aici<\/a><\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nFor as long as he could remember Sandu Ghiran had worked like a slave, except he wasn\u2019t a slave because he worked for himself alone.\u00a0 He had toiled like a beast since he was a child until now when he had two grown up children. Mariana was married and living in the city.\u00a0 She had made a good match: Ninel, her husband, worked in the traffic control department at the police station, and his bosses liked him because he was a first class mechanic as well as a superb driver\u00a0 They had a one bed-roomed flat, well furnished, a TV, a freezer, and could manage without a car for the time being as Ninel had permission to sign out the unmarked police car he drove at work for his own use once in a while.<\/p>\n
Gore, his son, was still living at home with him, and that\u2019s where Sandu wanted him to stay.\u00a0 It was for his son he worked so hard.\u00a0 Sandu had staked his claim to the maximum acreage President Iliescu had allowed the people and cultivated it all.\u00a0 He had planted a vineyard, grown plum, cherry plum, and apple trees, meadows of grass, lucerne grass, and fields of corn, peas, beans, sugar beet, and pumpkins; and made a garden round his cottage.\u00a0 His plots were spread all over the village, on fruitful, God willing, land.\u00a0 Agriculture is a lottery: if it rains and there\u2019s no hail, you\u2019re a rich man.\u00a0 If there\u2019s a frost when the trees are blossoming, then you\u2019re poor.\u00a0 Sandu Ghiran had seen God as both hail and sun, and accepted it: after all He\u2019s all powerful.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Mariana and Gore had helped him, too.\u00a0 Mariana had married young, at seventeen, and Sandu had wanted to give her a dowry but Ninel said he didn\u2019t need one and would take her with just the clothes she stood up in.\u00a0 Sandu gave him a fierce look, narrowing his eyes, and Ninel bowed his head apologetically and blushed, realizing he had spoken tactlessly without thinking.\u00a0 Sandu brought them some blueberry brandy which they drank as they discussed their options and decided on a course of action.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
So Mariana took off and Gore was left behind.\u00a0 At barely sixteen he was already taller than his father.\u00a0 Gore had huge hands the size of hams, and was as strong as a horse, cut out for strenuous physical work.\u00a0 He had spent eight years at school and knew all that was necessary, was no fool.\u00a0 Gore laboured unflaggingly.\u00a0 \u2018He works for himself!\u2019, Sandu would say whenever his neighbour accused him of working the boy to death.\u00a0 Gore knew that everything, the house and land, would be his one day and never answered his father back.\u00a0 His voice was ice cold, always had been.\u00a0 Their conversations were short, quick and clear cut.\u00a0 Sandu Ghiran didn\u2019t waffle, or just speak for the sake of it and neither did Gore.\u00a0 He knew what he had to accomplish, and how much needed doing, and during the summer they were rushed off their feet.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Under the hill, higher up the road than the fountain, built by a couple in the memory of their child who had been killed in a car accident there, tourists would occasionally pitch tents in summer. Ghiran had three acres of meadow land.\u00a0 Now the grass was waist high and ready to mow, and some people were already in their fields, beginning to harvest it.\u00a0 Rain seemed imminent so they had to get a move on or there would be no fodder for the animals in winter with hay so black and soggy that it couldn\u2019t even be used as bedding in the stables.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
In the evening Ghiran \u00a0took the scythes down from the rafter where he had hung them last year, and hammered their edges on an\u00a0 anvil for nearly an hour.\u00a0 He hit them lightly, carefully with half his strength.\u00a0 As he hammered the blades of the scythes in to shape, his neck veins stood out and he made short gasps. His green eyes had a strange glow in them and blinked to the rhythm of the hand beating the blades.\u00a0 When he had finished he called for Gore who was in the garden watering cabbages.\u00a0 The boy put down his bucket and strode towards his father.\u00a0 \u2018Tomorrow we\u2019ll mow the meadow. You find the whetstones and their cases now, before we forget.\u00a0 When you\u2019ve finished the cabbages, water the cucumbers, too\u2019, Sandu told his son.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Next morning they got up at 5 o\u2019clock and put food in a haversack, with an empty corked tin container for water, and a knife wrapped in a cloth, and set off.\u00a0 They walked side by side, the scythes on their shoulders, Sandu\u2019s on his right and Gore\u2019s on his left.\u00a0 It was chilly – if only the whole day could be been like that but by mid-day the sun became so strong they could faint from the heat.\u00a0 The crickets were chirruping from all directions, and they could hear a cart somewhere behind them.\u00a0 Gore looked at his right palm, full of deep lines and with fingers about as long and thick as the cucumbers he\u2019d watered the previous evening.<\/p>\n
\u2018What\u2019s the matter?\u00a0 What are you staring at?\u2019\u00a0 his father asked, and he gave a start, and quickly closed his fist.<\/p>\n
\u2018Nothing!\u2019 he said avoiding a molehill as they reached the fountain.\u00a0 They noticed a blue tent below them in the valley.\u00a0 Gore took the water container out of the haversack, filled it from the fountain, rammed the cork firmly in, put it in the haversack then checked again that it was securely sealed and heaved the knapsack over his shoulders and hurried to catch up with his father, keeping behind him until they reached the border of their meadow.\u00a0 They were settling in to the day\u2019s tasks.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Gore sprinkled some water in their cases so the whetstones would not dry out, and they tied them round their waists.<\/p>\n
\u2018We\u2019ll start a little further to the left.\u00a0 Let\u2019s go!\u2019\u00a0 Sandu beckoned..\u00a0 They walked a few steps up to the place he had indicated, and both spat on their palms as if they were about to start a fight, and began to mow the long grass with abrupt, wide movements.\u00a0 Fifty metres later, the backs of their shirts were soaked in sweat but they toiled on, step by step, like swordsmen lunging in the same direction at the same pace.\u00a0 The hill their meadow was on came to life slowly, as a cart or a man passed by and others appeared on the horizon.\u00a0 A couple of hours later, Sandu Ghiran was way ahead of his son, his eyes fixed on the tip of his scythe, rarely straying from the vision of the blade.\u00a0 Now and then he would spit on his palms, glance at his watch or run his whetstone over the blade.\u00a0 There was a lot of grass, there\u2019d be enough hay left over to sell.\u00a0 The plum trees weren\u2019t a big money spinner but the cherry plum trees were laden with fruit.\u00a0 Cherry plum brandy might not be plum brandy but it was still brandy.\u00a0 Mariana had written to Sandu telling him she was pregnant which was great news.\u00a0 It was three months since he had seen her.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
The grass was thick and they still had a long way to go.\u00a0 Sandu stopped and looked back.<\/p>\n
\u2018Come on, Gore, or it\u2019ll be night before we\u2019ve finished.\u00a0 Are you asleep or what?\u00a0 Get on with your work and stop looking for grasshoppers!\u2019\u00a0 The boy had taken his shirt off and sweat was running down his body.\u00a0 What could he do?\u00a0 He worked as hard as he could but his muscles were young, needed a rest more often than his father\u2019s, not to mention the temperature that was slowly rising.<\/p>\n
\u2018Gore!\u00a0 I\u2019m talking to you!\u2019\u00a0 his father yelled and the youth put on a spurt without saying a word.\u00a0 His skin was tanned by the sun and the sweat made it gleam.\u00a0 On Sundays he would meet the village boys at the pond and they would fish and swim until the evening.\u00a0 Many of them went there during the week too but their fathers weren\u2019t Sandu Ghiran.\u00a0 Some of them were still at school, others had younger brothers who could help with the chores at home, and some were poor because they had nothing to work for so spent their time at the pond.\u00a0 Gore was like a fish in the water.\u00a0 With his long arms, large hands and healthy lungs he slid through the water like a torpedo.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
The sweat sizzled on Gore\u2019s back.\u00a0 He stopped to sharpen the blade with the whetstone, and to catch his breath. His father stopped too.\u00a0 His shirt was dripping wet but he wouldn\u2019t take it off.<\/p>\n
\u2018Gore, bring that water here\u2019.\u00a0 The haversack with the food and water in it was hidden under a swathe of grass as there was no shade to protect it.\u00a0 Gore grabbed the haversack and took it to his father.\u00a0 Sandu wiped his face with a handkerchief that was already wet, put it back in his pocket, took the cork out of the tin container and drank.<\/p>\n
\u2018Eech, it\u2019s hot, God damn it!\u00a0 Go and get fresh water from the fountain \u2019cause I want to eat\u2019, he said.\u00a0 Gore took the tin container, threw away the remaining water, turned on his heels and made for the fountain, his eyes hurting from the heat.\u00a0 He had thought of going for more water earlier but it was better that his old man had suggested it.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Sandu edged his scythe; the whetstone was hot and the water in the case almost boiling.\u00a0 He moved his right arm, which held the whetstone, slowly, over the curved blade; he was somewhat exhausted himself but wanted to finish mowing the grass by evening.\u00a0 After all<\/p>\n
it took a while to dry so he wanted to spread it out before night fall so it could be gathered\u00a0 and stacked, and he had other things to do.\u00a0 There were fields of clover in two places, and he had to cut the cane that grew in the cornfield: there was the garden, as well and soon it would be time to pick the cherry plums.\u00a0 An enormous amount of work but the money wasn\u2019t bad.\u00a0 He must help Mariana now: she would need all sorts of things when the baby was born.\u00a0 And Gore hadn\u2019t had any new clothes in ages.\u00a0 What for, anyway?\u00a0 It\u2019s hot on St Mary\u2019s Day so he doesn\u2019t need them.\u00a0 Later, after the crops are harvested.\u00a0 What\u2019s he doing?\u00a0 Why isn\u2019t he back?<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Sandu stopped, his whetstone held high, and looked back to where his son had been.\u00a0 No sign of him!\u00a0 He laid his scythe on the grass and moved towards the haversack.\u00a0 He\u2019d put the food out ready for Gore\u2019s return.\u00a0 He should have been back. After all he said he was hungry.\u00a0 Sandu unfolded the napkin, and put tomatoes, onions, and a tin of pat\u00e9 on it, cut a few slices of salami with his knife and took a bite from a tomato.\u00a0 Where the heck was he?\u00a0\u00a0 He sat bolt upright and looked down the valley.\u00a0 Not a sign!\u00a0 The fountain wasn\u2019t far away, that little scoundrel!\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u2018Gore.\u00a0 Hey Gore!\u2019\u2019 he shouted.\u00a0 It was so hot that the air killed any echo.\u00a0 Sandu ate the tomato, wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, shook his head and muttered:<\/p>\n
\u2018Oh, Gore, Gore\u2019.\u00a0 Then he bent over, picked up the knife and put it in the haversack and threw an armful of grass over it.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Sandu hadn\u2019t taken his belt to Gore for a while, had thought he\u2019d grown up and understood he must do what he was told, especially when there was work to be done.\u00a0 This is no good, no good at all.\u00a0 He was standing there like a fool, in the middle of the exposed field with the sun beating down on his head, and Gore\u2026. Little scoundrel!\u00a0 Sandu untied the case with the whetstone in it from his waist, and put it under the grass with the haversack, then started down towards the fountain.\u00a0 He\u2019d lash him all the way back to the meadow.\u00a0 All this time wasted, and Sandu was hungry, and wanted a drink of water, too.\u00a0 He was panting for breath – after all he hadn\u2019t stopped for a second since he started mowing this morning, and Gore\u2026 Gore couldn\u2019t care less.\u00a0 Oh but I\u2019ll make him care!\u00a0 Sandu\u2019s rage increased as he strode down in to the valley, and every step seemed to tear his muscles, worn out with work and the sun, apart.\u00a0 He thought of calling to Gore but realized his mouth was so dry that his lips, trembling with rage, were stuck together.\u00a0 The horizon, misty and blurred because of the sun which was now directly overhead, appeared to have sunk a few metres, and was now close to the hill before him. He stopped, sobbing, swore and put his hand in his pocket for his handkerchief, wiped his forehead, crown and the back of his neck, and went on.\u00a0 His feet soldiered on, though swollen and oozing from blisters, and his right temple was throbbing as if an earthworm was trying to escape from beneath the dripping, burnt skin.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Sandu could see the fountain at the foot of the hill – Christ on the cross painted on a brick wall with clear water dribbling through a steel pipe at His feet.\u00a0 Sandu moved on, his eyes searching for Gore.\u00a0 Not a sign!\u00a0 His sunburnt face contorted, now purple with rage.\u00a0 He passed the fountain forgetting his tormenting thirst and went towards the meadow that led to the hill.\u00a0 About a hundred metres ahead was a blue tent.\u00a0 His fist clenched and his eyes dim with anger, Sandu came close to the tent.\u00a0 First he saw one of Gore\u2019s shoes thrown in the grass; then his shirt rolled up with a sleeve sticking out, inside out; then the water container.\u00a0 He stopped, his eyes opening wide all of a sudden as he heard a woman moaning in the tent and, a man gently groaning.\u00a0 Suddenly all the sunshine of the day shone from Sandu\u2019s face, and he grinned from ear to ear, whispering:<\/p>\n
\u2018Eech, lad!\u00a0 Making hay while the sun shines, and no mistake!\u2019<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by Robert Serban [Rom\u00e2nia] translated from Romanian by Oana-Manuela Mihai [MTTLC student] pentru versiunea rom\u00e2n\u0103 click aici For as long as he could remember Sandu Ghiran had worked like a slave, except he wasn\u2019t a slave because he worked for himself alone.\u00a0 He had toiled like a beast since he was a child until now […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[615,22],"tags":[1150,403,647,563,1116,312],"class_list":["post-5594","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-28","category-short-story","tag-egophobia-28","tag-mttlc","tag-oana-manuela-mihai","tag-robert-serban","tag-short-story","tag-translation"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-1se","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5594","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5594"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5594\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5702,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5594\/revisions\/5702"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5594"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5594"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5594"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}