In December 1989 I was 9 years old.
I had just started year 3 in school. This in Romania was almost halfway through primary school. I felt very grown up. I was proud to be a big girl, who read big books. But secretly, my most loved pastime remained playing house with my dolls, my best friend and my little sister.
On the 22nd of December I was looking forward to leaving Bucharest for the winter holidays. My sister and I always spent our holidays at Grandma’s house, in a city only 40 miles North of Bucharest, but far enough for it to be an oasis of childhood and freedom for both of us. Grandma spoilt us rotten.
And yet that was a holiday which never took place. Instead, I spent a week sleeping on the corridor of our flat (as it was away from all the windows), with the lights off and very little to do.
That winter I grew up and out of my childhood. That winter, I witnessed the Romanian Revolution, which culminated with the overthrow of the Communist Regime and the execution of the country leader, Ceausescu and his wife. I happened to live in the centre of Bucharest, the capital city, in December, when and where it all happened.
Don’t get me wrong. Mine is a story with a happy end. I grew up to be a strong, independent woman with a mind of my own. I learned how to make hard choices, and how to stick by them.
Also, the Romanian Revolution only lasted two weeks. To this day I wonder whom I would have become if in January I had not managed to get back to school, and thus to normality. I remember seeing my classmates, my best friend and my teacher, and having a strong feeling that all was good. The world hadn’t turned upside down. Or even if it had, it had managed to tilt back round again.
From the 22nd to the 31st of December 1989 I produced a lot of ‘artwork’. There was one theme going through it. What you have seen above is the Revolution through the eyes of a 9 year old.
Giving children options for the future
1989 was a difficult year for me from many perspectives. It definitely made an impact on me growing up. (There’s a blog post in the making about this, watch this space). When I recall those long December nights, I remember the main thought going through my head then: that all my certainties had come to an end, that I did not know how tomorrow was going to look like. The fright of tomorrow through the eyes of a child is terrible: were there going to be windows in our flats? Was there going to be bread? Dogs? Cats? Would it all disappear?
Through all the insecurity, doubt and dark nights, there was one thing which kept up the normality of the day to day, and that was school. I remember going back to school in January 1990 and being surprised that we had the same (absolutely lovely) teacher and that my classmates were unchanged, some completely oblivious, as they had managed to escape Bucharest to the country in time, before any of this had started. The only difference was in the books: we had the same books as in December 1989, but the front page, with the image of the now defunct president, had been torn, and some words had been crossed. We restarted our daily lessons, and I continued to benefit from excellent teaching and an unwavering, exciting and joyous adventure in education which stayed with me until today.
EDUCATION AGAINST ALL ODDS
This is the first of a series of posts dedicated to amazing organisations and individuals who work relentlessly towards ensuring that the safety and security of education are preserved in the most difficult of circumstances. These are visionary and brave people, and they each deserve a blog post on its own. So watch this space in the weeks to come.
If you know of an organisation who works towards ensuring better schooling options for the future, please write to me underneath or tag them on social media using the hashtag: #educationagainstallodds.
[…] This is where you can find out more about those times, and also see images from my own child like perspective. […]