The little girl in the first photo is Raveika. Her year of birth, 1896, is noted with some approximation in the history of her family, which fled from two different wars. Both flights were uninspired, her great-grandson says now – first to France, then to Germany. The woman in the other photo is Paraschiva. She never had children of her own. She adopted Raveika, who was in fact her sister’s daughter. That was how children found new homes back then. Within the family. But Raveika left home early. At 14, she was married off to a rich man in Constanța. When she decided to run away, Paraschiva used a shaving razor to rip off the upholstery on the sofas in the salon and used it to protect herself from the cold in train and bus stations throughout her long and winding search for refuge. The upholstery probably unravelled in its journey through history and war, but a piece of it was kept and passed on from one generation to the next. Now it occupies a place of honour in the Ungureanu household, next to family photos and other essentials that have survived over the last century in suitcases packed in a hurry and carried all over Europe.
Two of the objects that have never been left behind have been a white soup tureen and a mortar and pestle for crushing garlic, as heavy as a mallet. My great-grandmother died at the age of 100 years and 14 days precisely, and during her last year of life, when her mind was wandering through her own history, haunted by the demons of the last century, Paraschiva would walk around in circles in the garden, hugging the soup tureen, refusing to let go.
Testimony donated to the Museum of Abandonment by Ștefan Ungureanu, for the Abandonment Baggage campaign. This project is financed by CARE through the Sera Foundation, Care France, and FONPC.