Chapter 17: The family of Babette Manciu

On the plane, Zarina had a lot of questions about the last meeting in Cyprus, but I asked her not to discuss such sensitive topics here. Strangers could overhear at any time. So, she snuggled up to me. At some point I fell asleep. Babette woke me up when we landed after a quiet two-hour flight. It was my first time in Bucharest.

While we waited at passport control, I tried to decide whether it made sense to go to Moldova as I had originally planned. After the failure in Cyprus, I had no desire to travel there for two small companies without much capital, especially as I did not have enough documents to legitimise a claim.

Therefore, I decided to go to the Chamber of Commerce in Bucharest. The city took some getting used to and made an unkempt impression. On the one hand, there were main streets that were far too wide and huge concrete buildings, and on the other, dirty side streets with run-down houses. More than forty years of pseudo-communism had left a terrible legacy.

But the people were friendly. Even the taxi driver was very nice, but the reception at the Chamber of Commerce was extremely warm. They were very welcoming to foreign investors. My request to find out about Rus’ two Romanian companies and gather information led to immediate contact. A young employee did his best to help us, passed on all the interim information to Zarina and was a gentleman through and through. ‘My Zarah’ knew how to take advantage of this, asking interesting questions herself and playing my well-trained assistant better and better. I was happy to take him out for a late lunch. I wanted Zarina to have another opportunity to enjoy her charisma with the young man and use it to our advantage. And we had time, because I had forgotten to set the clock back. In Romania it was just after one o’clock.

When we left the Chamber of Commerce, we had received free documentation on both companies, without any identification. More important to me was the detailed information on Romanian commercial law and inheritance law for companies. Dimitri was very helpful. Would he have done the same for me without Zarina? Probably not.

At first, I wanted to take the train to Constanta, which was only about two hundred kilometres away, but the next train didn’t leave until 5.30 p.m. I wanted to be at the children’s home before bedtime. I had never driven a Mercedes A-Class before, but at 100 euros a day to rent was very cheap. We drove well under the two hours and thirty minutes the sat nav said we would take. We reached the children’s home before 6 in the evening.

There was one woman on duty from the orphanage management who spoke only Romanian and Russian. She called a colleague who spoke good English, but she was too far away to come over. She wanted to help the two Manciu boys if I would pick her up and bring her back. While I drove to the deputy director, Cornelia Popescu, unthinkable without a sat-nav, Zarina looked for Georghe and Adam at the home. When we returned, my companion was sitting at a table in the so-called dining room with two boys who, at first glance, looked scrawny and emaciated and were babbling. Smiling, I saw Zarina explaining something to the boys with hands and gestures.

Cornelia showed me around the home. It was very run down, to say the least, but clean and tidy. My request to take the boys with me for the weekend led to excited phone calls to the home manager. I went to the table and greeted the boys, who were very inhibited and shy. A taller girl helped us translate, but she only understood some of our questions. So, I took my mobile phone, I had bought a Romanian prepaid card next to the car rental office and called home. Actually, I just wanted to ask Ramona to pick up Babette immediately, but she was on the line herself. “Hello Babette. Everything is fine?”

“Yes, mostly. I’ll tell you about the problems when you get back.”

“How is our Cara?”

“She’s very brave. I will send her your regards.”

“Let’s get to the point. Georghe and Adam are sitting next to me. Great, right?”

Babette cried with joy.

“You can talk to them right away, Beth. There are three things you must tell them.

- Tomorrow morning, we want to visit your sister and then your aunt.

- We want to take your brothers to the hotel for two days.

- If all goes well, we’ll take them to the beach on Sunday morning.

Ready, Babette? Let’s go!”

We could hear everything. The mobile phone was on the table at full volume. Our Romanian spoke to her brothers in a very calm and friendly way. Although she was unprepared, she showed me once again that she was a leader, almost a professional.

The boys listened with rapt attention. Every now and then, there would be a nod or a ‘da’, meaning ‘yes’. Then Cornelia spoke to Beth. Suddenly, there was the ‘beep’ and the ten minutes of phone time was up. The boys looked at me uncertainly. What had been decided? Mrs Popescu explained that the boys could be picked up here tomorrow morning, spend the night in our hotel and be back at the home by 2 p.m. on Sunday.

“Mrs Popescu, I would like to invite you to dinner before I take you home. Can the boys come?”

In her presence, Georghe and Adam were allowed to come to dinner. The boys put on their best clothes, well; there was no point in making a show of it, but what the heck?

Cornelia asked us not to buy valuable things or nice clothes for the boys. In the orphanage everything has ‘nimble feet’. “A pair of jeans and sturdy shoes for the coming winter would be nice, but please no branded jeans. At the moment, Georghe and Adam are the heroes of the orphanage, all because of the article about their sister Babette. It was the talk of Constanta for days, maybe even the whole of Romania. But how the children behave towards each other is simply unpredictable”.

As we were leaving, we passed a pizzeria. An idea came to me. I ordered one of the many cheap pizzas for each of the forty children in the home and for the woman on duty, reduced the price a little for purely sporting reasons and had the pizzas delivered within the next hour. Cornelia informed the lady at the home. We continued to our pre-ordered Hotel Chérica, a not very sophisticated hotel in the middle of the city.

The evening went very well. Little by little, the boys became more open and talked about their mother’s death and the problems with their sick aunt. Cornelia translated what the boys said. It was a shocking fate. Adam barely remembered his sister Babette. Georghe, on the other hand, liked her very much because she was the only one in the family who had time for him and who helped him a lot during his first years at school. He was shocked when she disappeared one day.

A grumpy old man was standing at the reception and demanded an extra room for Zarina. Cornelia wanted to help, but things got worse. The boss came out of an office and strictly insisted on the rules. But when Mrs Popescu said that we came from Peru just to meet the brothers of the heroine Babette, total chaos broke out. Soon, the waiters, three people from the kitchen, and also some guests surrounded us, all of whom wanted to know much more about Babette and her life. On the big TV in the foyer, Zarina, as the ‘mistress of the remote control’, showed an excerpt from the film about our life from 2019 from the USB stick I had brought with me and, as a second excerpt, the appearance of little Babette at the first big celebration in 2016, Olivia’s birthday.

Actually, I had prepared the stick to show the boys pictures of their sister the next day, but they sat on the floor in front of the TV and cheered for their sister. The people in the hotel particularly liked the clip of Sula and Babette with their machine guns and Babette’s first test shot with the bazooka on a rock in the valley.

Recent photos of Babette, with a big belly and a warm smile, completed the demonstration. We stopped because I wanted to take the children home, but I wanted to draw attention to the pitiful situation there. Babette would donate $1,000 a month to the orphans. The hotel manager placed a collection box at the reception desk. Many of the guests didn’t have to be asked twice and several notes were put in. Cornelia Popescu was delighted and discussed the weekly collection with the hotel.

The dining room, which doubles as the TV room, erupted in cheers when the brothers returned. The pizzas were a hit. “Tomorrow night there will be hamburgers for everyone,” I called out to the children. An older girl translated. More cheering. I gave Christine 200 euros, but she preferred to give the money to Mrs Popescu. It would be safer with her.

Georghe showed us their room with three bunk beds. Six children in a room that was far too small, it was depressing for Zarina and me. When we said goodbye, the boys hugged me for the first time. They were still very excited, their eyes shining with joy; the red in their cheeks had replaced their initial pallor. We had made two damaged children’s souls happy. Simply wonderful!

The next two days are quickly told. From Saturday morning onwards, we spent some wonderful hours together. Adam became Zarina’s favourite; Georghe stuck closer to me and tried to learn more English words and phrases. I had bought us a Romanian English dictionary. This made communication a little easier, but it was still difficult.

Babette’s sister, Alina, was married and had a four-year-old daughter, Romana. Her husband, Alexander, was drunk before lunch, earned very little, and Alina had only occasional odd jobs. The flat consisted of her mother’s old furniture and other second-hand things. I found this out from Babette, who had talked to her sister for a few minutes. Babette suggested getting old Mrs Manescu to translate. She was a retired English teacher and lived in the house next door. Then the phone call came to an end; the time was up.

Mrs Manescu was very old, probably in her 90s, but her English was almost perfect. She was happy to help us with the conversation and recommended a quiet café nearby where we could have lunch. Zarina had to look after Alina’s daughter. Little Romana wanted to be the centre of attention. Adam and Romana sat on the terrace in the sun and ate ice cream with Zarina.

After a long discussion, we agreed on the following: Alina was willing to take care of her aunt when she was discharged from hospital. In return, I promised her a monthly payment of eight hundred euros from my private account in Belgium. That was a lot of money by Romanian standards. It would also enable the family to gradually pay off their rent debts.

She also promised to pick up the boys from their home every Sunday, weather permitting, to take them to the cinema or do something else. Having solved these two problems, Alina was completely uninhibited and cursed at her husband when he asked me for vodka. Somehow the Babette I knew came through, strict, principled, but nice to Georghe and later to Adam, too; a really good soul rested in the woman who had previously been so discouraged.

Smiling, I told her that she was now as great as Babette. I could even see her with a Kalashnikov. She showered me with kisses and lay in my arms for almost a minute, trembling with emotion, sobbing briefly and then, still on my chest, whispering words of gratitude to Mrs Manescu for her help and support. Yes, with money well spent and kind words you can do a lot. In fact, I was immensely rich now, able to help those in need with relatively little money, and I felt so good about it. You couldn’t give yourself more pleasure.

Then I remembered we hadn’t even talked about the boys’ Christmas visit. The school holidays ran from 21 December 2019 to 12 January 2020. Alina assured me that she would help the boys apply for their children’s passports and that she would take her brothers by train to Bucharest and by taxi to the airport on the day of their departure. I would email the electronic tickets to the home.

Now our interpreter was beside herself. “I heard Babette and Kalashnikov earlier. Are you from Peru? Are you part of the heroine Babette who blew up an armoured car and was seriously injured?”

“Yes, Babette is Alina’s sister, she’s a real ray of sunshine. She would have loved to come with me, but she’s having her baby in mid-November, so the trip would have been too strenuous.”

Mrs Manescu trembled with excitement. “Young man, please tell me what has happened. I hardly slept for two days; I was so upset about the article. You know, I had a similar experience after the war, I had to fight and kill.”

We stuck our stick in the bar’s TV and showed pictures of Babette, just like yesterday in the hotel. Soon, the terrace was empty, all the guests were standing behind our chairs. I must have been possessed by the devil, because at the end I showed a few clips from Ramona’s film of the battle on 22 June. I wanted to leave out the helicopter attack, but people wanted to see it. When the helicopter blew up, everyone cheered. From a distance you could see me bleeding on the roof, then the shooting with the armoured car.

“Watch out, here comes Babette’s action!” The armoured car was lifted and exploded. Cheers, applause, wild screams. Unbelievable! I was hugged and kissed; the way people reacted was just fantastic. Here in Romania everyone was very emotional, at least on this issue.

Mrs Manescu was crying and shaking. Zarina and Alina took her in their arms. “Everything is fine,” I said, “Now we are here and Babette supports the orphanage with her salary every month. The Romanian girl is not yet sixteen, but she runs the camp in the mountains, takes care of the defence and coordinates the construction work”.

Some understood me and translated for the others. There were a thousand questions, but I did not want to waste time. “I’m sorry, I have said and shown far too much already. We have to go.”

We took Mrs Manescu home. She had recovered and was caressing Zarina and me but was not ready to accept any money. When I kissed Alina left right left, as Sarah had taught me, her husband apologised to me. I did not understand him, of course, but his look told me shame for drinking and gratitude for solving their problems.

The 90-square-metre apartment we booked for the next day, with direct sea views, consisted of two bedrooms with double beds, a living room with a sofa bed, a nice bathroom, and a small kitchen for a whopping 160 euros a night. Soon, I was sitting on the beach smoking my first cigarette after buying the boys two pairs of swimming trunks. Zarina splashed around in the water with them for a while, and then showed them the freestyle swimming she had just learnt. In no time the three of them were swimming to the limit. The boys’ dog paddling improved to a good crawl in no time.

Later, Zarina wanted to play volleyball again. She begged me for money to buy a ball, and the four of us practised a bit. Soon, other players joined us, including some teenagers, and we split into two teams. You couldn’t really call it volleyball, but my young companion took every opportunity to practise English words with the boys.

“You’re putting a lot of effort into Babette’s brothers, Zarina.”

“You probably think I don’t know what you’re up to. The boys are coming to us for Christmas and never want to leave. You’ve probably already thought of an excuse.”

I pulled her to me and kissed her forehead. “You’re just too smart for this world. You’re right, I just need to work on the excuse,” I laughed at her, snorting.

Then her lips met mine. “I like you very much, or rather I love you, although I know that almost all of us love you, each in her own way. But right now, I’m your only one, and that’s great.”

After a small snack on the promenade, we bought the boys jeans and T-shirts. They were allowed to keep them on. A few meters away was a bar, ‘Club 13’. A concert by the hard rock band ‘The Kryptonite Sparks’ was due to take place there from 10 p.m., but at the moment it was only bar service. At the entrance, Zarina asked in her wonderful way if the boys could accompany us into the club, just for an hour. Nobody asked Zarina her age, even though the concert and the club were P18, i.e. ‘adults only’, but we just wanted to have a drink and listen to music for an hour. Of course we were turned away.

But our guys were into hard rock and wanted to go to this club that was so legendary among young people. So, I joined in. My question, “Do you know Babette Manciu from Peru?” was answered in the affirmative.

“We are in Constanta for a day to visit Babette’s brothers. That are them, that’s Georghe, that’s Adam. They live in the orphanage. Could you please make an exception for them until 10 p.m.? I guarantee we’ll leave on time.”

He didn’t believe a word and spoke to the boys in English, finally in their mother tongue. “OK, until 21:45, not a minute more, otherwise I’ll get stressed. And who is this beauty?” he pointed to Zarina.

“This is Zarina, one of Babette Manciu’s best friends. She lives with her and the other girls in a high valley in the Andes.”

Again, he looked at me as if confused. “You’re crazy, I don’t believe it.”

When Zarina handed him her passport with the Peru exit stamp dated 24 September, he stared at her, then his facial muscles relaxed into a smile and he led us to a platform in the corner where there was a table for at least 12 people. He said a few words to the six men at the table and disappeared.

Two minutes later you couldn’t understand a word. The heavy metal music was turned up to full blast, and more and more young people gathered in front of the stage, dancing like crazy. Zarina grabbed Georghe and got him going in the middle of the hall with her hot moves that she often showed at the Palazzo. Adam went along with it like it was nothing and rocked almost professionally. They used to do that a lot at home, he told me later.

Suddenly, the music stopped. Babette’s photo from the newspaper came up on the screen, first quiet applause, then shouts that turned into chants. The boss asked for silence. Later, I was told that the club had three guests of honour, the brothers of the heroine Babette Manciu, and her best friend and fellow fighter Zarina from China. Surprise, quiet applause, that doesn’t really fit into this club, I thought, but no, soon Babette was being celebrated again.

The three of them were brought on stage, and the boys introduced themselves in a very insecure way. Zarina, on the other hand, was great. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? Can you at least speak English?”

Cheers of agreement.

“This isn’t planned, but my friend Babette would love to be here in front of you. But she’s having a baby in six weeks. Can I say hello to her for you?”

During the long applause, the boss whispered to Zarah. I stepped forward and called to Zarina, “Please, be careful. No more talk about children, just be nice without giving anything away. Please, Zarah, please.”

The club leader then said in English that there was little time and the children would have to leave soon, but that they could ask three questions. I didn’t understand the questions, but Zarina replied into the microphone: “No, I didn’t fight. After the first attack, I was so shocked that I almost shot my group during training. I only learned to shoot with a pistol. Babette from Romania and Sula from Kenya are our best fighters. They are better with their Kalashnikov than some soldiers, and Babette has always been the best with the bazooka.”