H
ayward,
California, USA, 2011
CONTENTS
1. Preface
by the Author
2. Frontier began in Timisoara
3. Teeth are more expensive in the West
4. The West
wind of freedom
5. The denture
6. Mother still waiting for your letter!
7. Flowers
for
a
hero
8. Epilogue
1 Preface by the Author
Romania's
communist prison system during the '70s was a real time bomb because
of prison overcrowding, overcrowded prisoners of all kinds,
especially political prisoners, of which the largest number was
"the frontierists”. They defied the regime directly, through
their extraordinary courage in trying some way to escape from
Communist Romania in the western border of Romania. They were caught
when trying to cross the strip of land bordering Yugoslavia show, be
caught by the Serbian police and returned to Romania, others they can
find hidden in trains or caught while trying to cross the Danube
shore with floating objects to Yugoslav, swimming the river.
They were the ones caught and arrested, because most of them killed
by bullets fell right there in the frontier strip of land, or into
the dark waters of the Danube.
About
them
has
not
heard
anything. It
is difficult to determine which of these traps has taken most of the
Romanian souls, but not only. Chances of moving to the west or to be
killed during the test were equal.
A paradox of the twentieth century happened in Romania, where an
entire regular border army, had guns pointed towards the interior of
the country, to their people that actually had to defend it from
outside!
Romania became a big concentration camp guarded as to not
escape anyone out. Cope with heavy assault guards from inside the
western border.
Day
and night
to
shoot
without
warning
anyone
approached
the
border.
Nobody
tried to flee to the east, to the Russians! Everyone wanted to escape
to the West in the West. Nobody liked but anyone that had to go
through Yugoslavia to the west, because this country was still
communist country, just as communism was a guy with shades of Tito,
their dictator.
Romanians
had no choice but this was the only way out more accessible to the
West. All other alternatives of escape from the cage called Romania
were completely blocked by the communist regime.
However the number of those who wanted to escape at any cost the
communist dictatorship in Romania, to triple every year. Only in the
prison "Popa Sapca” of Timisoara, among other categories of
prisoners, was over one thousand five hundred "frontierists”.
Most of them were at first arrest for attempted border crossing but
there were so many repeat offenders, those who had been caught and
convicted of second or third time for the same facts: official called
border crossing attempt.
Most
of them expected to be released from prison for attempting to escape
to the west again.
Prison became a
kind of school for all that's what the first time but had been caught
but for repeat offenders. They heard from each other as they cook
each and were caught. Preparing in prison, learning the routes they
should go to the border and what to do if they had arrived in
Yugoslavia.
Among them there were
many who wanted to escape at any cost, even from prison, trying to
escape at night or day from the premises, under armed escort. They no
longer care about the years of detention and even their lives. They
had in mind only the desire to flee, to escape anyway, even at any
price. For them the risk was enormous, and few were those who managed
to escape with his life. The communist regime adapted well to the
situation studded with towns and villages informers all area west of
the country. Basically the border area was starting at 50 kilometers
away from the border of Yugoslavia, beginning even in
Timisoara.
If you accidentally slip
out a word that you had intended to leave the country, were quickly
poured by someone to the right place and would be investigated. The
fear reigned everywhere. It reached such a state of social unrest
that even elders of Romania, they thought of the world in the head
and were thinking to go. Therefore “frontieristi” were of all
ages: children, women, adults and elderly.
Turtoi, hard corn
like the stone and a handful of boiled barley was prisoner’s food.
Subjected
to
superhuman
efforts
at
forced
labor
in
various
outlets,
as
called
by the
guards,
in
fact
true
bearings,
where
digging
deep
holes
in the
ground,
using
only
pickaxe
and
shovel,
without
eating
more
or less
human.
At that time the author found himself in prison in Timisoara, for the
same offense, "art. 45 of Penal Code - Attempted fraudulent
border crossing Romania, on short, “frontierist".
Inhuman conditions of life and disease devastating the
prisoners,
get
sick and
filled
the
infirmary
prison
where
no
qualified
medical
treatment
they died,
were
then
thrown
into
unknown mass
graves,
not to know
one
of
them.
Those
who
after
months
or
years of
detention
were
released
from
prison
looked
like
living
skeletons
physically
and mentally
destroyed.
However,
the
regime
was
unable
to
completely
annihilate
their
will.
After
a brief
recovery
period
at
home or
anywhere,
again
assuming
all
risks,
including
loss
of life,
but
also
new
borders
former
strength
again
trying
to escape
to the
west
border,
always
their
dream
of
their own.
They
were the spearhead of a Romania that assail his own western border,
trying everything seemed to move with the West and to escape a
communist dictatorship imposed and we want to anyone.
It was the duty of honor of the author to write this book in memory
of so many thousands of prisoners "frontierists", who have
lost their lives in prisons communist Romania, the strip of land
bordering the western show with Yugoslavia, or in rough waters of the
Danube, swimming in the rain of bullets desperately to reach the
Serbian side and from there, perhaps, to escape, if they were lucky,
to the West.
May their memory be kept alive in
Romanian consciousness now and for eternity?
John Cârja
2 Frontier began in Timisoara
It
was a gloomy autumn day, when at six o'clock evening by the first ten
trucks loaded with prisoners we returned from the work camp and enter
the main gate of the prison "Popa Sapca" of Timisoara.
Other trucks were on the road. The truck was covered that we were
thirty “frontierists” of all ages, sitting on three long wooden
benches, ten on each bench. I was the youngest of all. Some
of them
were
smiling
and
encouraging
me
in
the
eye.
We were not allowed to talk. Risk a shot with rifle butts, you take
the one you were talking and heard by one guard soldiers. When our
truck stopped in line with the other, the three soldiers guarding us
jumped out off the truck and opened the shutter back to descend.
We were tired just got off the trucks, some relying on others.
With
unmatched boots without laces, some even had no soles, with torn
clothes hanging, full of debris, unwashed and unshaven, and show all,
like wan ghosts, far too low in the human condition. Slowly, we have
lined up for a new call in the prison yard.
Limp
because of wounds made by the boot too low to my right foot and stick
to wound my stocking. We have been controlled the body and the
pockets to have no objects, and then we headed to our cells each.
Guards called them bedrooms.
In
cell
37,
sat
huddled
fifteen
prisoners.
There
were
only
seven
torn
mattresses
that
disgusting
bugs
swarming.
Some
of us
were
smokers
and
that
their
last
plank
was
a
disaster for
the
rest of us
who do
not
smoke.
That I
can breathe a little air I normally sleep on the floor, because
clogged air above the cigarette smoke and other odors but it was
impossible to breathe. We agreed between us that we should not make
biological requirements during the night in a barrel of wood found in
a corner of the cell.
Understanding
and makes us all respect the needs during the day, the work points
before cell entry. There were still occasions when one of us could
not resist making their overnight needs barrel yet. It is
understandable that smell was in the cell. And patient people and
they were silent all, but each one of us burst though.
“Now you've found to do your job man?”
Ashamed,
poor guy answer bitter;
“Forgive me
brothers, I could to restrain myself but I have it anymore!”.
Morning before the call went out and had the barrel emptied, washed
and brought back into the cell. Do the job this unfortunate course of
us who use it.
Were fewer hours of sleep
and early morning have to eat that called Gaul boiled barley and
drink so fucking hot black water, which they called coffee, but where
they actually put all sorts of chemicals to be tested on our skin.
If you
were healthy when they arrested you, you certainly get ill and if you
were already sick of the arrest, not much had no chance at life.
There probably leave your bones together with other comrades, in an
unknown grave, if the period of detention was for many years. It was
forbidden to have paper and pencil in the cell. For such "crimes"
could we be placed in special isolation cell, for days without water
or food.
I was imprisoned in
"Popa Sapca" over two weeks since I had been arrested on
the train accelerated from Timisoara to Stamora Moravita. Home nobody
knew my fate. I was thinking about how to announce my family that I
am arrested and that I am in prison in Timisoara.
One day I found on the work camp a small broken pencil lost someone.
Happy,
but on careful about, I took it and I hid in my pocket. Later I asked
for the toilet, where on a small piece of cardboard I wrote: "My
dear I’ve been arrested for attempted illegal border crossing. I am
in prison "Popa Sapca" of Timisoara. I do not know when I
will be judged. Take care of children. Kiss you all ". Something
I wrote below: "Please send cardboard over it at my home."
Thank you! Follow my address. I immediately threw the pen and I kept
only cardboard.
The evening before
leaving the work point to prison, passing by high barbed wire fence
over six feet, I was able to look in the eyes of a worker beyond the
fence and then to cast him that piece of cardboard through the fence.
The man
looked to me and said nothing. I hope to show humanity this man so
well known Romanian. I hope!
Much
later, at the hearing I learned that the man sent my piece of
cardboard by mail home to my wife. Thus she found where I was and
what had happened.
I thank this man for his gesture unknown normal
human.
Now I just pulled weary legs hardly hurt by the
wrong boots. One was too small size, and the other too big. I entered
the cell and I rolled down the wall next to my usual.
I worked hard every day at the work of digging with pickaxe near
Timisoara at Beregsău village and shovel deep pits for a pig farm
built there.
The
area was surrounded by a double fence of barbed wire, with watch
towers at the corners and soldiers with Kalashnikovs machineguns
always directed toward us like a true Nazi extermination camp without
the slightest possibility of escape even imaginary. I like pit
normally a cubic meter of land per day. I managed to do it, but
others do not.
After a day or
two I did not see them at work. I was detained without trial for
almost a month and the time passed without any news. Few of us were
talking in the cell. Everybody's had trouble, but also walls had
ears!
I thought of my children. I
was hungry. It was almost seven o'clock to come when "dinner"
that fucking barley and rancid. I eat though. Without this effort
barley not resists. Have to live on.
Always looked at the door and expect to open the little window
through which
they
usually
push
plate
with
warm
barley.
Guardian
of the hallway but suddenly opened the cell door and pushed our cell
a new inmate, who had to bend over so he can get in.
He was a man in his forties, with unusual stature, over six feet
tall, solid, with jail clothes too small for his body giant
fighter.
Man enters the cell and stopped
the door on the very quiet around us. Seem normal and familiar with
the situation where he was in.
“Good evening
everyone, I'm Adam Brumaru” addressed it all, then slowly
approached and left on the bed next to me. Looking fixed to me made
calm with a thick baritone voice:
“I
know
why you
sit
down
boy.
Below
is a
little more
clean
air,
but
you know
that
night
all
the
bugs
down,
climb on
you,
you know? “
“Yes,” I said surprised, “but look that bed is even full of
them. I prefer to sit directly on the wooden floor, it's hard, but I
was healthy and normal.” “Well boy, how you want! What's your
name?” he asked looking at me curiously.
“John,”
I
said,
looking at
his
shoulders
broad
and
unusual
stature.
“But
you?”
I
asked him:
“Adam.
Adam
Brumaru.”
He said.
We
talked a lot
that
night,
but
in a
whisper
as
to
not
disturb
others.
I
found
out
that
Adam
was
leaving right
near
the
village
Beregsău
near
the
work camp. Until
then
had
been
arrested
twice
for
trying
to
flee to
Germany
where
he had
his
mother's relatives.
In the
beginning
had
made
all
sorts
of
requests
to be
legally
approved
to go
visit
relatives
in
Germany
too.
But
they
never approved
anything.
No way
a
passport.
Then
he
tried
to
escape
hidden
in a
freight
car
loaded
with
green
cabbage
for
Germany.
The
freight car
was,
however,
intentionally
or not
open
for
inspection
at the
border
and he
was
found
and
arrested.
There,
at the border, was also the
buyer
to
receive
the
load
wagon
shipped to Germany.