Under a Red Sky by Haya Leah Molnar Page A

tells us, Romanians have survived invasions by many tyrants, including the Mongols, the Tatars, and the Huns—all savage tribes that pillaged the land, raped our women, and oppressed our people. She goes on to explain that even though our conquerors brought with them a lot of suffering, they also enriched our culture with many contributions.
    â€œDo any of you know where black Kalamata olives, stuffed grape leaves, and feta cheese come from?”
    Claudia, a girl with a huge white ribbon in her hair, raises her hand.
    â€œYes?” Comrade Popescu motions to Claudia to speak.
    â€œAll of these products come from our Cooperative Farmers’ Market,” Claudia replies.
    The look on Comrade Popescu’s face is of utter disgust as she corrects Claudia. “Yes, of course. However, I didn’t ask you how we purchase these products in modern times. I asked you where they originated from, culturally. You must listen carefully before you answer a question. Does anyone know from which country we inherited these foods?” We are silent. “Very well,” she continues. “Kalamata olives, feta cheese, and stuffed grape leaves all came from our Greek ancestors. They also brought with them baklava, our sweet pastry. But more important, they brought with them the way we reason, the way we think; philosophy, mathematics, and our love of theater all come from the Greeks. Anyone care to guess
which food that we consider the most basic Romanian fare was brought to us by our Roman conquerors?”
    There are no raised hands.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you all? Didn’t your parents teach you to take any chances? I said you may guess, so take a guess.” She is still met with silence. “Very well, then,” Comrade Popescu continues. “Our mmligcame from the Romans. In Italy they call it polenta. However, they do not serve it as we do, with feta cheese. They fry it or bake it. You see, we combined two culinary traditions, the Greek feta cheese and the Roman polenta, to make our very own Romanian mmligcu brânz—polenta with cheese. The point I’m trying to make you understand is that our conquerors enriched us in many ways. We became more inventive, more versatile, because of them. Perhaps in spite of them,” she adds.
    When she speaks about our ancestors, Comrade Popescu’s blue eyes turn greenish. Her face relaxes and becomes almost kind, and her voice loses its edge. It is easy to see how much she loves many of the places that she is describing, how proud she is of the Romanian people.
    â€œTo the northwest is Transylvania, where my father comes from,” she says, pointing with her ruler to that area of the map. “This part of the country was once under the Austro-Hungarian empire, which is why most of the population there speaks Hungarian and German in addition to Romanian.” Her voice trails off as if she’s lost her train of thought, and then she asks, “Do any of you know what we received from the Soviet Union, our Communist ally?”
    My hand goes up as if it has a mind of its own.

    â€œYes?” Comrade Popescu motions to me.
    â€œThe color red?”
    Everyone in the class starts to snicker, but Comrade Popescu isn’t smiling. Instead she ignores my answer entirely and continues, “I’d like you all to think deeply about what makes each of you Romanian. Tonight’s homework assignment is to answer the following question: What constitutes a true Romanian and how is our country influenced by our relationship to the USSR? I’m well aware that we have not discussed the Soviet Union yet, but I’d like to get your thoughts just the same. You are to write no more or less than one page. Any questions?” Comrade Popescu scans our blank faces, and since no hands are raised, she tells us to go home, think about this some more, and come back with our thoughts on the subject.
    Â 
    I’M SO EXCITED about this