Romanians cannot be suspected of any partiality (biased attitude) towards another nation, even if they lived in vassalage for almost a thousand years, either under the Ottomans or under the Austro-Hungarians, together with other oppressed people. I live with partial dreams, with half measures, with few and fixed ideas, but with claims as big as the house.
Ever since the Union of 1918, Romanians were urged by Iuliu Maniu not to turn from the oppressed into the oppressors. His advice is partially followed today by those who did not deign to look for his lost bones on the roads of Sighet, but they say magic words like “nation,” “fatherland,” “nation.” They partially revere him every year on February 5, the date of his earthly disappearance, after being tortured on the directives of the Soviet commissars.
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I heard a number of citizens clamoring for the opening of air and sea borders. We only partially entered Schengen, why so much joy? Air-Schengen is not Full-Schengen.
What would it be like for the young father to wait on the brink of motherhood and be told he has half a child? Or a whole child with half a heart?
Half life
Romanians accept a partial country. They are not fighting for the dodolo part conquered by the ancestors. He accepted the Prut border with resignation, for fear of scaring the hegemon.
Young people live a partial life, torn apart, like Ioan Vodă cel Cumplit – the one torn into pieces by four camels – between the rush for money and the crisis of destiny.
The villagers accept part-time jobs, plowing, gardening, cutting trees, in the spring, for fear of not being paid on the estates of the big landowners. I do a half job. If I give my motor car to Ion, he does part-time work because he doesn’t feel like it. He leaves without saying. Either someone called him to “beat a card” (a small poker), or to make another joke, somewhere else. He is retired and still earns a partial income.
What if at the gaming table, the participants find themselves dealt half a King or half an Ace? Accustomed to “that’s how it goes, in the end,” Romanians would accept that too.
Describing the movements of a mule at the Zoo, the keeper once explained to some boys that it was half horse, half donkey. Thus, children are taught from an early age with half measures.
Grandmothers no longer take care of the seven years at home for the little ones, being too connected to the political comments on the television channels. I partially understand the fight, but keep watching the actors. Grandparents always side with the powerful, so they have partiality starts.
“Half you, half me”
The older generation is too used to half-measures, like in the days of the grandparents with the partial color televisions, with miles and the glass fish placed on top! Young people are more dogmatic than the status of the communist activist predicted. They have a partial view of the world and life. They look from the point of view of those possessed of truths, they have no time for balance, because their life is a permanent flight between nowhere and nowhere.
Students don’t really like colloquia. They know it all. They have no time for debates, being too busy rubbing mint. By the way, do we know where the expression comes from? During the time of the Phanariots, at the feasts of the Greek rulers, the servants were made to rub mint on the wooden table on which the chosen dishes were to be served. Disinfection was then, as now, partial.
We still have fun with our childhood expression: “slices the water, boron slices,” derived from Hungarian: fele víz – fele boron (half water, half wine), when we go to the terrace and are served with a bent glass.
In nostalgic moments, many Romanians see the glass half empty, not half full. Is it a crisis of destiny or a historical premeditation?
At parties, they sing of longing and mourning, in half moods, like no one else. “Half you, half me,” the song of a manelist, still produces emotions.
Run after bargains and work by halves
Unwittingly, Romanians lead a partial life. Look for discounts and half-off price crashes. On Black Friday, they enjoy the 50% prices, not realizing that the cunning traders doubled them hours before. People like to be lied to. I think with half measures.
Poor, many go to the market and ask for half. They eat partially, because their income is not enough, but they don’t go out to protests anymore, because they didn’t partially take their covers to the streets.
Life on credit is a half life, my grandmother would prophesy. And many Romanians enjoy partial freedom, because they have delegated their fundamental rights to the Big Brother on the phone.
Specialists born from the foam of the sea recommend diets with half portions, in the low-calorie regimes. Half healthy, half sick, one would say after the cure. A partial diet.
Young people prefer part-time, not to be too busy with work. Part-time work has become a national trend. No one wants to work eight hours anymore, only part time, but with the full salary – her mother half the measure.
The prime minister who ate half his words was from the “winning team”
The expression “half a voice” is only found among Romanians. No one around does work by halves. Only we had a prime minister with partially spoken words, but the Romanians pretended to be happy that he was from the “winning team.”
Even those who do not want to retire on time are satisfied with partial incomes, i.e. early pensions.
Romanians compete to have prostheses and partial crutches, they want lives forgiven of taxes and fees, always wearing half-face masks.
So, let’s stop wondering about the joy of partial entry into Schengen!
Do you still hear at any gas station, any order: “do I want a full tank?” Everyone accepts half, or a fellow editor said: “I buy everything for 50 lei from the pump. It doesn’t seem to me that fuel has become more expensive.”
VOICES OF THE WORLD
Manole the builder
“The legend of Master Manole says that, in the daring attempt to build the most beautiful place of worship, what they built during the day was destroyed at night. In order to complete the creation and to defeat the evil spirit of the place, the craftsman Manole, although a Christian, gave up his practices and turned to paganism. He fought the evil forces with their own weapons, that is, with occult practices. He decided to build his pregnant wife, Ana, in the wall of the monastery. This was the sacrifice that Manole made to improve the evil spirit of the place or to sanctify the building with blood,” says the Legend of the Craftsman Manole, according to Adevărul newspaper.
