Ce NU am uitat
Mama mi-a trimis aseara link-ul acestui video pe whatsapp. Am mai adormit abia spre dimineata, caci toata noaptea m-am gandit la Ioan Luchian Mihalea si la anii mei de Minisong.
EN: My mother sent me the link to this video on WhatsApp last night. I managed to fall asleep only in the morning, because I spent the entire night thinking about Ioan Luchian Mihalea and my years in Minisong.
Am stat probabil zeci de minute cu ochii deschisi in bezna camerei, incercand sa dau jos praful de pe amintirile mele dragi cu Profu’. La un moment dat, mi-am luat telefonul de pe noptiera si i-am cautat numele pe net. Asa am gasit unele imagini cu el pe care nu le mai revazusem in ultimii 20 – 25 ani, dar pe care le stiam inca incredibil de bine. Inclusiv pe cele de la moartea lui. In decembrie ’93 erau pline ziarele de ele, iar eu le decupam cu grija si le lipeam intr-un album cu coperta rosie si niste crabi portocalii, pe care il primisem cadou – culmea – de la o familie de belgieni pe care o cunoscusem cu ocazia turneului din ’91, adica fix cel din video. Umplusem un album cu toate stirile si imaginile care mi se pareau relevante, la cei 8 ani ai mei, sperand ca voi gasi singura criminalul, inaintea politiei. De altfel, in fiecare noapte ma culcam rugandu-ma sa il visez pe cel care l-a omorat, pentru a-l putea denunta. Cu toate aceastea, credeam ca stersesem demult din memorie anumite imagini cu Mihalea, caci nu le mai accesasem de nu mai stiu cand si nici nu imi mai apareau in minte cand ii rosteam numele sau cand, intamplator, ma mai intalneam cu vreun fost coleg din Minisong. Dar azi-noapte mi-am dat seama ca, totusi, creierul meu a decis ca anumite imagini, anumite amintiri, trebuie sa ramana in folderul “pentru totdeauna”. Sau poate memoria este intr-adevar infinita. Dar atunci de ce fir-ar sa fie nu imi aduc aminte mai multe detalii si despre spectacolul acesta din video, de exemplu? De ce?! Ma intristeaza teribil gandul ca voi pierde si alte amintiri cu el, “tatal meu din turnee”, asa cum ma ingrozeste gandul ca voi pierde si ca se vor degrada amintirile pe care le am cu tata.
Dar nu i-am uitat deloc vocea si felul cald de a vorbi. Ascultati cum le vorbea acelor straini. Avea o energie pe scena pe care nu am mai intalnit-o la nimeni altcineva in toti anii acestia. Nu era nimic demonstrativ, nimic exagerat in felul lui de-a fi. Era firesc, dar cuceritor in tot. Nu i-am uitat rasul, zambetul sau cum ne facea cu ochiul cand se intorcea cu spatele la public.
Nu am uitat nici ca prima mea iesire din tara a fost cu el, in Belgia. Cand ne-am suit in autocar ne-a zis “De acum eu sunt mama, tata, pipi, caca”. Mama ma batuse atat de tare la cap sa cer la pipi cand am nevoie, sa nu ma tin, incat am urlat de pe scaunul meu ca am nevoie la toaleta cand inca nu iesisem din Bucuresti! Urmau 3 zile de drum, dar Mihalea s-a conformat si a coborat cu mine, rugandu-se de niste doamne de la un magazin sa ma lase sa le folosesc wc-ul, ca deh, face Dana Banana pipi. Apoi m-am sincronizat cu opririle tuturor. Imi placeau la nebunie baile benzinariilor la care oprea autocarul in afara granitelor tarii. Ramaneam fascinata in fata uscatorului de maini, pana cand in spatele meu se facea coada de copii, la fel de dornici sa se joace cu aerul cald care sufla cu putere. Apoi fiecare tonomat cu Coca Cola si Mars mi se parea un parc de distractii in miniatura. Cand vedeam ca trece cate un strain pe langa mine, ma asezam in fata tonomatului, apasam nedumerita pe butoane, verificam daca pica ceva, pana cand reuseam sa il induiosez sa imi cumpere ce imi doream. Efectiv cerseam cu nerusinare, desi nu ma invatase nimeni.
In Belgia stateam la gazde, care se straduiau continuu sa ne faca sederea noua – copiilor romani proaspat iesiti din comunism – cat mai placuta. Primisem cadou de la familia de belgieni la care nimerisem eu si fratele meu o multime de haine si jucarii, cat si o pereche de tenisi a caror talpa se aprindea cand paseai. Nu am uitat cu cat de mare mandrie i-am aratat lui Mihalea tenisii mei la intalnirea de a doua zi. Mai aveau un pic si imi deformau mersul tenisii aia, atat de entuziasmata eram de ce stiau sa faca. Nu am uitat nici ca familia la care dormea Mihalea ii pregatise o camera cu un balon cu heliu. Primul balon pe care l-am vazut plutind in viata mea. Camera era batranicioasa, dar balonul acela era magie pura pentru mine. Ma impresionasera in mod bizar si “florile rosii”, Craciunitele, care inconjurau inclusiv scena din filmarea de mai sus. Erau peste tot in Belgia in luna decembrie si, atunci cand au aparut la noi in tara peste ani de zile, le-am considerat un semn al bunastarii.
Si nu am uitat in toti anii care au trecut nici poezia pe care mi-a scris-o Ioan Luchian Mihalea, cunoscandu-mi foarte bine familia, si pe care o recit in acest video cu maxima placere. Nu stiu cum, dar ma uit la mine si parca il vad pe Vlad.
O sa fac curand o vizita scolii 197, unde repetam cu Minisong-ul. Sper ca drumul pe jos de la casa copilariei mele si pana la acea scoala, apoi holurile, clasele si curtea ei interioara, sa imi improspateze si alte amintiri, la fel de puternice. Off, Profu’, ca tare dor imi e de tine.
EN: I probably stared at the ceiling in the darkness for hours, trying to dust off my dear memories about Profu’. At a certain point I grabbed my phone and googled his name. That’s how I found some images I haven’t seen in the past 20- 25 years, but which I knew incredibly well. Including those from his death. The newspapers were full of them in December ’93, and I used to cut them out carefully and glue them inside an album with red covers and orange crabs, which- ironically enough- I got from a Belgian family which I got to know during our ’91 tour, exactly the one in the video. I filled an entire album with all the news and images I found to be relevant, at my age, hoping that I could catch the killer before the police. I used to pray every night that I would have a dream about the one who killed him, so I could turn him in. And still, I thought I had deleted some of the images of Mihalea a long time ago, because I haven’t accessed them in a while and they didn’t show up in my memory when I said his name or when, by accident, I ran into a former colleague from Minisong. But last night I realized that my brain decided to certain images, certain memories, must be kept in the “forever” folder. Or maybe memory is truly infinite. But then again, why the heck don’t I remember more about this show, for example? Why?! I am incredibly sad that I will lose some of the memories of him, “my dad from tour”, just as I am terrified that I will lose or that the memories of my father will fade away.
But I never forgot his voice and his warm way of speaking. Just listen to him talking to those foreigners. He had a stage energy I never discovered in anyone else in all these years. Nothing was for show off nor exaggerated in his way of being. he was natural, but charming in every way. I never forgot his laughter, smile or the way he used to wink when he turned his back to the audience.
I never forgot that my first trip abroad was with him, to Belgium. When we got on the bus he said to us: “From now on I am mum, dad, potty”. My mother insisted so much that I say when I need to go to the toilet, that I yelled out that I needed to go before we left Bucharest! We had 3 days on the road ahead of us, but Mihalea conformed and he took me to a store where he begged those ladies to let me use their toilet, because Dana Banana needed to go. After that I synchronized with everyone else’s stops. I loved the bathrooms in the gas stations where our bus stopped outside the country’s borders. I was fascinated with the hand dryer, and I kept everyone waiting behind me to take their turn playing with the hot blown air. I felt like every vending machine with Coca Cola and Mars was a miniature amusement park. When I saw a foreigner passing, I would stand in front of the machine, while randomly pressing the buttons, checking if something had fallen out, until I managed to making him buy me what I wanted. I was literally begging with no shame, even though no one had taught me how to do it.
In Belgia we used to stay with families, who were constantly trying to make our stay as pleasant as possible. After all we were children who had just come out of communism. My brother and I received a ton of clothes and toys, but also a pair of sneakers with lights turning on when you walked in them. I never forgot how proud I was when I showed them to Mihalea the next day we met. My walk was almost deformed by those sneakers, that’s how excited I was by what they could do. I never forgot that the family Mihalea stayed with had set up a room for him with a helium balloon in it. That was the first floating balloon I had ever seen. The room was pretty outdated, but that balloon was pure magic to me. I was also bizarrely impressed by the “red flowers”, Christmas flowers, which were also decorating the stage from the video above. You could see them everywhere in December in Belgium and, when years later, they also showed up in our country, I considered them to be a sign of well-being.
And in all these years, I never forgot the poem Ioan Luchian Mihalea, who knew my family really well, wrote for me and which you can hear me saying so gladly in this video. I don’t know how, but I look at myself and I see Vlad.
Soon I’ll pay a visit to school 197, where we used to rehears with Minisong. I hope the walk from my childhood home to that school, then the hallways, the classrooms and its inner yard will refresh some other memories as well, which are just as strong. Oh, how I miss you, Profu’.