"I am sorry," Dmitra said, "I do not mean to offend, but the rest of the world--journalists, everyone--watches this like some kind of movie, something not real.
In his 24-year reign over Romania, Nicolae Ceausescu had his political prisoners, with house arrest for those well known in the West, hellish prisons and sudden disappearances for others.
But for the vast majority of Romania's 23 million citizens, people who only now are beginning to speak freely about their lives, the horror of Ceausescu's totalitarian rule was something less dramatic but more insidious. Totalitarian rule bruised minds and warped relationships. Romania under Ceausescu was a land of privation, fear and constant intervention in the intimate decisions of daily life. It was a land that killed dreams.
For Petre--like all others in this article, this is not his real name--the dream was to pursue his chosen field of study, mathematics.
A talented university student, Petre was among the top members of his class. But upon graduation, he and his classmates were told they would not be allowed to continue their studies or teach at the university level. They would have to leave Bucharest and take jobs teaching grade-school arithmetic in the countryside.
"I tried to do research as a hobby," Petre said. He would travel hundreds of miles on weekends to the few libraries sporadically allowed to receive Western scientific literature. There, he would copy papers by hand to get around Ceausescu's ban on the private use of copying machines.
"These are my best years to do research and work. It's a loss," he said.
"I wanted to get a scholarship to attend a school abroad and get my Ph.D.," he said. "But I was very good, and they were afraid I would not come back, so I could not."
In the 25 years of his life, Petre has been allowed to leave his country only once--to travel several years ago to a mathematics conference in East Germany, where, he said, "People looked freer to act. They were able to speak. They were able to have contacts. They were able to work."
East Germany, he concluded, "was a real paradise."
Dmitra and her husband, Ioan, had a more domestic dream.
"I wanted a child--not one child, I wanted six children," Dmitra said with a short and bitter laugh. "Do you remember?" she asked her husband. "We got married in 1977; I was 21."
The two are quick to say they led comparatively privileged lives. Sophisticated and intelligent, both are well-educated professionals. Ioan's job has allowed him occasional travel in the West and access to goods--coffee, perfume, clothing, American cigarettes--that could be resold, providing money that cushioned the grim life in Ceausescu's "model state."
"I consoled myself with these," said Dmitra, pointing to the color television and video recorder in the small sitting room of their house.
But consumer goods could not block out the reality of daily life. In the mid-1970s, Ceausescu, who assumed power in 1965, had only recently begun to fully impose his grotesque plans on the nation. Seeing what was happening, the young couple put aside thoughts of a family.
"What could we offer this child?" Dmitra explained. "What life?"
A treasured uncle had a son who fled to the West. Ioan and Dmitra felt they had no choice but to cut off all communications. The uncle was now a watched man, and even a simple telephone conversation might cost Ioan his passport or his job.