Romania - a family business

Romania - a family business

I thought I was watching the Hallmark Channel. I had actually started to get into it: wow, a mafia movie! The capi hidden behind dark windows, in limos that whooshed across the asphalt, the alley that wound around the forest, the barrier heavily guarded by big guys with walkie-talkies on them. A hidden meeting place, with boats trying to infiltrate the perimeter. Omerta and mystery...

... Until the window of one of the cars rolled down and there was Olteanu's noggin (what do you mean which Olteanu? ask Berceanu). OMG, it was you guys! You had me so scared!

I finally understood what I was staring at: a soap opera with pathetic mafiosos, filmed Bollywood style. What do pathetic mafiosos look like? Just like we saw them Sunday evening, at Snagov Palace. There's nothing bloody about them - instead of shooting they'd rather sing us something. Then, in dubbing, they say: "We've shot you full of holes!". Most times they come out of it alright with a nice speech. So nice that you want to empty your pockets willingly, just to give them enough to get them some of that caviar. You're going to say that they've emptied our country's coffers but you have to admit you didn't even notice it - it all happened quietly and without violence.

They want to save Romania and they're doing, like they're used to: quietly. In secret meetings. Away from the eyes of disease (yeah, right) pensioned pensioners (these have the keenest eyesight, they see all the way into future past). And they will save Romania. At any price. By letting the Opposition squirm in rhetorical torment.

Il Capo di Tutti Capi summoned them Sunday evening - what sweet light, what scenery, what beauty, what soundtrack: from the lake, "Stranger in Paradise", the soundtrack from "Godfather", from the woods, "Awaara", the soundtrack from Bollywood's "The Tramp". Don Traian has gathered them all, because he felt their spirits were down. It's not that the population has lost confidence in them, it's that they themselves no longer trust each other. They move a little in the fronts, they whisper in the corners; the weakest ones desert to the enemy. Capo Bastone (Don Emilio) has lost his shrewdness, opening himself to internal attacks and sabotage. And Il Capo di Tutti Capi had asked them for two simple things: a little austerity, an ounce of modesty. Each understood what he could: some scratched off the car logos (so much so that you could see a Romanian "Lăstun" at turbo speed) while others, smarter, rented a bus, like poor relatives do for weddings where they have to bring a gift. Videanu, Blaga, Berceanu - (whom if you put into a tram will get out at every stop, thinking that that's standard procedure) - were sandwiched together on forty seats, sang traveler's songs and showed their orientation classes didn't pay off because no matter how much tree moss they looked at they still got lost like Little Red Riding Hoods in the forest. (They were recovered and brought to the right road).

It's the final images that I can't get out of my head: Don Traian, more tragic than a Godfather - King Lear mix, leaving at sunset, alone, pensive, driving a Logan, while the movie credits went by on the screen, the polite bark of the black dog that had guarded the alley all night and then the barrier going down from on high, like an ultimatum...

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