15.5 C
March 4, 2021

The Candidate

It’s Sunday and it’s a hot day. Me and some of my friends gathered to have a glass of lemonade and some coolness in the green yard of one of us.

It’s a big deal not to have to live in Bucharest in the hot periods of the year. Actually, it’s a big deal not to have to live in Bucharest.

One week from now we have elections. “I won’t go”, suddenly says one of us, lying on a wicker armchair, covered by the thick shadow of a walnut.

All of us remain quiet. Each of us looks tired and absent around him or in the glass of lemonade in his front, as the one who spoke was rhetorically speaking, addressing to his own thought or to the single thought all of us have related to the voting moment coming on June 5.

– Well, I guess many people will not go, I said with a drawling voice after a while.

My answer came from the inertia of the man who feels that he must explain, somehow, to the others, things that are more than obvious, when it comes about politics.

I am thinking: “What a stupid thing for me to say this”, and I realize that deep in my heart, I feel somehow ashamed and guilty, although it’s absurd, for this completely wrong reality in which all of us live and which brings us so many bad moods and so many unhappiness.

It’s that absurd feeling of guilt which you feel in front of your impossibility to make things to be different, so that you could change somehow the reality and its bad consequences, although you know this impossibility is not caused exclusively by you and you cannot fight windmills or a giant, hoping that you will win only using a spear or a sling.

Silence continues to press hard around us. Nobody cares anymore about the campaign and the vote. People had enough. All of us lost our interest and power when it comes about politics, somewhere on the long and difficult road which we went through until this Sunday.

– Well, yep… It’s a mockery, a cheap and ridiculous circus. As for me, I had enough of them and their perfidious game. I know them so well…

Like an echo, another friend of mine launches this arrow into the surrounding silence. There’s much frustration and bitterness in that man’s voice. But there’s also a lot of irritation. That’s what always happens. People become automatically irritated when somebody launches in ether the subject of the Romanian politics.

When did we become so angry, bored and indifferent to all what politics means in the country we live in?

And, especially, why?

The answer is simple and it’s here, under our nose.

All you have to do is to turn on the TV and try to watch the news or the political talk-shows, regardless during the day or night.

Not to mention that the Internet is full like a river of information and signals coming all the time, which most of the times you don’t know how to avoid better, so that the asthenia will not hit you and you will not ruin your day with all the craps and stupid things which permanently flow in the virtual influx related to the political world.

It has become a crazy thing to always hear the words “political” and “politicians” pronounced around you.

It’s like somebody would tease you constantly with a piece of metal slowly and sadistically rubbed on another piece of metal.

Besides, in the end, it’s enough for you to be a Romanian citizen and to have get out on the street and to live day by day, minute by minute, and second by second in Romania.

And when it comes about the campaign and the candidates…

What campaign, what candidates?

Actually, the real and great irony about all that politics and its people mean and especially about what they don’t mean in this country, always comes out from the mouth of some great and illustrious politician – “The electoral campaign is magnificent, adorable, but it’s completely missing”, said Calin Tariceanu last days.

And the candidates… Oh, well…

What part from the person of Mrs. Firea, or Mr. Predoiu, or from the person of the turbulent and rebel new so-called politician Nicusor Dan could impel you to make an effort of convincing yourself that it’s worth going (again!) at the ballot box on the next Sunday?

How could you wish anymore to choose something bearing different names but, obviously, in a desperate effort specific to a clown who is specialized in throwing more balls in the air in the same time and catching them safely with different parts of his body, is trying to convince you that Nicusor Dan is worth acquiring the vote of confidence from Mr. Predoiu, while completely overlapping Mrs. Firea the result will be a political mutation, bearing the name of the Mayor of the capital and being meant to make good things for the citizens?

Who can understand what from the Sava-Piedone duplications and from the sequential multiplications from the other districts, making you feel you are in the room with magical mirrors of a communal fair?

There were some years when Romanian people were voting in order to express their negative vote.

At least for this. At that time, there were still existing the hope that if you express your dissatisfaction by cancelling a ballot, that could be a form of direct and lawful protest for all the bad things and miseries which a politician and his people are making behind us since years ago.

Now, not even this impulse exists anymore. Why? Because most of the people realized the stupidity of this completely unequal and indifferent gesture in the terms of consequences and finality for the politics.

Since Emil Boc can say that he didn’t bother to make electoral campaign for himself because the polls indicate him as a winner with 60 percent for the position of the Mayor of Cluj, why, then, would any Cluj citizen bother to express his option on the ballot on June 5? It’s an absurd thing even for a child to wish something independent of his wish or choice.

Three months before the current campaign started, campaign was performed. We were mentally aggressed and hit directly in our retina by the huge banners bearing the faces of those who were then (because later the change was changed like in a shell game) presented to us as candidates to the seats of mayors in Bucharest.

After this, as it usually happens, politicians have suddenly decided that this year the electoral campaign has to be performed without advertise and without impact.

This measure, allegedly, was decided in order to calm down the irritation and the mental of the elector who was completely annoyed by the previous Romanian electoral campaign. What an irony! What an absurdity!

But we got used to these things, isn’t it so?

The thief comes quietly, with no fanfare.

Besides, the wedding where the bride is the same as the one you have home since 27 years ago, makes the current future bride to cover her face as good as she can, to fool one more time the innocent groom, who hopes to marry a young fresh blushed girl, and not the same sour and withered woman he knows since so long and who made him get out of his mind.

Somebody asked me these days which is the purpose of the circus made by Firea, Predoiu and Nicusor Dan when they speak about passing the supporting vote from one to another, or when they say that they will leave the campaign or when the parties having the power are launching rumors about postponing these elections.

Subsequently, the same man answered: These guys are trying to blow our minds. Actually, they’ve already elected themselves!! They have shaken their hands one to each other and they know who will take the seat from the Bucharest City Hall!! Actually, it’s about all the seats, from all the town halls!!!

I was almost ready to simply go to that man, to embrace him and to kiss him on both cheeks, like you would do to a smart kid who puts you a question with an included answer, having the most profound innocence of the ignorance, and then EVRIKA!! But the little man is the one who answers himself with the eyes twinkling amazed in front of his own revelation.

Today, on this hot Sunday and only one week before June 5, all of us are exactly like that man.

We know the result of the vote is already established.

Who is the winner?

How can we ask who?

The Candidate.

Besides, each of us guesses who this candidate is.

No, it’s not a “she”, it’s not a late rebel pretending he’s a Mesia who escaped from Woodstock and landed timeless on the Dambovita’s shore; it’s not an undercover officer who looks like a journalist looking for scandal news and having increased protection from the political figures which own a sense of humor close to the playful cynicism.

It’s an ordinary “he”. A “he” whose lookalike we already know. Because it is at Cotroceni. And because we’ve been there before, in this fair of the sad political ironies.

He’s the most tarnished, linear and predictable man. He’s the man you can pass near, like you would pass near a fence or a wall, without realizing that there’s a human being there.

Only that we ran at that time of Ponta’s political arrogance and immaturity to reach exactly in front of the wall of silence which was bearing the huge and impressing picture of Klaus Iohannis. And we hit our heads by him. There’s no hole in the sky, nor Heaven in Romania. But even a larger breach has been created between us and them, between truth and another huge political trap in which all of us fell.

It’s a great nothing posing into the savior of the nation.

We are not running anymore. We are tired, confused and indifferent. Therefore, now the chosen one is the one who we don’t care most of all.


This is why, most likely, next Sunday (June 5), as it will be a summer day as hot and enervating as this one, we will choose to drink our refreshments and to have a rest in the shade of some thicket or, simply, at home, in the blessed coolness from the intimacy of our house, far away from the unleashed world of politics.

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