… so they decided to wake up very early on That Sunday and take the train to go to That Place and vote for Their President. Smiling and enthusiastic to be celebrating one year of partnership through such an important decision: the presidential vote.
After a half-an-hour journey, Don Quijote and Sancho Panza arrived at the closest tube station and saw what they had expected and been afraid of: the opponent of Their President was sabotaging the means of public transport. So a 20-minute trip turned into a one-hour journey. But regardless of the windmills they had to fight against, they were determined to reach the voting office.
The wind was so fierce and Don Quijote was so cold, but the two finally reached The Place where they were supposed to vote. The gates were closed and the street looked deserted, so they rang the bell. A peasant looking guy holding a paper in his hand sent them to another building, “15 minutes of walking”. So the two partners, without Rocinanta, started one more journey.
And all of the sudden, the strongest wind started blazing and the strongest rain started pouring. Their umbrella got broken and they were both wet to the skin, but moved on convinced their vote will make a difference, that they will change something, anything in That Country where Don Quijote wanted to return and Sancho Panza didn’t.
They passed by empty streets, the only brave ones to face the frightful weather. Apart from them, just a crazy British mother without an umbrella, pushing her baby’s pram and crying out loud: “Out of the way! Get out of the way!” Too bad for old Don Quijote, who didn’t hear the woman scream and was left with bruises all over his left foot, after being hit by the pram.
The strong wind seemed to be trying to stop the two from voting, pushing them backwards. Another way in which the opponent was sabotaging them. But they resisted, even the thin Don Quijote, almost carried away by the wind, who grasped Sancho Panza’s arm, for the sole reason he was a bit plumper than him.
And they finally made it to the other That Place, where they were to vote for their future. But when they got to the doors, they found a long queue continued outside the building, in the rain. The tiny two-bedroom looking poll office was full of people trying to find their way towards the five stamps.
After waiting for half an hour, filling in declarations in which they promised they wouldn’t take the plane on that day to Romania to vote once more, they grabbed the stamp and placed it on the name of Their President. Then went to enjoy a happy meal to celebrate their partnership and their great decision.
But as too few people voted for Their President, He didn’t make it to the second round, something Don Quijote actually expected. He just wanted to follow his conscience and promised not to vote with anyone else. And (that’s a secret he told me) he is quite glad not to go again to That Place, to vote for His President and to fight against all windmills in the world. Too bad His Country won’t look like he wanted it.
November 22, 2009
The campaign that never was
Posted by denisamorariu under Opinions and Comments, Romanian PoliticsLeave a Comment
It comes a time every five years when Romanians have the chance to choose their president among several candidates. But this year, in Romania, there was hardly anything that can be called presidential campaign.
Our politicians didn’t even try to make an effort. Unlike in other more civilized and developed countries, where candidates confront their plans and programmes, even considering the possibility that those are a bunch of political lies. At least, they give the impression they try to win the battle, that they do spend time thinking about promises – that they will keep or not. At least they have the decency and courage to meet face to face and answer to a moderator’s questions, while they do their best to convince people to vote them. Any politician with the intelligence not bigger than a nut would understand that talking to the people, coming in front of them, is the most important part in getting votes and they should appreciate any chance they are given to do that.
But Romania is different and so is everything related to it. It seemed like the last five years of the presidential mandate looked much more like a campaign than the last month, in which the official presidential campaign was supposed to take place. There was no debate in which more than three candidates participated. Some looked too frightened to confront their opponents or too sure of their success to take the risk of making mistakes. Some wanted a debate in three, others in five, others didn’t care. And when the main debated was set for five candidates, someone suddenly changed the format to seven, so those who agreed before didn’t agree anymore. Too complicated? It is just our human nature, our most obvious feature. So, after almost a month of campaigning, more or less – actually less than more – the candidates finally agreed to meet. And not all, but just three of them, those credited with the highest chances to enter a second round. And that just two days before the elections!
It was simply the poorest, most invisible presidential campaign I can recall. It was the campaign that never was.