the hill. The constant noise of forklifts moving subassemblies between production buildings, the rumbling of heavy-duty trucks, and the intermittent shouts of workers made for a constant din. On days when the mountain winds blew southward, they carried with them the pungent scent of automobile paints wafting in from the factory. Yet, all this background noise and smell seemed to barely faze the juveniles, the vast majority of whom hailed from working-class backgrounds.
In theory, they were the rightful owners of all means of production, but ironically, they had been incarcerated at Colibași for committing offenses against the state’s socialist property.
In the elaborate language of judicial bureaucracy, a typical juvenile case might be articulated as follows: "X-ulescu, an 18-year-old resident of Rm. Vâlcea, has been sentenced to a term of imprisonment for two years for committing the crime of aggravated theft."
The courts retained that during the course of the year 1982, he engaged in multiple thefts within the jurisdiction of his hometown. Upon the actions undertaken, the convict was identified (i.e., turned in by someone), arrested, and placed in the Center for Detention and Preventive Arrest, subsequently being incarcerated at the Colibași Penitentiary to serve his sentence.
As a matter of fact the vast majority of those condemned genuinely deserved their re-education, and for some who faced hardship at home, the prison, where juveniles received three meals a day, two baths a week and free accommodation, could even resemble a vacation camp.
It was a sunny summer day, and all the boys who did not have to fulfill any cleaning duties had ventured outside to enjoy some recreation. I had completed my daily objectives and was idly passing the time out in the courtyard observing the goings of the jackals, who moved slowly around from one gang to the other, trying to intimidate the weaker members and gather information for their reports.

A group of boys had started a game of soccer in the yard behind the main bathroom and were energetically chasing the ball, shoving each other, shouting and laughing.
The most athletically gifted boys were doing push-ups and lifting weights in the corner dubbed the athletic gym, while others, less active, sat at tables playing cards, backgammon, or chess. The rest had gathered in clusters, lounging in the sun, chatting, and smoking.
Even though they were enjoying their time, everyone jumped to their feet when the familiar sound of a horn blared at the front gate. The bus from Drăgășani had arrived with the latest transport of offenders, and most of the juveniles rushed in a hurry toward the entrance to catch a glimpse of the newcomers.
The onlookers had gathered as curious as the spectators at a show around the vehicle, which was parked on the asphalted area in front of the main entrance, where Corporal Soare, bustling and full of self-importance, shouted for everyone to step aside, trying to push them away from the bus door.
Ciocan and his cronies immediately elbowed their way to the front row, eager to assess each of the new arrivals.
The newly incarcerated individuals appeared one by one at the door of the black windowed vehicle, stepping down the three steps of the bus's stair; squinting in the harsh sunlight.
There were the usual faces of workers, with rough features, muscular and uneducated, some of them appearing to be malnourished, all dressed in ragged clothes or blue overalls as if they had just come back from work, defiantly displaying their traits of antisocial behavior which had brought them here.
Many were pulling out cigarette packs from their pockets, and lighting up their first smoke.

Among them, a slender young man emerged, with harmonious features, brown eyes, and chestnut hair, moving calmly and indifferently, with unexpected confidence and self-assurance, as if he had not been brought up here for his mandatory re-education, but instead had arrived on a study trip camp.
I made a mental note to investigate him more closely.
After the mandatory triage, the newcomers were always assigned to one the two inmate heads of the prison: Ciocan from block number one and Țurcanu from block number two, who individually introduced each newcomer to a so-called more responsible member of the group.
That person would be answering for their re-education. It was like the proverb about the two blind men who don’t get very far because they guide each other until they fall into a pit.
The first objective of their short re-education checklist was to establish who the boss was. Once the hierarchy was established through intimidation and physical force, the weaker inmates were compelled to join one of the organized clans led by the strong ones, and from that point on to serve them.
Sometimes, however, a more fragile juvenile would break down psychologically, resulting into reports to the Directorate of Penitentiaries which read thus:
"The 17-year-old inmate from Vâlcea County (ironically, named Andrei Vâlceanu), who was sentenced to four and a half years for robbery and incarcerated at Colibași Penitentiary, County of Argeș, was absent from roll call on the morning of July 21, 1982, and was found hanging at seven forty-five in the cell number 120.
The medical staff within the prison attempted to resuscitate the inmate (pro forma), but without success (they had no idea how to resuscitate someone, and besides he was already cold).
The death was confirmed by the unit's nurse. According to procedures, his family and the competent authorities, namely the Argeș Tribunal, the County Police Inspectorate, and the Forensic Medicine Service were promptly notified."
The senseless loss of a young life filled me with fury at the thought of the cruelty, incompetence, and the egregious criminal negligence of the institution's staff toward the most vulnerable among the incarcerated.
Just like in all prisons in America and beyond.
The commander of the penitentiary was a reassigned major of the infantry, about fifty years old, named Ioan Farcaș, a tall, conceited, imposing man, who believed himself to be the reincarnation of medieval Kneaz Farkaș of the Lotru, ruler of Severin County and half of Oltenia.
However, his self-conferred nobility title was not accompanied by the leadership attributes of the famed prince, the major being a coward and an opportunist who turned like the weathervane in the direction where the political winds blew. He had no understanding of the juveniles' problems and only wanted to pass his time quickly and painlessly so he could retire without cares.
With his approval, I had taken upon myself the task of maintaining law and order.
My favorite motto was “And justice for all!” It was the title of a famous film from 1979 with Al Pacino playing the role of the young lawyer Arthur Kirkland from Baltimore. Just like me, he detested the corrupt justice system and tried to help those in need.

However, most of the time, Kirkland’s best intentions clashed with the lack of support from his associates and the amorality of a system in which he had to plead for the innocence of offenders who were proven criminals, as in the case of a judge accused of killing a prostitute.
I, however, didn’t have to present my case in front of a jury, and could employ more subtle methods than Kirkland to protect the innocent and achieve justice and fairness for all, to the extent that such a thing was even possible.
For that purpose, I had been assigned to the mission of investigating potentially dangerous situations and bringing them to the attention of the authorities.
However, I had no intention of being labeled a snitch, so in the event that any of the older inmates was trying to exploit a newcomer’s weakness, instead of reporting him, I acted on my own initiative, either using the threat of violence for the benefit of the culprit, or administering him a discreet and judicious preventive correction.
For this, I had been tacitly acknowledged by all those who had two neurons to think.
All decision-makers understood that a pinch of prevention is worth more than a kilogram of cure. Some juveniles were more antisocial than others, but none of the others wanted an incident that could have resulted in an investigation from the Directorate of Penitentiaries, the Ministry of Justice, or worse, from the dreaded State Security.
That is why when a situation arose, that could escalate into a crisis, there was always someone in the crowd who approached me discreetly and cautiously requested my assistance.
In the end, the Commander came to appreciate my method of action at its true value and granted me carte blanche regarding cases of potential violence. With the tacit understanding that I was not to report back to him. He was satisfied to know that peace reigned in the prison and was not interested in knowing how it had been achieved.

I was just about to leave, when the last juvenile to arrive, a nice young lad stepped off the bus, green eyes and long blonde hair, modestly dressed as if he was coming from the countryside. He was no more than sixteen years old. He walked slowly, eyes down, bowed, visibly embarrassed to find himself in prison.
What was this clean-cut boy doing here, who had not yet finished middle school? He looked like an innocent lamb thrown among wolves. I immediately noticed evident interest and agitation among Ciocan's group, who were shoving forward to better see the newcomer, making it difficult for Corporal Soare to maintain order.
Someone surely wanted to take revenge on him or his family. His fate had already been sealed; he just didn’t know it yet.
I was swept by an overpowering anger aimed at the injustice of this world. I felt like punching someone in the gut.
I had to calm down though. Violence would not solve anything. My mission was to save the innocent.
I sat down to think. What was about to happen in the next few minutes was going to determine his fate. Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck me, and I realized what I had to do.
Puffed up by his own importance, Corporal Soare had stationed himself at the bus door with a list in hand and had begun organizing the juveniles calling them by name, barking orders, and shouting at some to put out their cigarettes and line up.
Once the column formed up, Soare took the lead, ready to march them in for triage.
I quickly approached him and said firmly: “Comrade Soare, that blond boy at the back is my cousin. Please allow me to speak with him for five minutes!”
Soare, whose intelligence fortunately was not his strongest asset, looked at me suspiciously.
-Your cousin, Gavrilă?
-Yes, on my mother’s side,” I hurried to add, before he could ask me what his name was.
-Alright, Gavrilă, replied Soare, moving along; five minutes, after which you bring him in personally in for triage! Do you understand?
-Yes, sir, I said.
-Don’t forget, you’re responsible!
-I won’t forget, I replied as I walked away.
I waited until the blond boy reached me and stopped him with my hand on his shoulder.
-What’s your name, young man?
-Ionuț Beșleagă, Comrade, he said timidly. So, judging by his name, he was a Moldovan.
-Listen to me carefully, Ionuț! I said. My name is Marius Gavrilă. You are my cousin, you understand?
I will embrace you as if we haven’t seen each other in a long time. You hug me back, and after that we will sit down on the bench, and I’ll explain it to you.
Before Ionuț could say anything, I embraced him and gave him a light kiss him on the cheek, and he held me for a moment around the waist.
We separated, sat on the bench, and I said seriously: -Ionuț, you’re in great danger, and only I can save you.
He looked at me suspiciously. -Save me? From whom?
-Look around you, I said, don’t you see how many eyes are watching you? Do you think any of them want what’s good for you?

Ionuț stiffened. -You want to save me, so you can make me your slave? Thanks, but I can take care of myself!
Before I could say anything further, he got up from the bench and headed toward his group, which was just filing into the reception building. I sighed and followed him.
As I suspected, Ciocan had approached Soare at the door of the triage building and was having an animated conversation with him.
I slipped past them and quickly entered the barbershop where Florin was busy cutting the hair of the new arrivals. They were seated one by one on the barber’s chair, and Florin used the only electric clipper of the unit to buzz-cut their hair like shearing sheep.

I positioned myself next to him and slipped a pack of Bulgarian BT cigarettes into the pocket of his smock. -Florin, do you see that blond boy at the back? He’s my cousin!
Florin whistled admiringly.
-Florine, I’m serious, he really is my cousin! You leave him till last, and when it’s his turn, your machine breaks down. He stays unshorn, understood?”
-Yes, chief, I understand, the machine will break down, and that’s it!
-Bravo, Florin, you’re a good guy, I’ll remember you!
Florin slapped his palm against the pocket of his smock, laughing:
-Alright, chief, we’re paid!
I exited the barbershop and crossed the road to the commandant's office.
Maria, the secretary, who just finished typing a document on her machine, had taken out her nail polish from the drawer, and was doing her manicure. The sharp smell of the red nail polish she was using to paint her fingernails filled the entire place.
She was stylishly dressed, according to local fashion, in a green two-piece suit, which was fitting somewhat tightly over her plump waist and was wearing a matching olive dress underneath.
She wore a penetrating Russian fragrance called Krasnaia Moskva, or Red Moscow, which I later learned, had been copied after the American perfume Elizabeth Arden Red Door. Or perhaps the other way around.
In any case, its pungency took your breath away.

“Comrade Maria,” I said hurriedly; “I need a white envelope, and please notify Comrade Commander that I need to speak with him.”
While Maria was in the boss's office, I pulled the four hundred I always carried with me from the back pocket of my pants and slipped them discreetly into the envelope.
Farcaș, dressed in the blue military uniform with major epaulettes on his shoulders, was seated at the desk, with an all-important mien, concentrated, scribbling something in a file with an ink pen.
From the color portrait hanging on the wall behind him, the Head of State smiled enigmatically.
The commander was in a good mood. “How are you doing, Gavrilă? Sit down!”
-Comrade Major, I said firmly as I took my seat, “I need a favor!
Recalling my useful services from the past, the major asked me amiably: “What favor, Gavrilă? Speak!”
-One of the newcomers, Ionuț Beșleagă, is my cousin on my mother’s side. I would like you to allow him to live with me.
-What, Gavrilă? You’ve been pestering me up to now to allow you to live alone; and now you need a companion?
-Yes, Comrade Commander! You’re right, but this is a different situation: Ionuț is my relative!
-Hmm, he said suspiciously, related, huh? Do you have any documents to prove it?
-Of course, Comrade Major, I said, handing him the envelope, I have here four certificates signed by Nicolae Bălcescu himself!
-Aha, he said, putting the envelope in his desk drawer, the blue forms! Good! And do you have any others?
-Not for now, but the holidays are coming soon, and I’m sure Nicolae Bălcescu will sign another set of documents!
-Alright, Gavrilă, said he importantly, it’s approved! And raising his voice, shouted: -Maria, send for Corporal Soare!
-He’s right here, said Maria from behind the door; he’s waiting to be received by you.
-Alright, send him in!
Soare entered with his cap in one hand and a file in the other. -Long live, Comrade Major! he said, surprised to see me sitting in a chair.
-What do you have there, Soare? asked the Commander without offering him a seat.
-The situation of the newcomers, said Soare, handing him the file.
Farcaș leafed through it and stopped at a name. -What about Ionuț Beșleagă, who did you place him with?
-With Marin Ciocan.
-At the request of Beșleagă?
-No, it was Ciocan’s request.
The major rose threateningly from his chair.
-Since when are we doing what the inmates command us to do, Soare? Are you getting bored here and want to go back to the regiment?
Forgetting that I was there too, Soare snapped reflexively in the position at attention and shouted:
-No, Comrade Commander, I made a mistake, but it won’t happen again!
-Alright, Soare,” said Farcaș, resuming his seat, Duly noted! You place Beșleagă in the same room with Gavrilă. You have a free bed there! Understood?
Soare snapped again to attention and shouted: -Understood, Comrade Major!
-Room 105, I said from my chair.
-Did you hear, Soare? Room number one hundred and five! You have a free bed there!
-Yes, Comrade Major, room number 105,” replied Soare automatically and turned on his heels, departing to give the bad news to Ciocan.
-Listen, Gavrilă,” the Commander said after Soare left, now the boy is in your care. You will take care of his re-education. You will be his mother, father, and beloved homeland. Understood?
-I will be like an older brother to him, Comrade Major!
-Brother or not, make sure I don’t hear that you two did something stupid, understood?
I left the major alone to count his money and exited the commandant's office.
I knew that after roll call, the next step for the newcomers would be the showers.
Their group was already gathering in the courtyard, each carrying the supplies they got from maintenance. Among them was Ionuț, unshorn and with his long hair flowing in the evening breeze.
The sun, which was about to set, was sending its last rays through the trees beyond the walls, bathing his tousled hair into a golden glow.
At that moment, he entered my soul. I was ready to save him. I knew what I had to do.
Ciocan was a primitive who acted on instinct, and his next move was easily predictable. To bring Ionuț into his circle, he had to first break him down.
I slipped in through the back door of the bathroom building, which at that hour was empty, and hid in the little closet where the brooms, buckets, and mops were kept. The bathroom door was slightly shorter than its frame, allowing me to peek out through the gap between them as if I was at the theater.
After about half an hour, the newcomers began to arrive in the shower room, dressed in their green prison underwear, each holding a worn white towel and a bar of cheap soap they had received from maintenance. I spotted Ionuț’s blonde head popping up among them.
Soon began the competition to use one of the four working hot showers, and the sound of the bathers voices, laughter, protests and swearing could be heard through the noise of running water along with the barked orders of the guards. Towards the end I also saw Ciocan with his round, bowling ball-like head, dressed in green underwear, sneaking, tiptoeing toward the showers.
One by one, the boys got dressed and began to return to the locker room, and only a group of four remained behind. Someone turned off the lights.
From the direction of the showers came several voices. Ciocan and his lackeys had cornered Ionuț, pushing him from one to the other.
He pleaded timidly with them, asking them to let him go, while they laughed and mocked him. Taking advantage of the distraction, I emerged stealthily from my hiding place and slipped behind the box of dirty towels.
Even in the dim light it was clear that Ionuț was becoming increasingly frightened. No matter how hard he tried to yell for help, his voice grew weaker.
Suddenly, Ciocan pushed him in the chest with his hands, causing him to stumble and fall, but Crăciun caught him in mid-air and threw him back.
I felt pity for him, but he needed to learn his lesson.
They continued to toss him around, shouting and laughing, until he grew dizzy and could no longer stand on his feet.
At that moment I sprang from my hiding place and delivered a swift, sharp jab to Crăciun's ribs; who was not expecting this, as he was busy watching eagerly what was going to happen to Ionuț.
Crăciun doubled over in pain, and I stepped around him and threw a punch into Cocean's plexus, who had unwarily turned sideways, facing me.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Ciocan who, furious that I had spoiled his fun, was rushing toward me with his fists raised like a bull that had seen red.
I calmly stepped aside and tripped him, causing Ciocan to spin in the air and crash to the ground with a loud thud that shook the floor, after which, sliding on the soap trails left behind by the bathers, he glided across the cement floor as if he was on skating ice, until with another thud he stopped with his head against the opposite wall of the hall and lay on the floor, motionless, groaning.
I walked over there, leaned over him, grabbed him by the hair with my right hand, and slammed his head against the ground.
Bang! -Hey, Ciocane, I said, how many times do I have to tell you this boy is my cousin?
Bang, bang! -Aw, let me go, chief, I’m stupid and didn’t understand.
Bang! -How, are you?
-I’m stupid.
Bang, bang! -I didn’t hear you; louder!
-I’m stupid! yelled Ciocan.
-Did you hear, guys?
-We heard, chief, said Cocean from the showers, let him be, we won’t do it again!
I released Ciocan and sniffed my hand disgustedly. -Hey, Ciocane, when you go under the showers, you should also wash your head, because you stink!
-I washed it yesterday in the basin, said Ciocan in a weak voice.
-Then, hey, Ciocane, at least change the water!
From the showers came back a giggle.
-Get out of my sight now!
Ciocan and his lackeys staggered up from the ground the best they could and made their way toward the exit slowly, moaning in pain.
I returned to Ionuț, who was sitting on the floor under the shower, water flowing over him.
His head was hung low, and he held his knees in his arms, shivering from head to toe. He was petrified with fear.
I bent down, grabbed him carefully at the armpits and lifted him, but he wasn’t able to stand on his feet.
I let the let the water clear the soap off of him, held him upright with one arm and turned off the water.
-It’s over, Ionuț, I said gently, they’re gone!
He continued to tremble and didn’t seem to hear me.
-Hold me by the neck! I said firmly and scooped him up in my arms. Ionuț wrapped his arms around my neck, and thus we headed toward the locker room.
He had not yet recovered from his fright, and although I tried to encourage him, he continued to shiver and seemed to be utterly shocked. His green eyes were dilated with fear, and his wet blonde hair hung down disorderly over his face. While I carried him, he kept looking around in fear, and his slender body, tense as a bow, hung heavily in my arms.
When we reached the empty locker room, I sat him on the bench and rubbed him all over with a dry towel.
Ionuț was struggling to speak and articulated with difficulty: -Thhhank you Mmmister Ggavrilă!
I dressed him in the jumping suit provided by maintenance and exited into the bath hall holding him around the waist as if he was a weakling. The fat, lazy bath assistant looked at us dumbfounded, but didn’t say anything.
Outside the sky was darkening, and the snitches roamed everywhere. Ionuț was walking slowly, bowed down, holding on to me. We walked between them ignoring the malevolent looks and their perfidious low voice comments and headed toward the dorm.
As we entered the hall his legs gave way again and I had to raise him up.
I carried him in in my arms like a child, entered my room, kicked the door closed and deposed him on the lower bunk. However, he could not lie down; he sat on the edge of the bed, shivering as if he had been taken out of a freezer.
I placed a blanket over him and pulled out the bottle of rum I had hidden for special occasions.
After unscrewing the leg of the nightstand, I took out a small tube with tiny diazepam tablets and, after pausing to think for a moment, pulled out two, dropped them into a small glass and filled it with rum. I shook it, and the pills dissolved immediately. I sat down next to him on the bed and offered him the rum.
Ionuț was not used to hard drinks, and at first he choked on it and coughed, but after he relaxed, he managed to down it. I poured myself a shot, filled his glass again, and we toasted. “Cheers!”
The strong alcohol began to make its effect and Ionuț recovered somewhat from his state of shock, but he was still stammering.
-P-please forgive me, D-Domnu Ggavrilă, for rejecting you when you wanted to help me! You are a g-great man! I d-don't understand people very well. Please don't hold it against me!
-Don’t apologize, Ionuț, I said seriously. It’s normal to be cautious in a place like this. You can be attacked when you least expect it.
My remark brought back the memories of what had happened and it made him grimace in horror.
-B-but why did they attack me? W-what do they want from me?”
-When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Do you know how handsome you are? They just want to take advantage of you and make you their servant.
-Domnu Ggavrilă, I beg you to help me. You are my savior!
-Alright, Ionuț, you can rest assured. You almost got placed in a room with Ciocan, but the commander entrusted you to me. Everyone thinks you are my cousin because that’s what I told them, but actually I will be like an older brother to you. This is my room, and from now on, it will be yours too. You will sleep in the bottom bunk, and I will watch over you from the top. And because you are my younger brother, you can call me by my first name: Marius.
I knew he was hungry and pulled out the plate I had set aside, sliced the bread and cheese, and gave him the pieces to eat along with a cup of cold tea.
He was indeed starving and gobbled them down gratefully.
-You are safe here with me, I told him, but among the others, you need to be cautious. Don’t talk to them no matter how much they’re trying to tempt you. Respond only with yes and no. I’ll keep an eye on you from a distance, but I cannot do you any favors!
Ionuț was looking at me with his expressive green eyes, trying to say something, but his tongue stumbled. I had no idea how much he understood of what I was telling him.
I laid him down on his bed, covered him with the blanket and raised up to leave, but he pulled me by the sleeve toward him, pleading with a trembling voice: “P-please stay a little longer until I fall asleep!”
I sat by his side, watching over him until he loosened up and his breathing became deep and regular.
When he fell asleep, I climbed up to my bunk and tried to fall asleep too, but the weight of the responsibility I had taken with him kept me restless, and sleep was slow to come.
I didn’t sleep well that night, and when the wake-up call rang, I was already on my feet.
Ionuț was sleeping soundly, and I had to shake him by the shoulder. “Wake up, Ionuț, we have a long day ahead!
He struggled to wake up and sat groggily on the edge of the bed, his blonde hair completely disheveled.
I heated water in the kettle with the electric coil and offered him a cup of sweetened instant coffee, which he drank gratefully.
-Domnu Marius, what did you put in my rum last night?
-Nothing, just a diazepam. You were stressed.
-And from one diazepam, I feel so dizzy?
-Alright, I gave you two. You were very stressed.
-I slept well. Thank you for staying with me until I fell asleep.
-Well, Ionuț, I care for you like a brother, but once we leave this room, you will be like a stranger to me.
Today, you are on my cleaning team. I will assign you to clean the bathrooms. I will treat you harshly and hurry you along. Stay near me, but don’t get too close, do not address me, and don’t try to touch me.
If you do not do what I tell you to do and don’t listen to me, I will be forced to slap you across the face.
It will break my heart, but I will have to do it, because otherwise, I will lose all authority.
All eyes are on us. Everyone is wondering why I took you in. How come I did you such a favor?
Many want to know what happens between us because there are many here who have to write informative notes.
What you don’t know yet is that my uncle is Colonel Gavrilă from Rm. Vâlcea office of State Security.
He has taught me everything I know about martial arts and has helped me get everything I needed here.
He knows I have asked to live alone and will not be pleased to find out that I took a companion. If he takes his hands off me, it would be bad for us. I have many enemies.
To get ahead of them though, I will send him a message and explain that I felt pity for you and told the commander that you are my cousin.
I don’t know if he’ll believe that I only wanted to do a good deed or I had other motives that could be suspected, and I don’t know how he will react to the news, but he knows what life is about in prison and has some tolerance for certain aspects. Fortunately, he has complete confidence in me and knows that I have dignity, personal integrity, and a moral sense of duty. However, I do not know if he will approve the changes.
Ciocan is stubborn and will try to attack you again. The first failure has taught him nothing.
Țurcanu from block two is more reasonable, but Ciocan, who is the boss here, is crazy enough to want to disrupt the peace. But his time has passed. He has lived his life and eaten his fill. I have already thought of a replacement for him.
-Who?
-That tall, quiet guy who came with you on the bus.
-Marc?
-Yes, he has leadership qualities, and I believe I’m not mistaken about him. He will make for a good boss at our block.
There was much more to say, but the guard's baton hitting the door made us both jump, and we left the room to go to the morning roll call and to the canteen for breakfast.

TWO
Marc was waiting for me, seated on the referee's bench by the football field. He had probably arrived ten minutes early to inspect the place I had suggested.
We shook hands, and he grinned at me:
-Nine months for speculation with jeans from Turkey, eh?
-Yes, I replied with a smile, I was trying to save money for a car. And you?
-Poker, he said cheerfully. I cleaned out the son of the first secretary of Brașov County at a poker game, and his father wanted the judge to make an example out of me. A year in the pen for illegal gambling and financial fraud.”
-You were studying Law, right? It seems like you didn’t quite grasp the functioning principle of class struggle.
-Neither you, the leading principles of socialist economy.
We both laughed for a while, and Marc asked me, -How's Ionuț doing? Rumor has it he’s very fond of you, and you of him.
-Exaggerations! We’re like brothers. Our relationship is as platonic and pure as the snows of Kilimanjaro; but let’s not talk about that anymore, Marc!
-What I want to say is that it would be good to give the jackals something else to talk about, so that they take their eyes off of you both at least for a while.
-Exactly, Marc. I like how you think, and that’s why we’re here. I’ve been observing you for two weeks since you arrived, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you have leadership qualities.
Especially considering your remarkable ability to extract important information from Maria with some well-placed compliments and using your personal appeal. For example, I noticed that she uses her perfume, Red Moscow, more often when you’re around. At forty years old, she’s still pretty attractive, and she’s very sensitive to your masculine charms.
-Ha, ha, ha! Point aimed at, point hit!
-I appreciate your social skills and your spontaneous humor, as long as I’m not the target of your jokes.
-Thank you, Marius, I appreciate you too. I’ve long learned that you can’t become smart unless you play against someone smarter than you.
-That seems to be a risky statement, given that you’re here precisely because of an excess of intelligence!
-Ha, ha, ha! Isn’t it ironic how fate tests us on how much someone can bear upon his shoulders in this life?
-That’s true, especially if the suffering is self-inflicted! However, there are some who believe that fates owe them everything and they take whatever they want without asking anyone.
-If you’re referring to Ciocan, I believe the exact same fate who gave him everything, will soon take it all away. Are you familiar with the Greek concept of hubris?
-You never cease to amaze me, Marc! Not only are our minds aligned, but your intuition is spot on. Yes, Ciocan has jumped the horse, and his fate is sealed. We just need to help him do it to himself. We need a new boss in block one, and you will be the one. I’ve already talked with the commander, and he agrees in principle.”
-Why don’t you take the position? You’re in the same block as him and have the most experience.
-The thing with the blocks doesn’t matter. I don’t need to be in the spotlight all the time, and I operate best from the shadows. As for you, I believe you’ve had enough time living under Țurcanu’s thumb, and for his part, he would give anything to see you gone.
Everyone knows that Țurcanu isn’t the sharpest pencil in the box. You’re too smart for him and he doesn’t want to play against you.
But your value lies elsewhere. You’ve studied Law, and we need a legal expert.
-Baffled, Marc wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t finished my second year, and I haven’t even gotten to the end of the Roman Law course!
-Only that this place with its gladiators, slave masters, and violators is organized exactly upon the military model of ancient Rome. You’re in the best position to gain all the legal experience you desire.
-Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Marc. So, I’ll be General Marcus Antonius. Who will then be Cleopatra?
-I wouldn’t want to divert the discussion to the topic of love, but I’m sure she will present herself to you at the right time! You will only have to choose wisely, because you know how their story ended. I don’t think you want to throw yourself on your own sword!”
-Well said! I subscribe to that, but you can never be too careful when it comes to affection; just look at yourself!
-Marc, I’m convinced you’ve learned from your studies that discretion is the most important part of valor. Therefore, let’s be discreet!
-Using all the discretion I can muster, why did they give Ionuț a year? It doesn’t seem to me that he’s capable of doing anything that would justify such a punishment.
-It's a sad story. This spring, he was on vacation for the first time in the mountains with his school, at a camp in Bușteni. Everything was fine and he was friends with everyone, except for a little gypsy boy from another school who was picking on him.
One day the group was called up for a trip to the mountains, going to the cabin of Piatra Arsă, only, Ionuț who wasn’t feeling well, had stayed behind. He was sleeping in his bed when he suddenly woke up to being jumped by the young gypsy boy. Ionuț had a spring knife under his pillow that his brother Vasile had given him, and he pulled it out to defend himself, but the little Roma boy grabbed his fist.
-Do you know how to use it, little one? Hand it over because I need it!
Ionuț twisted to escape from his grasp, and the boy’s hand flipped up, causing the knife to stab him in the abdomen. The gypsy boy started to scream, holding his stomach, but blood was gushing between his fingers. Ionuț rushed to the reception and they called for an ambulance. That evening, the police came to arrest him for attempted murder. The Roma boy’s father visited him the next day in police custody and shouted at him:
-You bastard! Do you know what you have done? I am the chief of the gypsy community of Craiova, and I have lots of money to burn! I’ll bury you for this!
No one took his side except for his brother, who told him he did well to want to defend his honor.
-Poor Ionuț!
-I hope I’ve completed the info you have about him, beside to the details you skillfully extracted from Mrs. Maria.
-It’s truly sad! It was an accident. And he has been served a great injustice.
-Now you understand better why I care for him?
-Yes, indeed! And now for the practical part. How do you want us to deal with Ciocan?
-I won’t touch him, but Ciocan has a heel of Achilles. Think about it; what could make him ask for himself to be transferred out of here?
-I don’t think he’ll do it if you ask him, but the only thing that could break him would be if he were proved to be passive.
-Exactly, Marc! Ciocan acts like a lion in front of everyone, but he is actually a homo. Occasionally, he jumps the fence at night and meets with his cronies in the grove by the stream for a party of drinking. It’s an exclusive club. They all wear ski masks. If his servants knew what he was doing, they’d beat him up badly.
-Do you know when the next party is?
-No, but I’ll find out soon.
-And then we’ll discreetly show up among them in the shadows. I hope we won’t have to do what they do.
-Under no circumstances, and if anyone tries anything, I’ll break their face!
-Ha, ha, ha! Good plan. We just need a flash camera, and we can sell the photos to the newspaper!
-The commander has one in his safe, and he’ll lend it to us on the condition we return it intact. He didn’t ask what we need it for. Do you have a ski mask?
-No, but I’m sure you can get two.
-Consider it done.
-Perfect! I can’t wait for you to invite me to a party.
-It's not exactly my kind of party, but it will be Ciocan's farewell party.
-By the way, Marc said, there’s a guy at your block named Boștină, a.k.a. Găină, tall, skinny, and with a crooked nose, who quite amazed me a few days ago.
-Yes, I know Boștină; he’s a bit slow, and because he knows that he avoids talking too much. He understood long ago that it’s better to be silent and be considered a fool than to open your mouth and remove any doubt.
-Well, imagine that I, who don’t smoke, treated him to a cigarette, and out of gratitude, he pulled me aside and whispered:
-Mr. Marc, do you know what they call Marius Gavrilă?
-What do they call him, Boștină?
-They call him The Enforcer, and I coined his nickname!
-Where did you come up with that, Boștină?
-You know, I saw an American movie on tape, and that’s what it was called.
-But do you know what it means?
-No!
When I explained it to him, he got scared, pulled my sleeve, and said:
-Please don’t tell him about this Mr. Marc, because I’m a bit afraid of him.
-Ha, ha, ha! I’m flattered!
Please, Marc, after you take over the chief position, give Boștină a day off from work on my behalf, for this intellectual effort. Who knows? Maybe that will encourage some of those who can still read to ask for books from the library.
In this way, we could actually contribute to their reeducation.
THREE
I was in my bunk, taking a nap when Ionuț stormed into the room, climbed up the post, and jumped over me in bed like a child.
-Marius, Marius, I saw Ciocan and Crăciun with handcuffs on their wrists, being escorted to the transport bus to take them away to Tg. Jiu. Hooray! We got rid of them!
-I know, Ionuț, I said, holding him a bit farther away from me; they hid all night somewhere and this morning at the first hour they showed up at the command post to ask for their transfer. As I advised him, the Commander put handcuffs on them and locked them up until the bus arrived. Everybody was looking for them in the dorms, wanting to lynch them.
-But how did you do that?
I explained how, taking advantage of the darkness, Marc and I snuck with bottles in hand to the place where Ciocan and Crăciun were hiding behind a bush.
-You should have seen his expression when I ripped off the mask from his face, and Marc blinded him with the flash! Everyone scattered instantly like partridges in different directions, only Ciocan remained rooted there as if the sky had fallen on him. Meanwhile, Crăciun had taken off, running.
Ionuț was laughing hysterically. -What? He tried to run away?
-Yes, and he tripped and fell flat. Ionuț was holding his stomach with both hands: -Ha, ha, ha!
-But the funniest part is we didn’t have enough time to get the film. There’s no evidence of the crime.
If Ciocan had known, he would have laughed in our faces.
The commander was stunned when the two showed up at his place the next day, just as I had predicted, at the first hour. He hasn’t asked me anything about it yet, which means he learned the truth from other sources. The rest is history.
Ionuț rushed to cover me in praise
-You’re the smartest man in the world! You’re Superman!
-Ionuț, I said, holding him a bit farther away, don’t exaggerate! In a few days, August 23rd is coming, and they’ll give out one day permissions to some of us.
We’ll also get one for good behavior. By the way, uncle is pleased and even pleasantly surprised, about the way I’ve been handling you. Thanks to our restraint, the jackals couldn’t tarnish us.
We’ll go to Râmnic, and your family can meet you there.
In the evening you can come to my place and meet Marieta. I’m sure you’ll like her. She’ll be like a mother to you. Uncle will have something to laugh about when he hears about this, and from that moment on, he will have no more doubts.
Go to block two now to thank Marc. You were only able to get rid of Ciocan due to his help.
Congratulate him, because he is now our new capo. The boys have organized a party in his honor.
-A party? How nice! Let’s go!
-You’re going alone. My role in this matter must remain obscure.
Be discreet. Don’t stay long and don’t drink anything they’ll offer you.
Is that clear? Now go!

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

FIVE
This time it was my turn to go to a meeting arranged by Marc.
To make it more conspiratorial, he had sent me a coded message: ITIPLACEFOTBALUL1OM, which someone slipped under my plate at breakfast.
In translation, it read: -We’ll meet at the bench by the soccer field at 10 in the morning. Marc.
When I arrived, he was already standing by our bench. He shook my hand saying:
-Let’s take a small walk!
We walked along the edge of the running track, ignoring the two or three busybodies who suddenly got the idea to stroll behind us.
-Congratulations on your new position, Marc! You’ve risen in a day as much as others do in a year!
-Yes, and I’ve inherited a hornet’s nest. Thank you, but no thanks.
-At least no one can accuse you of being an upstart. Think about it; you’ll have the Commander’s ear!
-Yes? And what am I supposed to do with it? I think it’s clogged with wax because he hears nothing. It’s easier to move mountains than to get Kneaz Farkaș personally involved in solving a problem.
-Welcome to our club!
-I think he either doesn’t want to hear me or he’s really deaf!
-No, he hears very well, but only what suits him. The medical name for this deficiency is selective hearing loss.
-Thanks for the theoretical part of the lesson, but I’d prefer some valuable advice!
-Excuse me; do you think I’m the Genius of the Carpathians?
You’ve accepted the position; you’re now Marcus Antonius! Benefits come hand in hand with the job.


-And the major?
-He’s stalling and guarding his pension. And you will do the same forty years from now.
-I doubt I’ll still be around here by then, but we better focus onto the present problems. I’m stuck at the rail.
I encountered stiff resistance right from the first day. None of them want to do what I tell them. They just nod acquiescingly and go on about their business.
Ciocan kept his flock in line only through terror. Some are still limping due to the blunt arguments he was using.
Only, I don’t know how to use violence. The vast majority don’t even have the mental fortitude to listen to reason and believe my arrival has brought them total freedom.
-Yes, the freedom of anarchy. Maybe we should let them throw a few bricks through the commandant’s window right when Farcaș is comfortably sipping his morning coffee.
-So that he has a reason to call in the special forces of the Security? Do you think we need to have the unit militarized? You know perfectly well that any act of rebellion on the eve of the great holiday of August 23 would be considered terrorism against the state! Do you want to see the prison of Jilava from the inside?

-Ho, ho, ho, Marc, hold your horses; did the boys stress you so much that you lost your sense of humor?
Do you think I don’t want to go on leave? Of course not. But there are alternatives. Marc stopped walking.
-I’m interested in hearing about it!
-Think about it! How can oppose you a group of 100 or 120 ignorant, uneducated juveniles, hovering on the brink of illiteracy, who are functioning based on herd instinct alone, aiming solely at satisfying their basic needs?
-One hundred and sixteen!
-Correct, but what unites them?
Marc slapped his forehead. -They’re organized!
-Exactly, Marc, I’m proud of you!
-So, all I have to do is eliminate the organizers!
-That would be a bit too radical. Stalin-like. Rather, try to reeducate them!
-Of course! I misspoke. I need to identify the heads of the resistance and bring them the true light.
-Rather make them an offer they can’t refuse!
-Perfect, Don Corleone, but how?
-Marc, have you ever heard of the gang of the four radicals?
-Yes! Weren’t those the three top members of the Chinese Communist Party who, together with Mao’s widow, were eliminated after the Cultural Revolution’s leader passed away?
-You’re perfectly informed. Radio Free Europe?
-No, Voice of America!
By the way, do you know how a security officer responds to the traditional greeting “Christ is risen!”?
-I’ve been informed!
-Voice of America?
-No, Radio Free Europe!
We both laughed for a while, and then he asked me:
-Why the gang of four radicals?
-Have you heard of the club of the four horses?
-No.
-I think it’s time to diversify your sources of information. Maria has her limits.
-OK, I’m all ears.
-I’m going to tell you the names of the four horses, but I think it would be good for you to sit down.
Marc waved his hand impatiently. -You’re keeping me on tenterhooks!
-Hold on tight! Their names are Suru, Murgu, Roibu, and Bălan!
Marc’s face fell. -But they’re all on my block!
-Aha! The moment of truth!
Well, they are the organizers of the resistance.
As incredible as this is, these members of the steed farm have recognized their name affiliation and rallied around it like the Vlachs around the eagle with a cross in its beak. It’s a sort of secret society of illiterates, only with rules and secret oaths like the Masons.
-You’ve left me speechless! How do you know all this?
-Simple logical deduction, my dear Watson! Now do you know what you have to do?
-Dear Sherlock, I feel like hugging you and kissing you on the cheek!
-I wouldn’t advise you to do it!
-Perfect! I’ll call them in and talk to them. But what offer could I make to them?
-Very simple. They either tone down their confrontation, or you’ll introduce them to The Enforcer!
-Ha, ha, ha! Genius! Everyone has heard of how you demolished Ciucă Măciucă, and fear has entered into their bones.
-And judging by the number of busybodies who are following us now, they may conclude that arrangements have already been made!
-Ha, ha, ha! Do you know what the bartender asks the horse that walks into his bar and sits down sadly at the counter?
-No.
-Friend, why that long face?
-Ha, ha, ha! Just look at the faces of your horses after you put your cards on the table!
-By the way, speaking of bars, you should know that my party was a success. They drank all my drinks and even discovered my reserves.
-Aha!, Gone is “La Reserva del Dueño”!
Marc looked at me puzzled.
-It’s the name given by Mexicans to a bottle of expensive and hard-to-get Tequila. “The Master’s Reserve.”
-My respect, Enforcer! You’re a polyglot!
-Judging by the stench emanating from Ciucă, your tequila wasn’t made from agave but from rotten plums.
-What can I do? That’s all my wallet could afford, but speaking of Ciucă, your boy had quite a chat with him. They looked like two intimate friends.
-That explains why he came barging in on us at the bathroom, to see Ionuț naked. I didn’t deign to explain to him that that’s my privilege.
-Yes, poor Ciucă is still holding himself by the neck. You’d think he has testicolis.
-Torticollis, and that’s the result of the reeducation I gave him.
-You won’t believe me, but I saw him at the library with three books in front of him. It looks like reeducation is working.
-Yes, and I also received a list of the illiterates from Mihăiță.
Wouldn’t you be willing to introduce them to the works of Eminescu and Arghezi?
-Glossa? -Zdreanță? Cățeluș cu părul creț? I think that’s too advanced for them!
-No, they know the rhyme about stealing the duck from the coop from their kindergarten years but maybe you should start with the alphabet.
-The stables of Augias? Who do you think I am? Hercules?
-I see you’re an expert in Greek mythology, but have you heard of Socrates?
-That ugly one with a short nose who liked boys and ended up being poisoned?
-Exactly, but he was also a great philosopher, and through his dialogues, the greatest educator of ancient Greece. He’s the one who said: “I know that I know nothing!” Many generations have admired him. Think about how you will leave here with the title of emeritus professor and the love of all the rogues!
-As to love, I prefer women, but maybe what you say has some merit.
Marcus Antonius Praefectus Maximus! Sounds good!
-Okay, so I will organize your school; the four horses will be class supervisors, and you will be the director. Don’t let the empty titles go to your head!
I will act discreetly and drop by to inspect the class from time to time.
-And the leadership?
-Herr Farkaș will be more than happy to give his stamp of approval and boast about his merits in reeducating the prisoners, and our reward will be in heaven.
-Amen! Can I enroll Ionuț too?
-Ionuț was already studying the classics of Romanian literature in ninth grade, before he changed his residence, so I’ll lend him to you as an auxiliary professor. On the condition that you keep an eye on him.
-Which one? The left or the right?
-The one with which you see him if he strays from the straight path.
-Deal!

SIX
I was dozing off, sinking into the pleasant world of sleep when a glittering blue butterfly with a green body and yellow, fluttering wing edges, like from the Amazon jungle, landed on my nose, and started walking back and forth on it with its little orange feet.
I swatted at it a few times to chase it away, but it stubbornly returned to my nose every time.
A powerful sneeze overcame me, and I opened my eyes.
Marieta, completely naked, was lying next to me, with her generous breasts spread across my chest, tickling my nose with a goose feather that had escaped from the pillows during our frolics.
She was watching me amused with her beautiful blue eyes, laughing so hard at my confusion that her long blonde hair was bouncing on her shoulders.
A year ago, after I had courted her fervently and we started dating, all my friends envied me and wanted to know where I had found this gorgeous Nordic girl.
I had indeed been incredibly lucky to find her and for her to love me.
I was crazy about her.

-Marius, you silly boy, she said, „I think prison suits you because your performance has doubled in quality! “
-But you haven’t been any the less, I told her. Just look at the condition you’ve brought me to!
We were both exhausted and sweaty after enjoying the best lovemaking we ever had.
-If you had been as devoid of comforts as I was, you would understand why I performed beyond your expectations. I missed you! But you, have you been faithful to me?
-You have no idea how many suitors of Râmnic are following me, but the only one I think about is you!
For the last three months I’ve only known about work and home.
-I love you, Marieta, and as soon as I get out of there I want to marry you!
Marieta rushed at me: -Let’s make love!
-Marieta, are you crazy? I have not a shred of hatred left in me!
Marieta remembered the joke about hatred and started laughing.
Wait, Marius, let me tell you a good one!
Do you know what the wife says to her husband during intercourse?
-No.
-Traian, we need to paint the ceiling again!
-Ha, ha, ha, you’re right; it would be better for me to paint the house before we get married.
After we played around a bit more, Marieta asked me a bit more seriously:
-Marius, what’s up with that kid, Ionuț?
-What’s up?
-While we were in your uncle’s car, he was only looking at you. He was looking at you captivated.
He looked like a duckling I saw on TV, who follows a cat because it thinks it’s its mommy.
I shrugged my shoulders incredulously.
-I practically saved him from death. A defenseless, nice boy like him would be quickly destroyed in that place. It’s no vacation camp.
You would have read about him in the newspaper that he hanged himself; no one knows why.
-And what have you done for him?
-I did what I wouldn’t have done for anyone. I took him under my protection. Did I tell you that I managed to stay alone in a double bed room? Well, I took him in with me!
I briefly told Marieta the sad story of Ionuț, and she hugged me sweetly:
-Marius, you’re an angel!
-An angel who lives in hell!
I talked to uncle, and maybe he’ll get involved a bit to help him.
The judge was biased, and his lawyer didn’t even ask the most obvious question: “If it was an attempted murder, what was the boy doing in Ionuț’s bed when he was sick?”
-And where is he now?
-Uncle took him to the bus station to see his older brother Vasile, who also came today from Moldova. It will be a very emotional reunion, with many tears. I invited Ionuț to come over here tonight. He has nowhere to sleep.
-He can sleep here. I’ll give him one of your pajamas. I need to cook something. Poor thing must be hungry. Go and do some shopping!
-Where should I go? Today is August 23, and all the grocery stores are closed; but look at what’s in the fridge.
Marieta got out of bed naked and went to the fridge.
She opened the door and I heard her exclaiming: -Marius, here’s half of the Party’s household store!
I rushed over there too. Indeed the fridge was crammed.
-Hooray! We’re saved! I’m as hungry as a wolf too! I embraced her and we started dancing around the kitchen, laughing. Marieta got dizzy first.
-Marius, you silly, let me go because I need to get to work!
After checking the fridge again with dinner on her mind, Marieta, like a conscientious wife, started making plans.
-I’m going to make eight chicken schnitzels, pork roast, fried potatoes, French toast, and apple pie. There are about ten bottles of beer and two of wine.
For appetizers, we have white bread, salami, Prague ham, and sliced cheese.
What more can I say, we can throw a party for ten people!
-Perfect, and if you make us some sandwiches from what’s left, we can take them with us tomorrow. Please take the rest home with you.
You have the key and can come here whenever you want, but don’t forget that our little nest of frolics is only for the two of us.
-Of course. How do you think someone could enter here when they have to pass by the door of Gică, the pensioner from the ground floor which is always ajar? I think he has a direct line to the colonel, don’t you think?
-Ha, ha, ha! That’s right! Your feminine intuition never fails!
But before you start cooking, come back to bed for a bit, because your friend has woken up, and we better get busy.
Ionuț and his brother Vasile arrived at about seven in the evening. They were very happy. Uncle had driven them to the countryside, to visit the fortified mansions of Măldărești.
They were visibly impressed by his kindness and spoke about him as if he were God.
He had listened carefully to the story of Ionuț’s sufferings and had promised them to do everything possible to see that the judicial errors in his case would be investigated by the competent authorities.
We all sat down at the table and feasted on the food from the Party’s Household.
Vasile was telling us stories about his four boys and about Ionuț’s childhood.
-He is the youngest in the family; he’s the smallest of seven brothers, and we all love him like the apple of our eye. He has just been admitted to high school, and now we don’t know what’s going to happen to his life.
We’re from Bosanci, a village located a few kilometers south of Suceava.
Our dad died in an accident two years ago, and if something bad happens to Ionuț, our poor mom will die of grief too.
May God keep you in His care, Mr. Marius, for you have shown him mercy and protected him!
Visibly embarrassed by Vasile’s stories, Ionuț was looking at me, trying to assess my reaction, and nibbling sparingly on some food.
-Mr. Vasile, I said, should I understand that only boys are born in your family?
Vasile laughed heartily. -You’re right, Mr. Gavrilă, that’s what has happened so far. But we really want to have a little baby girl and my wife is pregnant again. Maybe we’ll be lucky this time.
At eight thirty, Vasile left for the train station to catch the last train to Bucharest, and we cleared the table and prepared for bed.
Marieta was taking care of Ionuț like a mother, making sure he wasn’t lacking anything, while he kept looking at me with his loving little eyes, as if asking for my approval. After she sent him to the bathroom to shower, we consulted and decided to put him to bed on the sofa.
I was awakened by the smell of coffee. Real Brazilian coffee. Marieta was fully dressed and was pouring coffee into cups from a blue porcelain teapot.
On the middle pillow of the sofa was a clumsily written note: “I went to the station”
We sat at the table to drink our coffee. Marieta was very serious.
-Marius, we need to talk about Ionuț! Something is not right with this boy. He barely ate, and didn’t drink anything. He’s too attached to you, and that’s not normal. Why?
I shrugged. What could I answer?
-I haven’t offered him anything, just a bed in my room to get him out of danger.
He’s fragile and in great danger.
I keep an eye on him from a distance, but I don’t do him any favors because everyone is watching me, and it would be interpreted immediately. That’s why I also started the rumor that we’re cousins.
Marieta looked directly into my eyes and asked me:
-Are you fond of him?
Yes, you could say so, but like an older brother.

SEVEN
During our two and a half-hour train journey from Rm. Vâlcea to Mioveni station, Ionuț sat curled up in a corner of the compartment, grumpy, with his arms crossed, looking ahead morosely.
He was responding monosyllabically to my questions, and I decided to leave him to his thoughts.
We arrived at the campus at 2:45, fifteen minutes before the deadline expired.
Ionuț headed straight for the dormitory and lay down on his bed with his eyes closed.
I unpacked and went to the command post office to see if I had any messages.
I didn’t have any. On my way back, I bumped into Marc.
-Hello, Mister Gavrilă, nice meeting you!
-Hi, Marc. Looks like you’ve been studying Leon Levitzki’s manual “Learn English Without a Teacher.”
Did Măciucă recommend it to you?
-Of course! He flipped through it and couldn’t find the word Enforcer.
-It’s American slang. Levitzki was educated in British English.
-You’re baffling me again with your cosmopolitanism!
-Forget about that; better tell me how you spent the great holiday. Let’s sit down!
We sat on the bench in front of the post office.
-Sitting in front of the TV like old women at home. I was surrounded by my disciples, who watched the marching columns of the military with great interest. I had turned the volume up to maximum and some of them almost jumped out of their seats when the Mig-15s flew thunderously over the official podium where the chiefs of the various departments of the Party were sitting below an immense portrait of the supreme leader.
After watching the columns of armored vehicles, most juveniles decided they wanted to join the army too, to be able to ride in a tank or armored military vehicle.
The next parade involved the sportsmen and women from the various sporting clubs in the Capital and in the country, each wearing the uniforms and carrying the implements specific to their sport.



During the interminable workers’ demonstration, they got bored and went out for a cigarette.
At the canteen, everyone received an extra portion of sausages and a bottle of warm beer, to feel that it was a holiday. How was your reunion with your girlfriend?
-The best sex I’ve ever had. Thanks to my uncle, dinner was delicious. It’s a pity you couldn’t be there.
Marc moved closer to me, sniffing the air with his nostrils raised.
-Mm…what a delicious perfume! French. And very expensive. Let me think!
I know it! Fidji! The creation of French perfumer Guy Leroche from 1966, who tried to replicate the exquisite scent of flowers from the Fiji Islands. Superb!
-Correct Marc! I gave Marieta a bottle of Fidji perfume as a gift this year on her birthday.
-And how does the girl look like? Blonde, with blue eyes and big breasts?
-Marc, do you really want to annoy me?
-What can I do? I’m daydreaming.
-Better take care to find Cleopatra. I know her.
She’s a Greek girl from Egypt with olive skin, black hair, black eyes, and a rather large nose.
Expert in making love to Roman generals.

Marc sighed and waved his hand. -And Ionuț?
-He met with his brother, Vasile. Uncle took them for a walk and listened to their woes. Very kind of him. I wasn’t expecting it.
-Can’t you lend him to me for a bit?
-Who, Ionuț?
-No, the uncle.
-Why? Don’t you have an uncle?
-Sure I do, but he didn't move a finger when they picked me up. It's true that I cleaned him up a bit financially too. Professional deformation, I admit; but we’re relatives, and it wasn’t right for him to hold that as a grudge against me.
-Aha! So, this is the best example of a zero-sum game."
-Of what?
-The zero-sum game is a mathematical concept pertaining to the game theory, which is a branch of applied mathematics.
-And what does it postulate?
-By 'game' we understand a situation involving two or more decision-makers tasked with choosing a game strategy to maximize their gains resulting from their actions in relation to the actions of others.
-In simpler terms?
-In game theory, a zero-sum game describes a situation where one participant's gain is perfectly balanced by another participant's loss. In other words, any situation that functions as a zero-sum game implies that if the total sum of losses is subtracted from the total sum of gains, the result is zero. The opposite concept is a non-zero-sum game, where all participants gain.
For example, you took your uncle's money at a poker game, and he didn’t intervene to help you.
He let you go to prison so he wouldn’t lose any more money playing with you.
-Hmm, that doesn't really make sense!
-Yeah, your situation is a bit exaggerated if you consider the zero-sum property, but it's a good example of a Pareto Optimality.
-What’s that?
-This is an important concept in economics and international relations, described by the Italian economist Vilfredo Pareto. It refers to a state where no one’s status can be improved without deteriorating someone else's situation.
A concrete example is the game of poker. Gambling works this way because it doesn’t create added value, i.e. players gathered around the poker table are merely exchanging money among themselves, and do not create any product to be traded with the outside world. The added value of the game is zero, thus the total sum is zero, as one player's gain is balanced by the losses of other players."
-Exactly! That’s my theory too.
-Marc, your future is in a place called Las Vegas!
-Marius, do you really want to annoy me? I dream of it day and night! I heard Elvis sings there.


-Was singing! He died in 1977 due to obesity and stimulant drugs. But he was a musical genius. Many believe he’s still alive, and some have even seen him appearing in the windows of the White House. Kennedy has also been seen. There are pictures of them in the tabloids.
-Fakes! To live in America and be so naive! Incredible!"
-Of course, but the mother of fools is always pregnant. And she travels to all countries.
-Does she have an international passport?
-Of course she does! Didn’t she visit your home too?
-She might have, because my brother is kind of mentally defective. But as the fates willed it, he got a job in the merchant navy.
-Isn’t he smuggling in jeans from abroad?"
-Sure he is, but he has a solid network of distributors. All hailing from Constanța. They were probably the ones who denounced you! They don’t like competition.
I laughed sardonically.
-Yeah, I know, I know. Just like the state. That’s why thieves are in prison, because the state hates competition.
-Ha, ha, ha! Well said! How are you getting along with Ionuț?
I saw you two coming back to the campus, and you didn't seem to be on the best terms. I thought you were going to hold hands.
-Marc! Am I to understand that our meeting wasn’t entirely coincidental?
-Nothing is entirely coincidental, but while you were away, I took over some of your duties.
I need to learn from my betters.
-Do you have to write informative notes too?
-No! Fortunately, I haven’t been co-opted yet. I don’t present any interest to those who watch over the security of the state. I pretended I didn’t know how to write.
-Ha, ha, very funny!
Though, if you want to get to Vegas, you’ll have to convince them that you don’t understand the Romanian language at all.
-That will be harder to do after you promoted me to the position of school director.
-Weren’t you a career professor of the street three-cups game?
-No, but I am a professor of poker, so maybe they will send me to the casino in Sinaia.
-Maybe just to the monastery. Gambling was banned in 1948.
-A monastery of nuns?
-Don't anger God! Of monks. Do you know how to make rosaries?
-No, but I know how to crochet. I can make lace. My mom taught me when I was little.
-Then maybe your place is at the Folk Art section for the visually impaired.
-Great! That's why it’s said that in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king!
-I hope you won’t cut out one eye just to see if the proverb is true.
-No way, I need it to keep an eye on Ionuț. I take seriously the task you gave me.
-Speaking of Ionuț; I have to go because I don't know what else is going through his mind!
-Give him a hug from me!
-I shrugged and managed to take a few steps before Marc shouted after me:
-Marius, where is Fiji?
I shouted back over my shoulder:
-Tell Ciucă to get you the Geography manual from the library!
Ionuț was still in his bed where I had left him before, looking sadly at the ceiling.
-The bathroom is open Ionuț, I said; go and take a hot shower.
-Why should I go? I don’t need to bathe.
-What kind of talk is that Ionuț?
-Yes! You love her, but you don’t love me!
-Come on, Ionuț, are you five years old? Are you hardheaded? How many times do I have to tell you that she’s my girlfriend and my future wife? Marieta liked you very much, and you were rude to her. You only had eyes for me. She read you right away.
You’re acting like a duckling who follows a cat around because it believes it’s his mother.
That might be funny when you’re in kindergarten, but not at sixteen years old.
You’ve fixed your affections on me, but this will pass. One day we’ll laugh about this.
Ionuț said nothing and kept staring stubbornly up to the ceiling.
-Marieta asked me about this, and I told her I’m fond of you like a brother. She gave me an ultimatum to choose between you and her. And you’re not content with what you have?
Don’t you know how frail you are? If something were to happen to you here, your mother would die of grief.
Don’t you feel sorry for her?
Ionuț bent over as if he had received a blow below the belt and began to cry.
Through his sobs, he kept asking me in a weak voice:
-Why don’t you love me?
I pulled out the last two diazepams from the leg of the bedside table and Ionuț took them obediently.
Afterwards, I tucked him in his blanket and he cried quietly a little more until he fell asleep.

EIGHT
September brought the first drizzles and a cold wind blowing down from the mountains. The cold weather drove inside all the trouble makers who used to prowl in the yard.
My relationship with Ionuț had considerably cooled. We talked during the day without saying anything, and in the evening, each of us snuggled comfortably into our own beds.
It was amusing to watch how he tried to hurt me. I knew that his soul bled after every altercation, but he still made every effort to give me the impression that he was in control of the situation, but his eyes were giving away his self-imposed suffering.
I treated him equally, even though I missed his cheerful and affectionate demeanor, but I couldn’t let him drag us down further than we already were.
Access to the phone was restricted to occasional conversations with my uncle, but I was instead engaged in an intense correspondence with Marieta, who had finally accepted the idea that: one, I was not bisexual, and two, at the same time, I could not abandon Ionuț to a cruel fate.
I couldn’t do otherwise. There was no alternative. If I asked the commander to take him away, my whole house of cards would collapse.
At breakfast, I received another coded message from Marc via courier, which read: NUNUMAICUPÎINE12M.
I showed up at noon at the food warehouse, where the literacy school was held in one of its unused halls.
-How poetic, Marc! I said after we shook hands, you’re now quoting from the Gospel? Do you want to start a religion course too?
-No, he said grinning up to his ears, that wouldn’t do, because I can barely keep the boys in for the literacy course. We had to learn the musical alphabet:
"Abece, De, E, eF Ghe, no one other is like you,
Haș, I, Je, Ka Le Me Ne, at reeducation!
O, Pe, Qu, Re, Se, Te, U, you know all of them all by now!
And with Ve, X, Y Greek, Ze, you will make a sensation!
I clapped. – Bravo Mozart!
Perhaps we will soon have a youth choir to perform the famous aria of the Jewish slaves from Verdi's opera Nabucco. Or at least the last part of Victor Hugo's “Les Misérables: "Hear how the People Sing!"
-Ha, ha, ha! You overestimate me. My musical education stopped in fifth grade after I was assigned to play the Anthem of the Republic on my harmonica at the annual school concert.
-Did you sing out of tune?
-Yes! And it came out somehow like the "Long live the King" anthem.
-That’s funny!
I have some bad news for you though. Kneaz Farkaș has decreed that given your teaching skills, you will be temporarily appointed as the organizer of the Political Education hour.
-Oh dear! That’s not good at all!
I learned long ago that no task assigned from above is ever temporary, but it becomes permanent as soon as it is implemented. I never went to the political education course in college. I had a fail grade in Scientific Socialism. And now I have to study the classics of Marxism-Leninism because of this? I’d rather die!"
-I see that I have to save your life again! I care too much about you to let you die. Your problem is easy to fix.
-Marius, dear Marius, I know you won’t let me embrace you, but can I fall on my knees and kiss your hand?"
-But, what’s my hand? The relic of Saint Paraskeva? And besides, if you kneel before me, I will have to knight you, and I don’t have my sword with me!"
-Don’t make fun of me! Do you really have a solution?
-Think about it! If the major received a notice from our county’s Political Committee that political education has to be organized exclusively by a party member with political schooling, otherwise it’s considered to be a subversion of the theory and practice promoted from the highest levels of the Party and State?
-Then Farcaș would have an epiphany just like Pilate of Pont when the Jews shouted at him that he was not a friend of Caesar!
-Exactly, Marc! And the funny thing is, the letter would come from the secretary of the Political Executive Committee of the county, whose name is... hold on! Tiberiu Modrogan!"
-Please, let me hug you! I need it!
-Marc, stay in your seat! I have enough problems with Ionuț without being reported that I got tangled up with you too.
-What does Ionuț want from you anyway?
-I can’t tell you; or maybe I can, but then I’ll have to shoot you afterwards! Suffice to say that he got me in a bind with Marieta, but in the end, everything turned out well.
-Bravo! Everything is well when it ends well!
-We haven’t reached that end stage yet, but by the way, have you seen the newcomer who arrived the day before yesterday?
Ah yes! A tough guy from Transylvania.
Good-looking and full of himself; a kind of Ion of Glanetaș who doesn’t shy away from anything when it comes to achieving his goals.
-Didn’t they place him into your former spot at Țurcanu’s?
-Yes, and Țurcanu is scared to death that this guy could undermine him to take his cheddar cheese. You know, his two-bunk room, Farcaș's ear, etcetera.
-That wouldn’t be impossible to happen. Usually, you can’t escape what you most fear.
-I would feel sorry for him too; all in all, he’s an OK guy.
-Marc, do you know the difference between us and the Japanese?
-Besides the fact that they have slanted eyes and yellow skin?
-No, those are the Chinese, but from the management perspective.
-No idea!
-If someone over there makes a mistake, everyone gathers and only one question is asked: “How do we fix it?'"
-And the culprit?
-He immediately presents himself, bowing down to the ground and apologizing with maximum humility, after which he is isolated in a small office without windows.
But if someone makes a mistake here, a meeting is called, and what question is asked?"
-Who’s guilty?
-Exactly, Marc! All that Ion of Glanetaș has to do, is to create a problem for Țurcanu and then, to stand up during the gathering and ask the question.
-Marius, you are a fountain of wisdom!
-Better of wisdom than of horum harum!
Marc's eyes widened. -What?
-You are a teacher of Romanian language and you don’t know the famous line from Eminescu's Second Letter; probably the most obscure verse in all Romanian literature?"
-You got me!

-Allow me to re-educate you. It sounds:
“With their gentle quiet murmurs, muted source of horum harum,
Earning in their sluggish manner nervum rerum gerendarum."
-I didn't understand anything!
-That’s because you slept during your Latin class.
-Yeah; but for the kind of swamp Latin we were taught at “Iulia Hașdeu” high school!
“In patria nostra multe silvae sunt, que bestiis abundant”. To this day, I have no idea what it means.
-Something about the homeland and its forests. Only, Eminescu studied Latin in Vienna and had to listen to his old professors reciting the declension of Latin pronouns.
In their gentle murmurs they declaimed them over and over again, but he was more preoccupied to think about his blonde, mysterious Clotilde.
-And how about the nerve... what was it called...?
-Yes, the nerve of all things; the element which puts everything in motion. What would that be?"
-Money?
-Excellent, dear Marc. You beat Perpessicius!
-Who’s that?
-It doesn’t matter, but you will understand everything if you remember what Hamlet tells his friend Horatio in Act I scene 1.
-Hmm! I quote from memory: “There are more things in heaven and on earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy!"
-Bravo, Marc! within this sentence lies all wisdom! Just remember that when your understanding doesn’t want to accept something as truth, it doesn’t mean it’s not true; it just means that your understanding has found its limits!
-You’re saying those things so well, bibicule, it’s really rare for someone!”
-Bravos, I’m educating you, and you throw me into a Caragiale play!
But speaking of Eminescu, what kind of poems do you like?
-I like short poems.
-How short? Something like 'The Night's Spring' by Lucian Blaga? Or 'Childhood' by Ana Blandiana?
-No, even shorter.
-And do you know any?
-Yes!
“In a forest, in the shade of a linden tree,
There all my brothers stretching down,
I’ll also go and lie down beside them."
-Hmm, good, how about an even shorter one?
"The sea is storming in a thousand waves.
So why should I have any cares?'"
-Bravo! Did you write them?
-Not me, but maybe Marin Sorescu did.
-Beautiful! These poems remind me of a literary genre in English which is called a six-word poem.
-What? Only six words?
-Yes! For example: “I was, and then I wasn’t.”
Or: “Everything I felt, you never did!"
-That’s a good one! I know those tight-lipped English are a bit stingy with their words, but not quite like that!
See, I can make one of those too:
“Where you go, Sir?
Said the Master Bird."
-Ha, ha, ha! Bravissimo!
And one of the most beautiful short poems was written by the American poet Robert Lee Frost.
It’s called 'Snow Dust' and contains eight short verses.
It succinctly describes a funny incident on a sunny winter morning, when he went out for a walk and a crow flew upon a branch of a hemlock tree and showered him with powdery snow.
This event changed his mood and saved in part a day he had rued. A genius poem of only 34 words.
However, in the last century, the English created a humorous poem of five short verses called Limerick, which was very popular during the Victorian era.
Verse 1 rhymes with 2; 3 with 4, and the fifth, which is also the punchline of the poem, with 1 and 2.
-Yes, many poets have written brilliant verses since Shakespeare onwards.
-Correct, but speaking of literature, how does Ionuț get along with the students?
-Super! He has an elephant's memory!
He retells them from memory the works of Ion Creangă.
They didn't really like the story: “The Foolishness of Man” because some recognized themselves in it.
But when they got to “Harap Alb” featuring the Red Emperor, the salads in the bear's garden, and the horse that ate the red-hot ashes, Ionuț captivated everyone.
Now they are on to “Memories of Childhood.”
They loved a lot him before, but now they are crazy about him.
-Bravo, he needs fans to strengthen his self-image. Just keep your magic eye on him and encourage him!
-Seen and done, comrade inspector!

NINE
I saw Țurcanu from afar, at the prison gate, pacing back and forth like a caged lion.
Marc’s former boss was a Macedonian from Babadag, short of stature and with a thick neck. He was a nephew of the Becali clan, the magnates of urdă and the kings of cheese, shepherds who were tending countless flocks of sheep at pasture in the hills of Dobrogea.
He was at Colibași for speculations with dairy products.
When he saw us, Țurcanu waved discreetly and entered the guard's booth.
The cubicle, which at that hour was empty, was built in the square shape of a cube, surprisingly spacious, and inside it was a bench going around three of its inner walls. The perfect place for a conspiratorial meeting.
We sat down comfortably, face to face, and shook hands.
Țurcanu seemed embarrassed to be here and appeared to not know where to start.
To break the ice, Marc asked:
-How are you, Viorel? How did the inventory count go?
Encouraged, Țurcanu let his voice loose.
-Well, that’s just it, Mr. Marc; it doesn’t add up at all!
-How so?
-Regarding the blankets it’s somewhat okay, but when it comes to sheets, we are not even close.
When I bring them from the laundry, I’m missing ten. I replaced them with the emergency reserve, and at the next washing, fifteen were missing. It came to a fight between boys trying to grab one of them.
Same story with towels. When it’s time to go bathing, they can’t find them. There’s always a scandal brewing up between them.
Things like underwear, cigarette packs, books from the library, bars of soap from home, keep disappearing without any reason.
-Don’t you keep the inventory locked?
-Of course I do, how could I not? I have a lock on the storeroom door, and only I have the keys.
-And the newcomer is always under your watch?
Țurcanu looked at us surprised, with his rugged Balkan shepherd’s face marred by astonishment.
- Who, Joarză Ioan?
Marc and I exchanged a significant glance.
-His name is Ioan?
-Yes, why?
-Nothing special. Do you always know where he is?
-Yes, he's with me at all actions. He seems a bit conceited but is very kind and helpful and speaks nicely.
He’s always around me, trying to make himself useful.
-Does he get along well with the boys?
-Yes, he spends all his time with them and does all kinds of services to them.
Only from time to time he goes to the kitchen where he has some friends. Also from Transylvania.
-Do you have their names?
-Yes, one’s called Jozsef Barta and the other László Csaky.
-Szekely?
-Yes, Barta from Târgu Secuiesc and Csaky from Miercurea Ciuc.
-And why are they here?
-That I don’t know, Mr. Marius.
-It seems these three schemers are shearing your fleece, said Marc.
Animated by the idea, Țurcanu ran quickly his hand through his curly hair as if looking for a trace of a shearing and after not finding one, looked at me worried.
-I beg you to help me, Mr. Marius, I understand I’m being worked on.
-Yes, by someone who wants to take your position. The pretext will be that you are too incompetent to take care of the inventory.
-I suspect that, but to actually steal from me?
-We don’t like thieves either, I said, so we we’ll do everything we can for you.
-But how could they enter my closed storeroom, locked with a bolt and a lock?
-That’s what we need to find out.
-Thank you, Mr. Marius, and know that my family will also take care of you.
-In what sense?
-So that you never lack cheese on the menu!
-Hooray, we’ve struck gold, said Marc on our way back to the school at the warehouse; our prayers for eating cheese have been answered.
-So where do you want to start tackling the problem, dear Watson?
-At Mrs. Maria, who needs to open for us the files of those two bozgorás. I bet they’re professional thieves and equipped with tools for picking locks.
-Or they possess the devil's grass which opens any lock.
-I have a feeling that we’ll need the commander’s flash camera again. This time, however, we’ll need to procure film for it.
-And that has to happen quickly before Joarză of the Glanetaș organizes a meeting of the collective.
So, this will be the plan for tomorrow. Until then I want to ask you something.
-Shoot!
-Marc, do you know the difference between capirinia and capoeira?
-I’ve heard of capirinia. Last July, I was at the Amphitheatre Hotel beach in Neptun.
The place is crawling with foreigners, and the beach is fenced off, but I sneaked in with the help of a friend from the hotel security on the condition that I keep my mouth shut and pretend to be French.
I borrowed a beach towel from the box when the valet wasn’t looking, and after a few searches, I spread my towel next to an eighteen-year-old girl from Bordeaux, freckled, with a little, pointed nose and cheeky looks, who was giving me sweet eyes.
I chatted a bit with her and was just about to start humming for her the international hit 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?' when the bartender came carrying a drink, and woke up her dad who was dozing next to her upon a sunbed.
Pops took the glass the bartender was handing him and gulped eagerly out of it, then, suddenly, with a disgusted look on his face discarded it angrily on the sand and started rattling at the guy in a machine-gun-like French. I only caught the word capirinia.
The bartender rushed to leave and came back apologetically with a bottle of the best Cuban rum, but he couldn’t calm him down.
Monsieur Bordeaux was pointing at it with a finger as if it were a murder weapon and shouted: - Mais ce n'est pas caciasa! Mais ce n'est pas caciasa!'
I was sorry for the good looking cocktail which had ice cubes and slices of green lemon in it; it must have been delicious.
-Bordeaux was right. Capirinia is Brazil's national drink, made with cachaça, which is a strong alcohol distilled from raw sugarcane juice, while rum is made from the molasses left over after sugar extraction. They don’t have the same taste.
Cachaça is combined with fine sugar and the juice and slices of green lemon which, is called chaux in French and limoncello in Italian. It’s served with ice.
-Yeah, and after he left me thinking about the superb cocktail, he also ruined my romance because he took his daughter by the hand and left the beach furiously, going back to the hotel.
I threw a long yearning look after her, but since there was nothing I could do, I applied myself to trying to woo a German girl, but since I don’t speak German...
-Poor you!
-Thanks for the lesson; and what about the other one? Is it also a drink?
-No. It’s a Brazilian martial art called capoeira, pronounced capuera.
It was started by runaway black slaves from the farmers' plantations in Brazil and is based on a ritual dance of Bantu tribes from Angola. It’s a method of fighting with bare hands that helped them survive in the unforgiving environment of the Amazon jungle and also overcome the authorities sent after them.
Over time, the black fugitives built settlements like in the wild west, which grew over time as other runaway slaves and whites who living outside the law joined them.
To be accepted in the population, those who practiced it in the cities and were feared by all, added music and songs to the training, so it would be thought to be a dance.
After the abolition of slavery in 1888, many of the freed men, not having money or homes, moved to the cities.
Using false names and weapons like shaving razors, they organized themselves into criminal gangs, resulting in severe penalties and the prohibition of capoeira in 1890.
It was only in 1932 that the authorities could be convinced of the artistic and cultural value of this sport, and the first school of Capoeira was opened in the city of Salvador.