I was born in the Republic of Moldova, slightly before it broke loose its communist story declaring its independence. I can hardly remember myself during that time so the tumultuous events taking place create a story I am reading about, seeing photos of. In November 1989 there were people, lots of people, in the main square raging all together. My parents were among them. Many parents were among them.
After a couple of detours around the world, I find myself here in the Czech Republic reading "My Crazy Century" by Ivan Klima, working in a multicultural office with people coming from everywhere you can think of.
Ivan Klima tells the story of freedom in this book. Freedom of speech, freedom of moving around, freedom of choice, freedom of creation- all freedoms we take for granted nowadays. In all honesty, this is the first work of him I read and I think it was lucky for me since I could "see" and "feel" the material which lead him to the creation of his novels, essays and articles. The story sent me back in time to when I was growing up in Moldova, reading about the atrocities happening to the Romanian writers under the communist surveillance.
Having this blood in my veins, having lived through all I lived, having read what I read and gone to the places I've been, returning from time to time to the Moldova I return, the question I ask myself now is :
Who am I? What is my Identity ? What is the culture I identify with?
Am I Moldovan? What does it mean to be a Moldovan ?
Does it mean being lost in the world looking for a place to call home ?
Does it mean speaking the Romania language ? I hardly use it and if I do it is just to connect with another Moldovan or Romanian at work. Sometimes I don't have the Romania words in my head anymore. If I don't have the language, what do I have?
Does Moldovan mean having parents back there waiting for news from outside and the next time their children come home?
Does it mean living in a never ending state of revolt and homelessness?
What is the story I am telling myself?
This is not my first blog or storytelling attempt. I have been writing (talking to myself essentially in public) for 2 years on a different platform which does not exist anymore.
I don't like that story anymore.
After over a year of "silence", seeing, accepting and learning to love my shortcomings, I am giving myself another chance.
This is a different story, spoken with the same radical sincerity. I am the last person around here to kid myself.
This is the story when I dedicate my whole being to the life I can imagine and live.
What does this life look like? It is a simplicity, clarity, courage and connection based life.
In the end, I believe the culture I identify with is the one of courage, endurance, curiosity, belief in the the power of life, the good and love.
Let me tell you about it, maybe you will be inspired to make a different story for yourself.