Vasile Mariaş
(Vasile, click aici pentru poze mare.)
Last weekend, I blew it.
Last weekend, I blew it. Mamaliga Girl had very kindly let me know about the upcoming Zdob şi Zdub concert earlier. In fact, I guess it was a couple months ago when she told me about it and, back then, I’d been planning on going for sure. Turns out they were scheduled to play at the ever beautiful Piaţa Sfatului during a beer festival. Who in their right mind would miss that?
Last weekend, I blew it. During what should have been some pre-tournament friendlies, I was armed with a camera, wandering around the Saturn cartier of Braşov which is one of the least desirable neighborhoods. No festival. No music. No beer. Just broken Dacias, racist graffiti, and suspicious residents. A camera? Here? We’d better investigate. Someone follow him around for a while, staying back a safe distance. In fact, maybe those guys over there want to rush up aggressively and find out just what exactly this foreigner is doing around here taking photos. Does he know Steaua? Is he making a movie? Maybe there’s a way to quickly pilfer something out of that camera bag. Is that a Nikon? Is he American? Maybe he’s lost, because there’s nothing around here to take pictures of.
Last weekend, I blew it. At the end of my afternoon journey, I was accosted by some streetworkers. I took control of my paranoia 5 seconds later and was able to see they were actually an incredibly nice family working hard at performing custodial services for the municipality of Braşov. You know, cleaning up the mess you make by littering every day like a spoilt child. Working class, blue collar, salt of the earth, meat and potatoes, the great unwashed masses. From the broad faced grins and excited rabble, I got the impression they wanted me to take a photograph of them together. Click.
Last weekend, I blew it. Having secured the image, they began to ask me — all three of them at once — how would they get to see the photograph. Funny, it only occurs to me as I write these details down that I could have shown them the photograph on the ample LCD of my dSLR. Instead, I offered to send it to them online. “Aveţi email?” Da, clar, of course they did. The group of us fumbled through our collective pockets until someone produced a pen and someone else found paper. The son busily wrote down his email address.
“Oooooh. Aveţi adresa de email pe internet?” “Nu. Nu am.”
Last weekend, I blew it. I reluctantly took his phone number already knowing that the chances I would call were slim to none. They asked if I would call. So excited at the prospects of getting a photograph. Unsure of how it works. Proud of themselves for being together as a family unit. They pressed; would I call? I looked the father dead in the eye and lied.
Last weekend, I blew it. They smiled broadly. What an amazing day! The sun was shining. They’ve got a regular paying job. They get to be together outdoors. They randomly bump into an American. He doesn’t treat them like garbage. No, he’s friendly and takes their photograph when asked. And he’s going to call them, so they can get the photo.
Last weekend, I blew it. I pretty much knew I wouldn’t call them. I didn’t want to actually use a telephone to dial them up because then they would have my number on the mobile Caller ID. And, of course, that would mean they would call and pester me. Sure, they’d probably ask for money or try to find out where I lived. They were gypsies afterall. And I fell for that racism in an instant. It’s pervasive in Romania and I allowed it to infect me. I openly apologize to the Mariaş family.
Last weekend, I blew it. I couldn’t think of how to explain to these folks that there was no film and there would be no prints. I assumed they wouldn’t be able to understand. I took the number, promised to call, and escaped. Escaped the embarrassing entanglement. Less than 5 minutes later I was safely in my apartment. The guilt began to set in as I worried about how to handle the situation. Clearly, I would have to call them. I promised. You should have seen the happiness on their faces. Eyes alive with excitement at being treated like the very normal human beings they were. If I did call, how would I explain to them about digital cameras and file downloading? Impossible.
Last weekend, I blew it. I meant to write a post, so I could share with you my rationale about why I wasn’t going to call them and how it was all very understandable. Most likely, you would have nodded in agreement. They’re just Roma. No one important. Streetworkers. Uneducated. You probably wouldn’t have even said a word to them, ignoring the reality of their existence. You certainly would have never stopped and had a chat. Take their photo? What for? You know I’m right about your reaction. But, I didn’t post about it. I didn’t tell you what happened.
Last week, I blew it. I never called. I just thought about it. Obsessed over it. It didn’t really matter in the scheme of life, yet it was so very much not my way of doing things. I could call them from a payphone, but what was my problem? Did I really feel like the natives around me, so disgusted by this minority? Paranoid they would try to “do something?” Was I afraid? Of what? How bizarre and very un-Romerican all this behavior was.
This weekend, I fixed it. I had been walking around Braşov snapping photos with Lemonmouse, when I was almost home again and I saw them. Working again on another Saturday. But they hadn’t seen us. I could walk around a building, taking a different route, and just avoid them. I had failed to call them the way I promised. Then, in an instant, the sordid ugliness was over. I came back to myself.
This weekend, I fixed it. I pivoted on one foot, changed course, and strode confidently in their direction. I waved at them and they didn’t recognize me. Even assumed I was waving to someone else. As I got closer, I waved again and the father looked at me, puzzled. I made a bit of sign language about taking a photograph. Hold an air camera up to my eye and clicking the air button. The light of recognition lit up his face. What a happy guy!
This weekend, I fixed it. He tapped his wife and told her who I was. She erupted into a huge grin. I asked Lemonmouse to translate everything I had to say. I apologized for not calling them. I told them the camera was an electronic one, so there would be no print on paper. I told them they could go online to a website and pick up the photograph. Even print it out for themselves, if they wanted to. And, for the most part, they understood. They were curious about how much it would cost them at an internet cafe, but they thought it would be worth the small charge to do it. Probably have their son do it.
This weekend, I fixed it. They shook my hand vigorously and thanked me several times. In a world where they are normally discarded as worthless by the people living around them, today they felt… human. Do not misinterpret any of this. There’s no redemption here. No heroism. I failed myself last week, but I managed to correct it. I suppose I could have talked to a psychologist about this incident. Instead, you get to read this as a sort of virtual confession. As it would be out of character for me to do something like this again, you shouldn’t expect more of the same. Just part of the cleansing process and I hope you, anonymous and unspecific you, understand.
This weekend, I fixed it.
May 28th, 2006 at 4:11 pm
I identify with this problem. I used to make weekly visits to Fundeni Hospital in Bucharest to play with the kids who had various cancers and at first I took my digital camera along. Oh how they loved to pose! But what tore my heart in two were the mothers who begged me to take a photograph of them with their child, who more than likely was going to die. Most of them never had a camera and many didn’t have even one recent photo of their child. I took digital shots and ‘promised’ to get them prints but well…. you know what that’s like. So what I did was this- I started bringing my Polaroid camera along and took photos just the same but then I could immediately give the moms the shots. Boy did they love this! It’s definitely not a low cost idea, but I felt it was always worth the cost.
Kim
May 28th, 2006 at 5:23 pm
Question: you are aware that you can change the ‘network settings’ in your mobile phone so that your phone number is not displayed when you make a call? If you are not, you should be.
May 29th, 2006 at 6:59 pm
It took some balls to write this post. I might have to clean the inner closet myself somewhere in the future about this issue.
May 29th, 2006 at 10:24 pm
That’s good that you got a chance to fix it.
May 29th, 2006 at 11:41 pm
Aww, I’m impressed! You’re a nice guy.
May 30th, 2006 at 9:48 am
dude… you don’t have a printer? here’s the real fix: print the pic… walk up and hand it to them… of course people like us scoff at the quality of a printed picture, but the marias family isn’t exactly “like us”, now are they?….
May 30th, 2006 at 9:49 pm
I understand where you come from with this post. As a fairly conspicuous American, (read, poor language skills,) I try not to cause any kind of a scene in public. So although I am very interested sometimes in getting pictures of the Gypsies around town, I just don’t go there. Perhaps I fear being tangled in somthing similar to this and not handling it quite as well… asa.
May 31st, 2006 at 3:30 am
Romerican, I respect you for writing this. It’s hard to find the balance between fear and the right thing–especially because unconscious fear wins out and we succesfully become just as racist and stereotypical as the people we despise. I think you took one step farther than most of us do. I’d be grateful to you if you took the second and printed the picture yourself. It doesn’t cost much and–to go with the theme of the unconscious–they’ve already proven themselves to be harmless.
Worth nothing the same feelings dominate people when it comes to the poor and homeless of Washington, DC.
May 31st, 2006 at 11:00 am
Hey, check this out! You are on my list :) Yeap, this post and the one about the Firefox did it! Cheers!
May 31st, 2006 at 6:03 pm
Great writing, great story. What more could a wandering blog reader ask for?
June 3rd, 2006 at 1:50 am
I understand.You’re being a little hard on yourself :)
June 15th, 2006 at 6:05 am
What a great story! Very Heart-Warming… And, I loved the style of writing!
November 23rd, 2006 at 1:30 am
Nice story. Not for the fact that you really fixed a situation with that family but because you put into words the inherent prejudices that so many feel. Actually your reaction seems a little short-sighted to me as the family is probably doing that job to receive their social assistance which is practically nothing (about 600,000 lei for the first family member and drops after that) and they probably have little education (74-80% of Roma in Romania don’t reach the 9th grade). So they not only likely can’t afford to go into the internet cafe but they probably don’t have a clue what to do when they get in there, even their son. With the 30,000 lei it eventually takes to get online and print out that picture they can feed a whole family for one meal (beans and bread). On second thought maybe they will scrounge some money up and find someone to help them get to that picture online. Marginalized groups often tend to misappropriate their resources because they lack the capacity to long term plan. This obviously comes from living ones entire life trying to figure out how to survive the respective day. So they get their picture and maybe miss a meal the next week when money’s a little tighter. Not a huge deal but it would’ve been nicer if little adriana could concentrate a little better at school that day. But it’s likely that she’ll be dropping out soon anyways to help the family in the short term. I don’t want to sound critical here but I appreciate this article for two reasons: 1. Because it brings to light prejudices that are in a lot of us. 2. Because it unintentionally demonstrates the general ignorance of what Roma poverty and marginalization means in this country. But anyways, keep up the good writing. I liked the one about the Stefan Cel Mare Vodka.
toate bune,
Jonathan
February 20th, 2007 at 11:20 am
Hi,
I am crawling through your stories and I am quite impressed of their deep insight. You could make me change my opinion on American culture. Joking :)
I have been an expat myself for many years in Japan and we returned recently to Romania to settle down. As my work is IT related I made a framework for the foreigners in Romania. There are many guide portals or independent projects like yours but not really a dedicated site for such a comunity.
Would be great to have people like you to exchange articles and opinions for the benefit of the entire comunity. If you think this being a nice idea please check the site http://www.expatromania.ro and contact us. Otherwise please just ignore this and keep up the good writing!
Spor,
Radu.
April 13th, 2007 at 7:28 pm
Dude, printing that image in the closest photo booth would have taken roughly 10 times less than you invested in writing this
June 30th, 2007 at 12:54 am
I like this story because it reminds me of what I used to go through 15 years ago in Bucharest. I used to take black and white photos using Azomures film in my SLR camera, especially of gypsies and tsarani in the marketplace. For a while I lived on Soseaua Colentina near the Obor market in Bucharest and the people there would always ask me to come back with copies of the photos. I had a darkroom in my bathroom so the first couple of times I dutifully made copies of the black and white pictures and brought them back to Bucur Obor. When people recognized me they would come running over to get their pictures but at the first sight of the photos their smiles would drop off their faces with disappointment. I quickly realized that they were totally unimpressed with black and white.. that’s what pictures used to look like in Nicolae and Elena’s time! So I got into the habit of going to the market with two cameras: my big SLR with the Azomures film and a little point and shoot camera with Kodak color film. I’d take two photos of everybody, one for me and one for them, and from that time on, I was a big hit at Bucur Obor.
August 22nd, 2007 at 12:50 am
the story appears to be all about you..
February 14th, 2008 at 12:56 am
In your earlier blogs you mentioned that you were looking for work as a liaison from time to time, saying that you were an “IT-savvy American who lives in Romania (you know, someone kind of like me!) in order to bridge cultural gaps and solidify business trust issues. In any event, there are smart, eager, capable folks throughout Romania.” Well, I’m in the market for an IT savvy translator/liaison regarding the publishing world over there and media publicity for a book due to come out in Romania in the Spring. Got any ideas who can help me?