Stella Moga
1978 STELLA PASSPORT PHOTO
As the general stepped out of his limousine I leapt up from my hiding place and ran toward him. His men tried to stop me, but I was so quick that they didn’t have time to react. Luckily, they didn’t pull their guns and simply shoot me or I’d have fallen on the spot.
The general saw me and raised his hands, stopping his men from any further actions.
“How can I help you, ma’am,” he said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I have a serious problem that only you can solve,” I said.
The man looked me up and down then smiled. “I see,” he said.
“Look,” I said, “Can I just follow you into your office? We can sit down and talk. I am no threat.”
I was shaking, and probably a pale as a ghost. My brother-in-law, still in his hiding place watching, was probably even more scared.
The man stared at me then looked at his men and back at me. “Follow me,” he said, then led me into the building.
We strode through a large, imposing corridor that looked like a palace. There was intricate marble and wood work throughout the building. It made me sick to my stomach to realize how these people were living like kings while the rest of us suffered. Neither of us spoke while we walked. When we finally reached the general’s office he invited me in, told his police to leave us alone and gestured for me to sit down in one of the large chairs.
“Now,” he said. “Tell me who you are, where you’re from and what you want from me.”
I was still scared but determined to plead my case. “My name is Stella Daisa Moga. I live in Cluj with my family. My father was born in America. We want passports so that we can leave.”
The man nodded.
“I could have been killed just trying to see you,” I said. “We want to leave to country. President Nixon and our president made a deal. I just want you to deliver on the promise.”
The general nodded again. This time he smiled.
“And?” he said. “What if I don’t?”
I’m not sure what came over me at that moment. Maybe it was all the risks I’d taken to get to this point. But I held my head up, looked him in the eye and heard myself say, “Well, if you don’t, then guess what. I have many connections, both here and the United States.
“I can communicate with all those people, including my relatives in America. I have a sister-in-law who is a doctor for the queen of the Netherlands. [She had emigrated earlier and was a cardiologist for the royal family there.] If you don’t let us leave I’ll get outside pressure on you to deliver the promise President Ceausescu made.”
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The air in the room was tense. How naïve I was. That man had the power to have me killed. And then the general started to chuckle.
“You are a courageous woman,” he finally said. “You are very smart, too. But I will have to think about this. It’s not a decision I will make right now.”
I shook my head and said, “No. You do not get to think about this. We were fired when we applied for passports. Every member of my family lost their jobs. We have no means of survival. Look, this is a serious matter. I am not leaving until you give us passports.”
The general slapped his hands together. “OK,” he said. “It’s obvious you will not leave unless I either kill you or give you a passport. Go into the other room and wait a minute while I make a phone call.”
I did as he asked but listened very closely to make sure he really picked up the phone.
He called General Ioana in Cluj and for several minutes the two of them spoke.
“If somebody deserves to leave and go to America, it is this woman,” I heard the general say. “Yes, I understand they were prominent members of the community and you had to fire them. Yes, I understand why it had to be done.”
And then I heard the words I waited five years to hear. “I’m going to authorize you to issue them passports.”
I was nearly crying a few minutes later when the general opened the door and invited me back into his office.
“We are giving you approval,” he said. “Go back to Cluj. The general there will issue you passports. But you will have to leave Romania immediately.”
I hugged the general and quickly left his office and the building.Add a captionAs the general stepped out of his limousine I leapt up from my hiding place and ran toward him. His men tried to stop me, but I was so quick that they didn’t have time to react. Luckily, they didn’t pull their guns and simply shoot me or I’d have fallen on the spot.
The general saw me and raised his hands, stopping his men from any further actions.
“How can I help you, ma’am,” he said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I have a serious problem that only you can solve,” I said.
The man looked me up and down then smiled. “I see,” he said.
“Look,” I said, “Can I just follow you into your office? We can sit down and talk. I am no threat.”
I was shaking, and probably a pale as a ghost. My brother-in-law, still in his hiding place watching, was probably even more scared.
The man stared at me then looked at his men and back at me. “Follow me,” he said, then led me into the building.
We strode through a large, imposing corridor that looked like a palace. There was intricate marble and wood work throughout the building. It made me sick to my stomach to realize how these people were living like kings while the rest of us suffered. Neither of us spoke while we walked. When we finally reached the general’s office he invited me in, told his police to leave us alone and gestured for me to sit down in one of the large chairs.
“Now,” he said. “Tell me who you are, where you’re from and what you want from me.”
I was still scared but determined to plead my case. “My name is Stella Daisa Moga. I live in Cluj with my family. My father was born in America. We want passports so that we can leave.”
The man nodded.
“I could have been killed just trying to see you,” I said. “We want to leave to country. President Nixon and our president made a deal. I just want you to deliver on the promise.”
The general nodded again. This time he smiled.
“And?” he said. “What if I don’t?”
I’m not sure what came over me at that moment. Maybe it was all the risks I’d taken to get to this point. But I held my head up, looked him in the eye and heard myself say, “Well, if you don’t, then guess what. I have many connections, both here and the United States.
“I can communicate with all those people, including my relatives in America. I have a sister-in-law who is a doctor for the queen of the Netherlands. [She had emigrated earlier and was a cardiologist for the royal family there.] If you don’t let us leave I’ll get outside pressure on you to deliver the promise President Ceausescu made.”
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The air in the room was tense. How naïve I was. That man had the power to have me killed. And then the general started to chuckle.
“You are a courageous woman,” he finally said. “You are very smart, too. But I will have to think about this. It’s not a decision I will make right now.”
I shook my head and said, “No. You do not get to think about this. We were fired when we applied for passports. Every member of my family lost their jobs. We have no means of survival. Look, this is a serious matter. I am not leaving until you give us passports.”
The general slapped his hands together. “OK,” he said. “It’s obvious you will not leave unless I either kill you or give you a passport. Go into the other room and wait a minute while I make a phone call.”
I did as he asked but listened very closely to make sure he really picked up the phone.
He called General Ioana in Cluj and for several minutes the two of them spoke.
“If somebody deserves to leave and go to America, it is this woman,” I heard the general say. “Yes, I understand they were prominent members of the community and you had to fire them. Yes, I understand why it had to be done.”
And then I heard the words I waited five years to hear. “I’m going to authorize you to issue them passports.”
I was nearly crying a few minutes later when the general opened the door and invited me back into his office.
“We are giving you approval,” he said. “Go back to Cluj. The general there will issue you passports. But you will have to leave Romania immediately.”
I hugged the general and quickly left his office and the building.
1978 STELLA PASSPORT PHOTO
As the general stepped out of his limousine I leapt up from my hiding place and ran toward him. His men tried to stop me, but I was so quick that they didn’t have time to react. Luckily, they didn’t pull their guns and simply shoot me or I’d have fallen on the spot.
The general saw me and raised his hands, stopping his men from any further actions.
“How can I help you, ma’am,” he said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I have a serious problem that only you can solve,” I said.
The man looked me up and down then smiled. “I see,” he said.
“Look,” I said, “Can I just follow you into your office? We can sit down and talk. I am no threat.”
I was shaking, and probably a pale as a ghost. My brother-in-law, still in his hiding place watching, was probably even more scared.
The man stared at me then looked at his men and back at me. “Follow me,” he said, then led me into the building.
We strode through a large, imposing corridor that looked like a palace. There was intricate marble and wood work throughout the building. It made me sick to my stomach to realize how these people were living like kings while the rest of us suffered. Neither of us spoke while we walked. When we finally reached the general’s office he invited me in, told his police to leave us alone and gestured for me to sit down in one of the large chairs.
“Now,” he said. “Tell me who you are, where you’re from and what you want from me.”
I was still scared but determined to plead my case. “My name is Stella Daisa Moga. I live in Cluj with my family. My father was born in America. We want passports so that we can leave.”
The man nodded.
“I could have been killed just trying to see you,” I said. “We want to leave to country. President Nixon and our president made a deal. I just want you to deliver on the promise.”
The general nodded again. This time he smiled.
“And?” he said. “What if I don’t?”
I’m not sure what came over me at that moment. Maybe it was all the risks I’d taken to get to this point. But I held my head up, looked him in the eye and heard myself say, “Well, if you don’t, then guess what. I have many connections, both here and the United States.
“I can communicate with all those people, including my relatives in America. I have a sister-in-law who is a doctor for the queen of the Netherlands. [She had emigrated earlier and was a cardiologist for the royal family there.] If you don’t let us leave I’ll get outside pressure on you to deliver the promise President Ceausescu made.”
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The air in the room was tense. How naïve I was. That man had the power to have me killed. And then the general started to chuckle.
“You are a courageous woman,” he finally said. “You are very smart, too. But I will have to think about this. It’s not a decision I will make right now.”
I shook my head and said, “No. You do not get to think about this. We were fired when we applied for passports. Every member of my family lost their jobs. We have no means of survival. Look, this is a serious matter. I am not leaving until you give us passports.”
The general slapped his hands together. “OK,” he said. “It’s obvious you will not leave unless I either kill you or give you a passport. Go into the other room and wait a minute while I make a phone call.”
I did as he asked but listened very closely to make sure he really picked up the phone.
He called General Ioana in Cluj and for several minutes the two of them spoke.
“If somebody deserves to leave and go to America, it is this woman,” I heard the general say. “Yes, I understand they were prominent members of the community and you had to fire them. Yes, I understand why it had to be done.”
And then I heard the words I waited five years to hear. “I’m going to authorize you to issue them passports.”
I was nearly crying a few minutes later when the general opened the door and invited me back into his office.
“We are giving you approval,” he said. “Go back to Cluj. The general there will issue you passports. But you will have to leave Romania immediately.”
I hugged the general and quickly left his office and the building.Add a captionAs the general stepped out of his limousine I leapt up from my hiding place and ran toward him. His men tried to stop me, but I was so quick that they didn’t have time to react. Luckily, they didn’t pull their guns and simply shoot me or I’d have fallen on the spot.
The general saw me and raised his hands, stopping his men from any further actions.
“How can I help you, ma’am,” he said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I have a serious problem that only you can solve,” I said.
The man looked me up and down then smiled. “I see,” he said.
“Look,” I said, “Can I just follow you into your office? We can sit down and talk. I am no threat.”
I was shaking, and probably a pale as a ghost. My brother-in-law, still in his hiding place watching, was probably even more scared.
The man stared at me then looked at his men and back at me. “Follow me,” he said, then led me into the building.
We strode through a large, imposing corridor that looked like a palace. There was intricate marble and wood work throughout the building. It made me sick to my stomach to realize how these people were living like kings while the rest of us suffered. Neither of us spoke while we walked. When we finally reached the general’s office he invited me in, told his police to leave us alone and gestured for me to sit down in one of the large chairs.
“Now,” he said. “Tell me who you are, where you’re from and what you want from me.”
I was still scared but determined to plead my case. “My name is Stella Daisa Moga. I live in Cluj with my family. My father was born in America. We want passports so that we can leave.”
The man nodded.
“I could have been killed just trying to see you,” I said. “We want to leave to country. President Nixon and our president made a deal. I just want you to deliver on the promise.”
The general nodded again. This time he smiled.
“And?” he said. “What if I don’t?”
I’m not sure what came over me at that moment. Maybe it was all the risks I’d taken to get to this point. But I held my head up, looked him in the eye and heard myself say, “Well, if you don’t, then guess what. I have many connections, both here and the United States.
“I can communicate with all those people, including my relatives in America. I have a sister-in-law who is a doctor for the queen of the Netherlands. [She had emigrated earlier and was a cardiologist for the royal family there.] If you don’t let us leave I’ll get outside pressure on you to deliver the promise President Ceausescu made.”
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The air in the room was tense. How naïve I was. That man had the power to have me killed. And then the general started to chuckle.
“You are a courageous woman,” he finally said. “You are very smart, too. But I will have to think about this. It’s not a decision I will make right now.”
I shook my head and said, “No. You do not get to think about this. We were fired when we applied for passports. Every member of my family lost their jobs. We have no means of survival. Look, this is a serious matter. I am not leaving until you give us passports.”
The general slapped his hands together. “OK,” he said. “It’s obvious you will not leave unless I either kill you or give you a passport. Go into the other room and wait a minute while I make a phone call.”
I did as he asked but listened very closely to make sure he really picked up the phone.
He called General Ioana in Cluj and for several minutes the two of them spoke.
“If somebody deserves to leave and go to America, it is this woman,” I heard the general say. “Yes, I understand they were prominent members of the community and you had to fire them. Yes, I understand why it had to be done.”
And then I heard the words I waited five years to hear. “I’m going to authorize you to issue them passports.”
I was nearly crying a few minutes later when the general opened the door and invited me back into his office.
“We are giving you approval,” he said. “Go back to Cluj. The general there will issue you passports. But you will have to leave Romania immediately.”
I hugged the general and quickly left his office and the building.