Fleeing Romania
By Roxana Arama
February 2006
Dan Voicu, 43, spent his youth
devising plans to flee
Romania. He remembers those
times at his house in Redmond,
Wash., close to the software
company he works for.
The mildly
progressive Romanian socialist
regime in the early 1970s
tightened completely in the
1980s under Nicolae
Ceausescu’s dictatorship.
Food, water and electricity
were rationed, and the cult of
personality left little place
for anything else in the
centralized media. As living
conditions in Romania
worsened, many people tried to
flee the country.
Voicu made many
attempts to cross the border,
always together with the same
two trusty friends. “It became
an obsession,” he says. They
failed each time, but they
were never caught. On the
night of June 13, 1984,
however, things went
differently.
The three men told
only their families and close
friends about their plan to
cross the border to Yugoslavia
somewhere around the town of
Deta, in the southwest of
Romania. They researched the
spot for more than a week and
learned the frontier guard’s
whereabouts.
They went on with
their plan, but found
themselves surrounded by
soldiers with police dogs.
“They were waiting for us,”
Voicu says. “They knew about
us, they knew we were coming.”
Later, he found
out who had betrayed them.
“That person did it on a
moment’s impulse, a stupid
thing to do,” he says. Once in
the interrogation room, an
informer was scared into
saying more than intended.
Voicu never sought
revenge. “I just chalked it up
as bad luck and moved on with
my life,” he says.
The three men
didn’t resist arrest and the
border patrol took them in
handcuffs to their military
base. There, shifts changed
every four hours and each
soldier in the shift beat the
prisoners with boots and
fists, until morning came.
Tied to a radiator
so he couldn’t defend himself,
he soon learned that he hurt
only where he hadn’t been hit
before. “They went on beating
us up for eight, 10, 12
hours,” Voicu says. “I
remember the next day at noon
I was lying in a bed, all tied
up. That’s all I remember, I
couldn’t tell exactly what
happened during the night.”
Voicu says that no
crime could justify that
violence. He heard stories
about frontier guards being
scared of fugitives because,
during their training, they
had been shown photos and
films of soldiers murdered and
mutilated by people desperate
to leave the country.
The military base
had no doctors and the three
men spent the entire day tied
to their beds, conscious and
in pain, their bodies covered
in blood. “To be honest, I was
thinking that that was it, and
there was where it would all
end,” Voicu says. “I was
feeling so terrible and I
remember thinking that, when
you are about to die, that was
probably how you would feel.”
Although the
beating of prisoners was
silently encouraged, Voicu’s
and his friends’ seemed to
have gone too far. He
remembers officer after
officer coming to their
bedside. “They were coming
close, checking our wounds,
touching our swollen bodies,”
he says.
A few soldiers
were ordered to take care of
them around the clock, feed
them and carry them to the
bathroom. The prisoners
couldn’t move by themselves
and couldn’t even speak. That
special treatment lasted for
more than a week, until the
militia came to take them to
the jailhouse.
“The first time
the militia came,” Voicu says,
“they refused to take us in
because they were afraid that
we might die in their custody.
They didn’t want to get in
trouble. And they left,
without us. They came back in
10 days. We were in better
shape then.”
After weeks in
different overpopulated
detention centers, Voicu and
his friends went to trial.
They were sentenced to 18
months in prison for
attempting to cross the
frontier illegally. An
amnesty, which the president
granted every few years, sent
them home in October 1984.
In prison, Voicu
did hard labor, spent time in
solitary confinement and
adjusted to the rules of the
inmates’ society. “I don’t
know if I could withstand the
hardships now, if I had to do
it all over again,” he says.
“But one thing is sure, I
would do it again, from the
beginning.”
Eventually, Voicu
fled Romania and received
political asylum in Canada
during the 1990s. Although he
went through that adventure
and many more, he is in good
health after all these years.
“More psychological traumas
remained than physical ones,”
he says. |