"Sobolewski and the Romanians"

The AD is no longer 1686, but 2014. Unlike Sobieski, Sobolewski is no longer angry at Romanian ruler Dimitrie Cantemir, quite the contrary, he often delights in the musical art of the great European, Kantemiroglu, "Kitabu "Ilmi'l-Musîkî'l-Hurufat", played by Jordi Savall. However, he does have it out for someone: namely against "BURSA". And how could the famed ruler not be upset and distressed? Him, Sobolewski, the heir of Ian Sobieski, Poland's pride, the hero of Christianity, the savior of Vienna, to be forced for the second time to back down before these barbarian Romanian journalists, who strike at him from the shadows!

The game of differences continues! Sobieski had to fight to conquer the fortress of Neamţu, while Sobolewski got the Castle of the BSE for free, with all of its supplies and ammo! True, the wealth of the lords and noblemen of the Moldovan realm, stashed away for times of misery and war, wasn't stored within, like there were rumors going around it would be, but there was still something to nibble, at least for a good salary's worth and some bonuses, including shares in the Stock Exchange that the honorable Pole deigned to manage. And that little flaw was going to cause him much anguish. Just as everything was going fine and he was happily suckling on the teat of the Dîmboviţa region, he all of a sudden found himself under a deluge of boulders, stones, cannon balls, and questions asked by "Bursa".

- To the gates, lads!, said old Make. Barricade them and pile the boulders up on the walls. Take your rifles and man the ramparts. Do not let the Pole enter a Romanian city like they would walk over an empty field!

- But there are only nineteen of us and they are many, one of the peasants in the editorial office said.

- Shut up, whelp!, the old man said, cutting him off. You fear death? No big loss! There would be one less coward among us. The soldier, thus confronted, bowed his head in shame and took up his position on the walls.

The assault began. The cannons set on wooden plinths incessantly bombarded the army of Sobolewski, sometimes with open letters, with uncomfortable questions, sometimes with an article that left everyone speechless written by the tireless Make. Each shot fired by the hunters and peasants took down one of the enemies and especially their officers, which they predominantly set their arms upon. The Poles kept dying without much to show for it. On the first day, two of the soldiers fell. On the second and third day five more died and two got hurt. On the fourth day the very commander of the Polish artillery perished, but so did three of "Bursa". Their numbers dwindled every day. At night, gathered around the fire, they saw that they had run out of ammo and food.

- What is to be done, father? the young hunter/editor asked the old man, who, a wound in his leg, sat on a wooden bench.

-How many of us are gone?

-Ten.

-And we're out of gunpowder, and food?

-Yes.

-If so, then tomorrow morning, go out the gate brandishing a white flag; tell them that we will leave the BSE to Sobolewski, provided he lets them go free wherever they may want.

And so it was. The Poles accepted the terms.

When the gates of the castle of the BSE opened, Sobolewski couldn't believe what he saw.

- What is this?, he yelled, rushing to meet them on his horse. What are you supposed to be?

- We're lowly peasants working at "Bursa", the wounded old man answered, as his son was carrying him.

- What! And this is all of you?

- Ten of us fell under your mighty blows.

- You are the ones who dared stand against me and kill so many of my braves?, Sobolewski said. Oh, that shall not pass!, he said, irate with anger; an example must be made to deter others like you and that example shall be terrible and match your crime. You do not deserve to die by the sword; you will hang instead. Raise them up!!

Now, my power of anticipation can not go beyond any limits! I can't tell you if any of his noblemen will advise Sobolewski to leave the peasants live; if his mind will escape the clouds that have darkened it and he will let them do what they will; there is even less of a chance that I could say that each of the hunters of "Bursa" will be rewarded, for their bravery, with 50 zlotys each, from the purse of the great Sobolewski, like the historical fable says it happened to the people who defended the castle of Neamţu, against Polish king Ian Sobieski. Just like I can't tell you if Sobolewski will go on his way, like his illustrious precursor, Sobieski, or whether he will be allowed to stay a little longer to suckle at plentiful teat of the cash cow that is the BSE.

All I can tell you is the moral of the story: in Romania, just like in the time of Sobieski, of Negruzzi, of our grandparents and parents, and this will probably be true in the future as well, the institutions aren't created to bring wealth into our pockets, but quite the contrary, for those who control them. The laws are for us, not for them, and in their web of tricks only lawyers and judges get tangled, and never those who get to "rule" over the peasants and hunters. Amen!