"A wizard is never late; he always arrives precisely when he means to."

As I mentioned in our last post, part of our trip to Romania has consisted of visiting the many relatives who live in and around Lugoj. These visits have been tiring for sure--usually beginning before lunch and ending around bedtime--but immensely rewarding. Our trip to the village in Tincova is one example.



Emma's father grew up in the village, raising animals and caring for gardens that fed their families. Knowing this but never being able to picture exactly what he was describing, I was excited for our trip to the village to see Emma's Tatae (grandpa, pro: ta-TIE-uh) and the sisters of her (now passed) Mamae (pro: ma-MY-uh). I was also excited because Romania has an interesting mix of walks of life. The cities are quite modern, as you'd expect; but driving on the road at sunset you'll often see a shepherd herding cattle down the street or a horse drawn cart carrying hay from the village. 

The village sits in the middle of rolling fields, some planted with corn, some forested, and some with outcroppings of prune trees. A Greek Orthodox church is in the center of town, surrounded by red-roofed houses where some 300 people live and work.

We first visited Emma's great Aunts, two elderly widows who continue to care for their homes, tend large gardens, and keep chickens--and some downright nasty roosters. Their children and four younger siblings live in apartments and houses in Lugoj and Timisoara--one is a chief administrator in the Lugoj city government--but they continue to stay in the village.

Uncle Jon doing his best Tatae impersonation.

Tatae leads a similar life. He lives by himself and cares for his small piece of land that has an apple tree in the back ("Now you'll get to taste a real apple--naturael," Emma's Aunt Ionna said). He also continues to work as a blacksmith using hand-powered tools. He laughed at I don't know what when he demonstrated the dance required to stoke the fire while simultaneously hammering on an anvil. He was overjoyed to see us when we pulled up, remembering Emma from when she was a little girl. In those moments he was giddy, excited to show us old pictures and tell stories. But in other moments he looked weathered. Between impromptu expositions on the goodness of the Lord, his mind would travel to a difficult memory and he would shrug his shoulders and say, "Ce sa faci?"--but what can I do?

"Love God and he'll never leave you; leave God and you'll be alone."
"Life is hard, but God has heaven waiting for us soon."
"Go another way and you'll always find trouble; go God's way and he'll take care of you."

He told us about that summer's drought and the dark clouds that have passed over without leaving rain; that he was worried about his potatoes and that his tomatoes weren't growing. And he told us that wanted to mend his relationships with others before he goes to God and that he was so happy to see his grandkids again.

We walked  with Tatae, Uncle Jon, and Aunt Ionna through the orchard fields to visit his wife's gravestone. We learned that when Tatae wanted to marry Mamae, she told him that she wouldn't be able to leave her family in the village or give up her family name--they meant too much to her. He obliged and took the name "Sarbu." As it happened, Uncle Jon and the other Sarbu brother had daughters, making Tatae's four sons the ones to carry on the surname.

Go ahead, be jealous Gabe.

 At dinner with one of the aunts and Tatae, we sampled Tuica (tsweek-ah), something similar to Cognac that is made by distilling fermented prune juice. Her aunt makes 500 liters a year from the prunes in the orchard and gives the bottles to family. Afterward we watched a shepherd lead his sheep back from pasture and a flock of geese wait anxiously outside their owner's door after returning from wherever they had gone that day to forage. As they parade through town, the animals know when to stop off at their own gates.

We said goodbye to Tatae and he gave us a sack of onions from his garden--"Better than anything I ever had in America. I never liked the onions or the milk in America."--and watched him standing by the gate where he had stood his entire life.

"First, you steal my goat; then, you put bugs in my rice..."