Identity

I’ve always had great difficulty answering the simple question “What do you do?” “Student” was easy but, after graduation, I had a quick succession of jobs in what could be called generally the “planning” field - and “planner” is as vague a term as “manager” and enjoyed a rather limited vogue.
In 1968 I joined a polytechnic and was also elected to a town council – so “lecturer” was as good a description as what I did as any.

Using my voice was what I was paid for – whether to transmit information or opinions. I read widely – so “reader” was also a pertinent word. I became heavily involved in community development – managing to straddle the worlds of community action and political bureaucracy (for 20 years I was the Secretary of ruling Labour groups in municipal and regional Councils and also a sponsor of community action) and figured in a book about “reticulists” (networkers) – but imagine putting that word in a passport application!

For a few years I was Director of a so-called “Research Unit” which was more like a Think Tank in its proselytising workshops and publications celebrating the new rationalism of corporate management and community development. At age 43 my default activity became full-time (regional) politics – with a leader role but of a rather maverick nature who never aspired to the top job but was content to be at the interstices of bureaucracy, politics and academia. I remember my reception at an OECD function in central Sweden as someone with a proclivity to challenge.

All this paved the way for the “consultancy” which I have apparently practised for the past 20 years in Central Europe and Central Asia. But “consultant” is not only a vague but a (rightly) increasingly insulting term – so I was tempted for a period to enter the word “writer” on my Visa application forms since this was as good a description of what I actually did as any.

At one stage indeed, my despairing secretary in the Region had actually given me the nickname “Paperback writer”. Except that this was seen by many border guards in central Asia as a threatening activity! Robert Reich’s “symbolic analyst” briefly tempted – but was perhaps too close to the term “spy”!
When I did the Belbin test on team roles to which I was subjecting my teams, I had expected to come out as a leader – but was not altogether surprised to discover that my stronger role was a “resource person” – someone who surfed information and knowledge widely and shared it. What some people saw as the utopian streak in my writing gave me the idea of using the term “poet” at the airport guiches – but I have a poor memory for verse.

This morning, as I looked around at the various artefacts in the house, a new label came to me – “collector”! I collect beautiful objects – not only books and paintings but pottery, pens, pencils, laquered cases, miniatures, carpets, Uzbek wall-hangings, Kyrgyz and Iranian table coverings, glassware, terrace cotta figurines, plates, Chinese screens, wooden carvings et al. Of very little - except sentimental - value I hasten to add!

But, of course, I have these things simply because I have been an “explorer” – first of ideas (desperately searching for the holy grail) and then of countries – in the 1980s Western Europe, the 1990s central Europe – finally central Asia and beyond.

Some 25 years ago, when I was going through some difficult times, my sister-in-law tried to help me by encouraging me to explore the various roles I had – father,son, husband, politician, writer, activist etc. I didn’t understand what she was driving at. Now I do! Lecturer, reticulist, politician, maverick, leader, writer, explorer, consultant, resource person, collector – I have indeed played all these roles (and more too intimate for this blog!).

Makes me wonder what tombstone I should have carved for myself in the marvellous Sapanta cemetery in Maramures where people are remembered humourously in verse and pictures for their work or way they died!!

And it was TS Eliot who wrote that

old men ought to be explorers

Daniela tells me that TV is full today of the funeral obsequies of Adrian Panescu (see yesterday's blog). Particularly sickening in the light of the recent loss of Ion Olteanu.
As I've been blogging here for more than a year, I thought it would be useful to start looking at what I was chuntering on about a year ago.

Death of Ceaucescu's court poet and senator; alternatives

Dawn brings another superb, blue cloudless sky. The next section is from Sara in Romania's blog
Romanian poet Adrian Paunescu died this morning (5th Nov)from a heart attack (the third) at Floreasca Hospital in Bucharest aged sixty-seven. Reading FaceBook, I see friends posting his poems and plentiful comments of "Odihneasca-se in pace". Sorin Oprescu (the Bucharest mayor) has declared that Adrian Paunescu shall be laid to rest in the Aleea Scriitorilor of Bellu Cemetery on Sunday with all the honours befitting a poet of his calibre.
Considered one of the greatest poets of the post-war generation, he had political controversy attached to his name from the communist era, however, and is said to have been Ceausescu's 'court poet'... He did mea culpa, admitted fault in the early 90's and said he had behaved miserably and at some point justified his actions by needing better lodgings. By those who cannot forgive him, he has been labelled an 'opportunist', a boot licker', a man who 'tried to be a politician post-89'praised the deeds of Ceausescu' and 'organised gatherings at the stadium to chant odes to the joys of communism.' There are lots of other comments, too, that would not be fitting to add here today of all days. What to make of all that? It's as if we are discussing two different people - the talented poet who wrote verses such as the tender 'Ruga Pentru Parinti' , so moving it gives you goosebumps or 'Dumnezeul Salvarii', lovely too. This man was a magnificent writer, poet and painter of words. Perhaps then, we should make abstraction of his murky and controversial political past? Many say we should not. Does a man with such literary talent deserve to be forgiven for his wrongs? He has admitted shame at his actions and called himself some pretty offensive names publically.
It is, frankly, impossible to read his poetry and not be moved. Do we put him in the same class as other writers such as Kundera, Sadoveanu, Banus and Gunter Grass who fell along the wayside at some point or another to collaborate, coitoi and generally the lick boots of party leaders to live a little better? They did what so many others did 'to survive' but also for perks - for passports, for houses, the right to shop in the closed-circuit places where the average man could not have access... should we see them as different from the average Joe Bloggs in the street? Are they more difficult to forgive? Literature educates. Words empower and teach. They form and mould moral, social and spiritual thinking. This is a time long before I stepped foot in Roumania and thus my experience is only as witness to stories and the day to day life of others dear to me. I know they cannot and will not forgive. And so, what about the younger generation? Mine, I mean. The generation who is today between 30-40 years old. They are the friends of mine posting the beautiful verses of Adrian Paunescu on Facebook. They are the ones who drew my attention to the great outpouring of grief for this loss to Roumanian literature. My older Romanian friends stay quiet. Perhaps they comment on articles in the papers or simply sit still and remember. Perhaps there is nothing left to say.
Whatever we feel for Adrian Paunescu, one thing cannot be denied: the country has indeed lost another talented poet and shall be missed in the world of prose, verse, rhyme and word for generations to come. He has left an indelibly moving, poetic mark on the bookshelves of libraries, bookshops and sitting-rooms throughout Roumania and beyond with his 50 volumes. Between 1973-1985 when the last 'gathering' (cenaclul Flacara) took place, there were 1,615 shows with an estimated 6 million participants (voluntary or not - most of them were not. Some were caught on the street and dragged there to have a full house).
Here's 'In Love with Bucharest'...

This is a great post - but I would not agree that he was considered one of the greatest post-war Romanian poets. I'm sure, for example, he doesn't figure in the various English-language collections of post-war Romanian poetry - which certainly include Marin Sorescu's poems one of which I reproduced last weekend. Romania's "best-known" poet might be a better way of describing (best known by the Romanian population at large that is). I notice, for example, that Romanian Voice gives him 60 poems as against 28 of Sorescu's- and all in Romanian.

It must look a trifle odd for me to sit in Translyvania and read about China! In fact a large part of yesterday was spent in the pages of one of two 1,000 page books which have just arrived – German Genius, a well-produced book by Peter Watson which attempts to rectify what he (rightly) considers to be a serious ignorance by the English-speaking world of what Germany has contributed to the world in the past 200 years. I’ve previously confessed my Germanophilia – which I owe to my father. I read and speak the language, respect their professionalism and political life and admire the society they have built in the past 60 years. The long introduction of German Genius summarises various recent debates about the distinctiveness of german development (eg the “Historikerstreit” of the 1980s and the later “Sonderweg” thesis) is intellectual history at its best and demonstrate the depth of Watson’s reading and understanding. I found it difficult to get through an earlier book of his – A Terrible Beauty – the people and ideas that shaped the modern mind but find myself turing the pages of this massive book very eagerly. It helps that the chapters are short!
The little lane at the bootom of the garden was very busy yesterday – first a van which turned out to be from the electricity company with a maintenance team who lopped branches from trees which were in danger of fouling the line. This left a few trunks which will be a useful addition to my stock – and I duly trimmed and carried them up to the house. Very useful exercise! And today I will saw them into suitable sizes. Then a tractor towing a trailer full of cut logs for someone’s fire came by. Normally only the cows wander down this track.

In the evening I resumed my reading of the very useful One No, Many yeses by Paul Kingsnorth which contains great descriptions of and conversations with people who are standing up for their rights in places such as Papua New Guinea, Brazil or Boulder, Colorado. Now I’m into the section on the alternatives to the large corporations who poison our bodies and mind and destroy so much of our civilisation. He listens to David Korten at the 2002 Porto Alegre Social Forum and makes me feel guilty about sitting here and doing so little in this struggle. Instead of thinking about a paper for the next NISPAcee Conference (in May just down the road from here at Varna on the Black Sea), I should be attending conferences like the Social Fora!! But first, I have to sort out my mind - and read Olin Wright's Envisioning Real Utopias which I mentioned recently. Or at least, I should be linking up more actively with other sustainable livers in Romania and Bulgaria??

Universities are under the microscope at the moment – both in the UK and in Bulgaria

Graphic writing

Yesterday was very spectacular here – the light from the cloudless blue sky had a special edge to it - caused partly by the low arc the sun takes now which gives long shadows to the vegetation; and partly by the contrasting colours as the leaves in some of the trees turn yellow.
I spent the morning preparing a succulent lentil and vegetable soup and basking in the sun on the front verendah with another of Qiu Xiaoulong’s Shanghai detective Chen novels - Case of Two Cities – which seemed to me even better than the previous two I have read. Until now I read neither detective nor Chinese novels - Soul Mountain I had picked up by accident in the great knigomania chain of bookstores in Sofia simply because I noticed that the author, Gao Xingjian, had won the Nobel Prize for Literature. I had registered that the images and language were something special but had not followed up his other writing (or painting). But Chinese writing does seem to be rather special – hardly surprising that the savagery of both the 1970s cultural revolution and the headlong race for economic growth of the past 20 years has produced such incisive perspectives on humanity. In the scale of the upheaval, cruelty and absurdity it seems to have a lot in common with Europe's experience of the Black Death and 30 Years'War! By the evening I was well through a second book – Red Dust – a path through China – as picaresque and gripping in its tales of wanderings as Soul Mountain.
I have generally found English (as distinct fromIrish or Scottish!) novelists very two dimensional – but decided to give Anthony Powell a chance – not least because one reviwer in London Review of Books called his Dance to the Music of Time “one of English fiction’s few 20th century masterpieces”. After the vitality of the Chinese novels, the writing seemd to me so puerile if not pathetic.

Valentin Mandache’s post today reminds us of the depths into which Romania sank from the 1930s.

Most European countries are looking for huge savings in their national budgets. The UK Parliament’s Public Accounts Committee has just published a report on previous efforts to cut public spending. 15 billion of 35 billion pounds savings were actually realised – and less than 40% sustainable ie 17% success rate.

absurd and autumnal Romania

The last week has seen glorous weather and I was sad to be missing the crispness of the mountain views – but the weather has held and I’ve just gone through the pleasure of opening up the Sirnea house for an unexpected visit in a warm early November. Sadly, Maritsa’s welcome was missing this time – the 80 year old hadn’t apparently been eating last week and has been taken to hospital in Brasov for a month. Viciu is therefore having to cope on his own – although, inevitably, he had his daughter from Bran and a friend doing various things in his kitchen when I arrived. It will be interesting to see how what he makes of my cooking! A few Amazon packets were waiting for me – the 2 Diderot books I mentioned in October; Primo Levi’s personal anthology (common book) The Search for Roots ; and a lovely hardback reproduction (complete with charming original sketches) of Jane Grigson’s 1971 Good Things which, as her opening sentence, nicely puts is “is not a cookery book but a book about enjoying food”.
Although so much of Romania has capitulated to American cultural crap, their television still manages to retain some great cultural programmes – I was a great fan in the mid 1990s of Josef Sava’s music interviews and celebrations. And I was very impressed last night with an hour long tribute to a little known intellectual and journalist of the immediate post-war period who suffered (Candide like) every infliction which could be visited on an individual. A young communist, he was thrown into jail by every political regime – on one occasion for refusing to inform on his academic boss in Cluj, the famous poet Blaga. I lost count of the number of years he spent in jail (“such an enjoyable experience – with an Archbishop on the bunk above me; a philosopher to my right; and another academic to my left”) – although he did manage to escape to the West – only to return because he was missing his wife One of his publications. I noticed, was called Journal of a journalist without a journal. He died a couple of months before Ceauecesu fell. No wonder Romania has played such a role in the history of the absurd! The programme is part of a weekly series about such people.

A useful table

Sadly, the blog does not seem to offer the facility of showing tables. I found this table a very useful one when I first saw it some years ago - and have not so far been able to work into my thinking.
The practice of technical assistance in reshaping state structures in transition countries is stuck with the characteristics shown in the first column – although the rhetoric of “local ownership” of the past 5 years or so has moved the thinking to the second column. The challenge, I feel, is now two-fold, to make that rhetoric more of a reality and then to design systems of technical assistance that move us into the final 2 columns. Hopefully the reader can follow the logic.

Four approaches to development

Approach 1. Benevolent 2. Participatory3. Rights-based 4. Obligation-based

Core concept
1. Doing good
2. effectiveness
3. Rights of “have-nots”
4. Obligations of “haves”

Dominant mode
Technical
Social
political
Ethical

Relationships of donors to recipients -
Blueprinted
Consultative
transformative
Reflective

Stakeholders seen as -
Beneficiaries
implementers
Citizens
Guides, teachers

accountability -
Upward to aid agency
Upward with some downward
multiple
Personal

Procedures -
conformity
diverse
negotiated
Learning

Organizational drivers -
Pressure to disburse
Balanced
Pressure for results
Expectations of responsible use of discretion

Source; Ideas for Development: R. Chambers (2005) p 208)

Sala Radio

I’m glad to report on a great Syrian shop (with everything you could expect from such a shop – not least the glorious smell as you enter) in the Matache area just 10 minutes walk from the flat at Piata Victoreii – just before the corner which takes you to Sala Radio (equivalent of BBC) quite a salubrious area amongst the general squalour of Matache. I emerged with my rucksack laden.
Daniela had reported from the radio special prices for their CDs – instead of which we were taken in a very knowledgeable pensioned group on a tour around the studios! One of the two 2 lady guides was so bowled over with having a foreigner to chaperone that she arranged for a dungeon to be opened in the PR Office to make sure I could buy some CDs! The Studios are celebrating their 82nd anniversary – and the Enescu disc I am listening to is a 1951 recording of some of his pieces under his baton! Quite incredible! This city could grow on me! And I’ve just noticed that they have a special station devoted to Romanian villages . It’s some years since we attended one of their live concerts – and they have a good chamber performance tomorrow evening – so I’ve made a promise!
On the way back, we also hit an interesting Indian/Turkish tea/coffee house – with Nargilae. Thank goodness, political correctness has not hit this place!
As I listen to Enescu, I am preparing with the lamb (so rare to find here) one of my Indian specialities. Already, in my enthusiasm, I have overspiced it – with the green thyme powder and garam marsala powders I so seldom get a chance to use. So I have hurriedly added raw carrot and potato slices before She Who Has To Be Obeyed arrives back from Obor market and spots the excess!
It’s important I clarify why yesterday’s blow-by-blow account of the interrogation at the Beijing police station is so important (for me). Abstract discussions are fine – but what counts is being able to challenge individual behaviour and conversations. That’s why my post last month about the falsity of the Statement of Interests entry of the young Romanian high-flier State Secretary was, for me, so important. Why can’t pensioners everywhere track such things???????

A brave lawyer

Lawyers generally get a poor press - so I am pleased to pay tribute to those Chinese lawyers who, for the past decade, have been the vanguard of the struggle for rule of law in that country. Reading of individuals who risk everything by standing up for the right of ordinary people to be treated with respect and decency (by the forces of authority) always brings tears to my eyes. It's one reason why I admire Criag Murray - whose Murder in Samarkand should be on the required reading list of all soial science students. And I had been appalled by reading of the treatment of the blind lawyer Chen Guagcheng who made so enemies by his taking municipal authorities to court for the way in which they dispossed villagers of their homes to allow the authorities to sell the land for property development. The clear (if slow and reluctant) progress China is making in building rule of law is due to such individuals.
Recently, prominent human rights lawyer Pu Zhiqiang had a verbal exchange with Dong Yansheng, deputy director of Fengtai Section of Domestic Security Department of Beijing Public Security Bureau, when Pu was detained following the Nobel Peace Prize announcement. The following transcript is taken from Pu Zhiqiang’s tweets describing the incident. Pu Zhiqiang is a lawyer at the Beijing Huayi Law Firm who takes on many civil rights cases. He was a student leader in the 1989 protests and is a close friend of Liu Xiaobo’s. This is an incredibly brave initiative.

Translated by China Digital Times:
On October 10, Dong Yansheng dispatched Wang Yigang, a police officer from Fengtai Section Of Domestic Security Department of Beijing Public Security Bureau, to take me away and detain me. Wang Yigang apologized for his brutality on the spot, but they detained me in Fanjiacun Police Station, and I quarreled until one o’clock in the early morning. I refused to promise not to receive media interviews, and invited People’s Daily, Xinhua News Agency and Global Times to interview me about the Nobel Peace Prize Award, so I was lucky to be “triple-accompanied” [Editor’s note: slang for being escorted, in this case under tight police surveillance] for three days in Zhouyang Hotel which is near the Sanhuan New Plaza. Last night I was released and went home, but was still not allowed to turn on my cell phone. Today I came to Yichun city to handle Feng Yongming’s case, under surveillance. Thanks for the care and attention from friends; I will give a more detailed account of what has happened later on.
Deputy Director Dong Yansheng brusquely said, “Liu Xiaobo won that award, what’s the big deal? Look at you Pu Zhiqiang. You jump around all excited, like you are drugged. I tell you, granting the award to Liu Xiaobo is the action of the western anti-China forces’ conspiracy to subvert the Chinese government. And you people receive foreign media interviews, which is assisting the western anti-China forces to subvert the Chinese government!”

I answered Dong Yansheng: “Awarding Liu Xiaobo is the mainstream civilization’s [the world’s] acknowledgment of his peaceful, non-violent efforts. Such good news cannot be hidden or suppressed, and I am excited and send Xiaobo and his wife my best greetings. The Chinese Communist Party needs to learn how to face the fact that the Nobel Peace Prize Award winner is sitting in a dark jail in China. Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao don’t know what to do about this, so it’s time to lift the media censorship, pave a way for the whole society to reach a consensus, and move forward. You are acting blindly and this will just further tarnish the image of your party bosses.”

I corrected Dong Yansheng: “You were talking about the anti-China forces’ attempt to subvert the Chinese government, but such nonsense only reflects you’re outdated and shallow, like you are stuck in the 1980s. Your remarks went against the lines marked by Wen Jiabao in his recent speeches and that of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. See, only Ma Zhaoxu (MFA spokesman) dared to criticize the Nobel Prize Award Committee for blaspheming against the award; how come such a low official like you dares to make such a blunt speech to create enemies for the Hu administration? I am asking you to show me, where are the anti-China forces from the west?

Dong Yansheng pointed at my nose and said: “You denounce the Chinese Communist Party, so you are making yourself a target for attack by the public security authority. I am now officially informing you, you are subject to my control [管制]. Where I want you to go, you need to go. When I want you to leave, you need to leave!” I started to educate him: “Control [管制] is a criminal punishment and is only decided by a court verdict. You are law illiterate, not even qualified to speak! The government deserves to be vilified, and so long as I am not breaking the law I can use my own devices. But you need to have procedures otherwise you are violating the law.”
Dong Yansheng put a label on me: “ Pu Zhiqiang, you are a f**king traitor and running dog for the western countries. You received foreign media interviews, just like Liu Xiaobo, you are a damn f**king traitor to your motherland!” I asked him: “ Who is a running dog? Who is betraying his country? We both know very well in our hearts. You said I am a traitor, but could you explain to me who sold out the country? Who marked the new boundaries between China and India? Do you know which rank is qualified to sell his country?”
Dong Yansheng laughed and said: “You must have made quite good money, eh? Bought a new house? You’d better move the hell out of my turf, you are driving me mad!” I replied, quite frankly, “Yes, I made good money , bought another house. But when I move, I will pray you are promoted to head the security troop in the district I am about to move into. I will find out which district you are about to be assigned to, and I will definitely buy a house and transfer my residence file to that district. We are familiar with each other, so I will glue myself to you until you have to peel off your dirty police uniform and lose your job!”
Dong Yansheng said:”Tell me how you allied with Liu Xiaobo to conspire to draft Charter 08. Have you changed your attitude?” “You interrogated me on this issue last spring,” I responded. “Today you dragged me here afraid I will receive media interviews. So this topic is irrelevant to your duty today, and I need not answer your questions in this regard. But I tell you, I am just one of the signatories and I didn’t participate in the drafting. I don’t have the research skills or level of theory. You go home and take a good look at the Charter 08, and find out how similar it is to the values that the Chinese Communist Party tried to sell during the 1930s at Yan’an [when the CCP gathered in the Yan’an revolutionary base and prepared themselves to fight the Kuomintang government]. Charter 08 is not reactionary, don’t you understand? ”
I bragged to Dong Yansheng: “My friend Xiao Shu is a famous guy. He compiled all the beautiful words the Communist Party used in an attempt to flatter the Americans when it was trying to overthrow the Kuomintang dictatorship in the 1940s, including many pieces from Xinhua Daily commentaries and official top leaders’ speeches, and published a book titled “Pioneering Voices in History.” But, it was banned by the authorities. Why? Seems the CCP still has a sense of shame. But why did people like you take on the duty and become bloody shameless?”
Dong Yansheng said : “Don’t make yourself believe I have no way to deal with you. I am telling you, the CCP has measures to take care of traitors like you! When you went back and forth to Shijiazhuang city, we carefully recorded all the details, where you went, who you talked to. Sooner or later, we will get you for this! Tell us where you went the other day, whom you met, and what you discussed!”
“I don’t remember,” I responded. “You’ve taken such good notes, so why bother asking me again?” “I want YOU to tell me!” “I just won’t, what are you going to do to me?”
Dong Shansheng and Wang Yigang have both asked me: “Hey, why did Norway give the award to Liu Xiaobo? How much money will that award bring then? He has no way to go abroad, who will go to help him pick up the award then? How will you folks split the money? You’re all so greedy.” I answered: “Those five old men, they are free from government control, they can give the money to whomever they want to, and this year, they decided to grant the award to this big ‘stammerer’.” [Editor’s note: Liu Xiaobo stammers and his friends joke him about this]. Also a man like Liu Xiaobo, he can keep his cool on things like this. This is called going down in history, you understand?”
At six o’clock in the evening, the domestic security officers dragged me to the public security station, and Dong Yansheng arrived soon after. I was still in a bad mood: “Your men broke the law!” “Here you go again! What did they do to break the law? Whatever we do to you will never be understood as violating the law. We are taking out a summons against you according to the law! We have power, we can take out a summons on you whenever we want!” “Where is your legal procedure then? Do you have it?” “Oral authorization! I tell you, we have all the authorization we need! Procedure is easy!” “Easy? Then why can’t you show it to me?”

Dong Yangsheng coaxed me, showing tough mercy: “Making money is good, isn’t it?” he said. “With such good conditions and so much space, all of us in the system have actually given you a lot of face. Do you really believe you grew so successful solely on your own?”
I yield to neither coercion or persuasion. I said: “Money is good, but how much is enough? I have never gotten favors from anybody, I made my success because of my own efforts.” I heard Wang Yigang exhale loudly, so I turned around, stared at him, saying: ”What’s up? You don’t agree? Do you believe if you take off your uniform, you are nothing?
I also tried to persuade him: ”You haven’t made good money but have developed quite a lot of faults. You deserve to be made a scapegoat. You’re running around blindly but never know what you are running after, and you are not allowed to ask. Why do you have to jump up and down like this? What’s the reward? I know in your system, there is no place for reasoning, but do you want to be promoted? I can give you some tips. Old Dong, you are a deputy director, if you want to become the chief, the only shortcut is to hire two murderers to kill the incumbent chief.”
I complained to Old Dong that Wang Yigang had injured my left shoulder, but he tried to protect his team by playing dumb. He said: “If you are embarrassed to cooperate with us, you should just be flexible. Don’t strike back when they are trying to catch you. If you hit back, they no doubt have to use force. Hey you,” he shouted at his team buddies. “If Old Pu resists again, you should do the same thing again!”
I tried to change the topic by saying. “Once again, today you acted in bad faith. You spent three hours asking for orders from your superiors but still failed. You tell me do you really have authority or you are also just a running dog?”
By October 11th, I was notified that one of my cases would open trial in Yichun City. That afternoon, Dong came. “You have a court hearing to go to?” he asked. “Yes.” “They sent you a summons?” “No, they didn’t.” “No? Then how did you know it?” “My colleagues told me.” “How did they pass you the information?” “ Via email.” He put on a long face, “You used the Internet? Who approved you to use the Internet?” I got angry: “I did use the Internet! So what? Did I break the law? Who said I couldn’t use the Internet? It’s you who broke the law and I am going to write all of this down and make it public!” “Absolutely don’t write it now!” “Then fine, I will write it right after I am freed! ”
Following the quarrel on October 11th, Dong started to have a heart-to-heart chat: “Just between us, I am here for your own good, to let you reflect and do thought work on you; this is still based on your rescue.” “Thank you so much! The relationship between the CCP and me should be categorized as enemy contradiction, but you are handling it as an internal conflict. On the other hand, any problems that surface among the people in this country should fall into internal conflicts while you police handle them as enemies. Since when did you police officers start to manage people’s thoughts? You want to manage my thoughts? You must be joking. There is only one guy surnamed Dong who could do this, but he was bombed to hell a long time ago. [Editor’s note: In the CCP’s revolutionary history textbook, a PLA solder named Dong Cunrui was commemorated as a model of selfless sacrifice, after he lost his life in a battle against the Kuomingtang military.]

On October 10th, Dong was feeling magnificent. “You listen to me!” he said. “I tell you, you should be clear about the current situation and don’t brag to me!” “It’s you who are talking big! “ I interrupted. “Remember,” I said, “ I am f***in awesome! I bet you dare not use force on me, nor is it necessary to use forced interrogation, because I have made my actions and behavior extremely clear to you. So let’s see what are you going to do? You don’t even have legal authorization, but have bullied me, and you dare to talk big with me?!”
By 5:30pm, October 11th afternoon, Old Dong stood up and said : “OK, you can go on your business trip now. Have a good trip but don’t receive media interviews!” “On a specific topic or on everything?” I asked. “On the case of Liu Xiaobo!” he said. “No, I cannot agree,” I responded. “If you dare to talk to the media…” he said, but I once again stopped him by asking, “Then what? You will run to the northeast to arrest me?” “You will pay as soon as you get back!” he responded. “Nonsense,” I said. “All you can do is “triple-accompany” me, anything else? How will I pay? Hah, Old Dong, your words can be really tough!”
“I won’t waste my damn time talking with you,” he said.

UPDATED TRANSLATION
I just refreshed my memory, the second half of the conversation with Dong Yansheng was on the afternoon of October 12th, not 11th, sorry. Actually he is not a bad man. He is from the background of criminal police and good at what he does, and basically kind to his buddies and even enemies like me. It is not easy to be in the domestic security police force. He is just in the role of a police officer, so he and I always clash. Once he overcomes his own mental block, I believe we eventually will be friends.
The painting is a 16th Century Dutch painting of The Lawyer's Office

wine, women and books

The Saturday weekend clean-up drove me out of the apartment – and I went to check first what refrigerators (what a word!) are on offer which can actually fit our tiny flat (no more than 56 centrimetres across to get into the small verandah) - and picked up some lovely (purple) Turkish figs at a nearby market. The greenish/white figs I found growing on the Baku tress transformed my attitude to that fruit. And I also managed to find some Iran dates – which are so easy to find in Sofia. Hope to use them for my red cabbage recipe. The next step was to check the quality of the wine (a very challenging task!) on offer in the Matache area – a rather down and out part of the city very near the Gara de Nord where there are several shops which have barrels of wine fot tasting from several different wine areas – the best are Dealul Mare and Recas.
The first Degustare I visited specialises in the first area (Urlati to be precise)– and they offered me both red and white Pelin. Reluctantly I agreed to taste the red – I had been a devotee of this quasi-Vermouth when I first tasted its white version in Bulgaria but have subsequently gone off it. But the Romanian red variety is actually very tasty. I was also persuaded to buy 2 litres of Feteasca Alba and Cabernet Sauvigon but was not quite convinced I had quite the same quality as the wine cellar in Rasnov offers so I went round the corner to the Recas (on Danube) shop and found a superb Riesling-Pinot Gris mixture – all for less than 2 euros litre.
My recent writing efforts have been interrupted by hilarious gusts of laughter (and unsolicited translations) from my partner who bought an EM Cioran book a couple of days ago as we were waiting for the dreadful Russian film on Beria. Cioran, although born in rural Romania, lived in Paris all his adult life in cultivated poverty wrote disjointed pessimistic and absurdist epithets which you enjoy, I am assured, by not taking them seriously. Here, for me, is a typical one -

"I seem to myself, among civilized men, an intruder, a troglodyte enamored of decrepitude, plunged into subversive prayers."

I am told that this is not typical – so, from the 151 Cioran quotes available on internet, let me offer another

"Never to have occasion to take a position, to make up one's mind, or to define oneself - there is no wish I make more often."

I prefer the verse of Marin Sorescu – whose Asking Too Much is one of my favourite poems. Thanks to Michael Hamburger and the Poetry Foundation, here it is

Suppose that, to give a few lectures,
daily you had to commute
between Heaven and Hell:
what would you take with you?’

‘A book, a bottle of wine and a woman, Lord.
Is that asking too much?’

‘Too much. We’ll cross out the woman,
she would involve you in conversations,
put ideas into your head,
and your preparation would suffer.’

‘I beseech you, cross out the book,
I’ll write it myself, Lord, if only
I have the bottle of wine and the woman.
That’s my wish and my need. Is it too much?’

‘You’re asking too much.
What, supposing that daily,
to give a few lectures, you had
to commute between Heaven and Hell, would
you take with you?’

‘A bottle of wine and a woman,
if I may make so free.’
‘That’s what you wanted before, don’t be obstinate,
it’s too much, as you know. We’ll cross out the woman.’

‘What do you have against her, why do you persecute her?
Cross out the bottle rather,
wine weakens me, almost leaves me unable
to draw from my loved one’s eyes
inspiration for those lectures.’

Silence, for minutes
or an eternity.
Respite. In which to forget.

‘Well, suppose that to give
a few lectures you had to commute
daily between Heaven and Hell:
what would you take with you?’

‘A woman, Lord, if I may make so free.’
‘You’re asking too much, we’ll cross out the woman.’
‘In that case cross out the lectures rather,
cross out Hell and Heaven for me,
it’s either all or nothing.
Useless and vain my commuting would be between Heaven
and Hell.
How could I even begin to frighten and awe
those poor creatures in Hell -
without teaching aid, the woman?
How strengthen the faith of the righteous in Heaven -
without the book’s exegesis?
How endure all the differences
in temperature, light and pressure
between Heaven and Hell
if I have no wine
on the way
to give me a bit of courage?’