Remember December 1989 - 35 years on
‘I found an entry in my diary from early December 1989. I was 14. There were scarce entries, I wasn’t very disciplined in keeping it. But that entry read: I hope mum and dad will let me have a party here for New Year’s Eve, oh how I wish they’d let me. It’s what I want most.
A few weeks later my next entry read: I cannot believe how many young people died, how many innocent people were killed, god knows what I would do if anything had happened to my sister, I cannot even think about it.’
Image by Andreea Elle Vas taken in 2024 at the childhood block of flats at number 216 on Calea Grivitei
‘Sometime before the 21st I remember I was home alone and the TV was on. I was in the living room, I remember the TV being in the corner, by the window – we had wall-to-wall windows. Some usual propaganda show was on, with children dressed in pink and doing dances North-Korean style. And then all of a sudden the screen went black and a famous actor, Emil Hossu, appeared, dressed in black, very uncommon, not allowed to look that sombre, all the adulation shows were in bright colours, pink, red. Hold on, how do I know what colours they were? Ah yes we’ve had a colour TV for a couple of years at that point. Yes, and the screen went black, and he appeared dressed in sombre black and started reciting a poem, I can’t remember who by, along the lines of: ‘your time will come, your time is limited, you will get what’s coming, don’t think that nothing will change’. That, in the middle of a Ceausescu show. Only for a few seconds. Then it changed back to the adulation show. I was gobsmacked. Never heard anyone else saying anything about this, about seeing this. It must have been a few days before the 21st. I think we were on school holidays already. But I don’t know of anyone who’d seen this. Who knows? Maybe it was a dream. I don’t think so, though.’
Collage including family archive image from birthday party in 1986 and new images from the same location in 2024 by Andreea Elle Vas
‘There were rumours after Timisoara, we knew from Radio Free Europe. But maybe the rumours were planted as well, by the Securitate, looking back now. Who knows. They said something might happen at the ‘popular manifestation’ organised for Ceausescu on the 21st December. Mum was going to go the mass meeting. They were taken there by buses straight from work, it was compulsory. Dad was at home, because there was something wrong with his foot – sprained his ankle or something. Otherwise, he would’ve had to go too. We sat with him to watch the manifestation on TV, very unlike us. But we knew that mum was there in that crowd. Ceausescu spoke for a long time, and we were thinking, you know, what’s happening? Is there anything happening? And then the public broadcast changed or stopped. It had never happened before, clearly something was going on. So he was speaking and there was the usual chanting of slogans: ‘Ceausescu and the people!’ and such. And through the chanting there was some rising booing and shouting. Something very dissonant. And Ceausescu hears it, he looks puzzled, this was unheard of and inconceivable. We jumped for joy! It was happening! The broadcast stopped and when it came back Ceausescu looked rattled. They filmed the front of the crowd but at the back people were leaving. Something was happening. But we thought of mum, she was there, in the crowd.’
Still image from TVR live transmission on 21 December 1989 courtesy of TVR YouTube channel
‘There is nobody left alive to validate this story but I think I remember it being told by mum maybe, a long time after, about grandad – Fat Grandad we used to call him, poor man – mum’s dad, who whenever he went out was never without his shopping bag as you never knew where they were going to bring some food supplies and he would have to join a queue to get whatever was being sold. He was out that day and he’d just bought some bread. He knew about the mass meeting being organised (everybody knew, but he was listening to Radio Free Europe and there was talk of change) and he went to the Palace square. When the chaos started, he saw someone in the crowd pulling a gun or what looked like it. And he threw a loaf of bread at him. Maybe he disarmed someone that day, with his loaf of bread. Maybe he saved someone’s life. Maybe the loaf landed on the floor. Maybe there was no gun. But he was there, and he saw Ceausescu being brought down. We lost him to cancer six months later and I always thought I was happy he went while we still had so much hope for the future and the disillusion hadn’t sunk in too much yet.’
‘I don’t remember when and how mum came home from the meeting. We wanted to go out on the streets and join the revolution. Mum and dad stood firm and didn’t let us go. Looking back, I’m so glad they did. We’re still alive to tell the tale. We called them cowards, we all wanted the change, but they tried to tell us things were not as simple and they weren’t over. Now we know there was heavy shooting that night, in the town centre. People were gunned down and ran over by tanks. Not even after the Ceausescus ‘fled’ in the helicopter on the 22nd we were allowed to go out. We thought it was all over by then, that it was safe, that we were free.’
‘When the first ‘free’ broadcast happened on the 22nd we stayed glued to the television. Soon they started talking about terrorists, they were warning the people that there were terrorist factions, and that we should be careful and defend ourselves. We lived on the first floor, all windows faced the road, and the factory Grivita Rosie - now GRIRO -opposite. I remember there was shooting, or an explosion, or all of this. Talking to dad he vaguely remembers there seemed to be a shooter on the high tower opposite. None of us know what the explosion was, but the blast was so strong and so loud. Why would anyone want to shoot towards a block of flats? Our windows got smashed. It was a bullet, or ricochet, or an explosion. Or all of this. We moved our wardrobes to cover our windows. It was all dark. All our windows were blocked. And some were smashed. On the TV they said we should defend ourselves. There was a barrage of scary news being broadcasted in panic voices. That the water had been poisoned by terrorists. That blood supplies at hospitals were being blown up.’
‘The men of our block barricaded the entry hallway – it was all glass. They brought items of furniture and covered the doors towards the front road. They decided to keep vigil all night. Dad was wondering what to take with him, that he could use as weapons. Reluctantly, he grabbed a hammer and a screwdriver or a kitchen knife or something like that. And then he went out on the hallway and joined other men. On the staircase balustrade there was an entire line-up: a hammer, a screwdriver, another hammer, a kitchen knife and so on. They all had the same idea, and the same means. I think one of them made a ‘Molotov cocktail’ but everyone was more scared that he’ll get the block to catch fire instead.’
‘After the explosion we all hunkered down on the hallway between the kitchen and the entrance door, where the phone was. It was pitch black. We must have stayed there all night. Dad remembers crawling to get to the phone and ring his cousin, who had some links with the Securitate apparently, that we never talked about at the time. But the lines must have been down and he couldn’t get through. I don’t think I’d been more frightened ever in my life. Just on the other side of the wall, and our flimsy entrance door, was the inner passageway connecting the two sections of the block. I was always freaked out by it ever since we’d heard that someone had got thrown down from the top floor once. That night, in the pitch dark and dead silence, we heard noises and a loud bang, and then the door to the passageway screeching opened, and closed. I’m sure we all held our breaths. Dad had a broom stick for a weapon. I had visions of our door being kicked in and us all being shot dead, there and then.’
‘I don’t have many recollections of anything after that night, except Christmas day and the days after when we all waited to see the footage of the Ceausescus being executed. That took ages to be released and everyone speculated that the tape was being doctored, that the Ceausescus weren’t really dead, that it was all a set-up. We have no family recollections of that period. No idea how or when the windows were replaced, when mum and dad went back to work, how and where we got food, what we did on New Year’s Eve.’
All images unless otherwise specified by captions are taken by me in 2024 at the location of my childhood home on Calea Grivitei 216. I would like to thank the current residents who allowed me access to the interior especially the current owner-occupier of my former childhood flat where I had not stepped foot in for more than 30 years before this visit.
