Amintirea Olgai Boico-Trébitsch: Il n’y a plus d’après…

Ar fi implinit azi 56 de ani. Ma refer la vara mea primara, fiica sorei mamei mele, Cristina Luca-Boico, doctorita Olga Boico-Trébitsch.  A fost un om extraordinar, ne-am format impreuna, am citit carti care ne-au marcat tineretea, am ras de atatea ori  impreuna, am fost adeseori tristi impreuna, a fost ca o sora pentru mine, o prietena de mare incredere. O chema Olga, probabil, in memoria Olgai Bancic, luptatoarea din maquis, executata (decapitata) de nazisti ca membra a grupului condus de Missak Manouchian.  Ori poate dupa personajul Olguta din “La Medeleni”, o carte favorita a mamei sale  In timpul ocupatiei germane, Cristina fusese sefa serviciului de informatii al organizatiei “Franc-Tireurs et Partisans-Main d’Ouevre Imigrée” (FTP-MOI).  In anii 90, istoricul Stéphane Courtois, editorul de mai tarziu al “Cartii negre a comunismului”,  a scris un volum despre acel grup, cu titlul “Le sang des étrangers”.  Acum cateva luni am vazut aici, la Washington, filmul lui Robert Guédiguian “L’Armée du crime”.  La Olga am ascultat pentru prima data discul lui Leo Ferré cu cantecul “L’Affiche Rouge” pe versurile lui Aragon.  Cristina se lamurise de mult despre mizeria morala a comunismului, nu mai nutrea niciun fel de iluzii.  Ea mi-a daruit “Le Livre noir”, “Les Aveux des archives” a lui Karel Bartosek si “Le passé d’une illusion” de Furet.  Am o scrisoare a ei in care reia, cu infinita tristete, cuvintele atat de adevarate: “Si la jeunesse savait, si la vieillese pouvait”.  A citit “Arheologia terorii” si mi-a spus: “Tot ce scrii acolo este adevarat. A fost insa si mai cumplit”. Voi publica poate corespondenta mea cu cea care a fost Cristina Luca. Imi amintesc lungile noastre discutii, la care Olga participa cu pasiune, despre memoriile lui Pierre Daix, despre Artur London, despre cartea lui Dominique Desanti, “Les Staliniens”. Imi amintesc un pranz la Cristina si Olga cu Ghita si Tania Bratescu cand am vorbit à batons rompus despre Ana si Luximin, despre Dej si Ceausescu, despre Aurore Thorez si Eugen Fried, despre Margarete Buber-Neumann si Kravcenko, despre Gulag si Holocaust (am aflat zilele trecute ca Tania Pauker-Bratescu a incetat din viata).

Am facut franceza amandoi, Olga si cu mine,, in particular, cu mama lui Alain Paruit.  Engleza, la fel, cu profesorul Gavril Gabor.  Am petrecut vacante impreuna, inclusiv ultima, la Bran, inaintea plecarii definitive din 1981. La Paris ne-am plimbat prin parcuri, pe marile bulevarde, am mers la filme cu ea si cu Michel.  Chatelet, Chez Zimmer, Le Petit Zinc, Le Deux Magots, Gibert Jeune, excursiile la Chartres, la Versailles, pe malul Loirei.  Intr-adevar, il n’y a plus d’après…

La putin timp dupa ce s-a stins din viata Olga, in 2001, a urmat moartea mamei ei in 2002, apoi, in 2003, a sotului ei, istoricul Michel Trébitsch (a mai apucat sa scrie, in “Le Monde”, necrologul mamei Olgai cu titlul “Cristina Luca: Une grande résistante”).  Biograful lui Henri Lefebvre, cercetator la Institut d’Histoire du Temps Présent, Michel a fost autorul unor lucrari esentiale pe tema istoriei comparative a intelectualilor in secolul al XX-lea.  Olga si Michel m-au vizitat la Philadelphia in 1987, am mers apoi impreuna la New York, am petrecut o dupa-amiaza de neuitat cu Agnes Heller si cu Ferenc Feher (recent ajunsi acolo, ca profesori la New School for Social Research, dupa anii traiti in Australia unde gasisera sprijin academic dupa eliminarea lor din viata stiintifica de catre regimul Kadar).  Michel era interesat de destinul new-yorkez al lui Norbert Guterman, un marxolog faimos, bun prieten cu Lefebvre. In plus, Agnes lucra atunci la cartea ei despre cotidianitate, deci era extrem de interesata de tema Lefebvre.

I-am vizitat la Paris, mai intai singur, apoi, dupa 1999, impreuna cu Mary, an de an. In 1989, acel annus mirabilis, am stat la ei o luna, am participat la colocviul organizat de Michel la Sorbona despre revolta si societate, legat de bicentenarul Revolutiei Franceze.  Textul meu, tradus de Michel, era embrionul cartii pe care incepusem sa o gandesc, “Reinventing Politics”. Tot Michel a tradus un capitol din cartea mea “The Crisis of Marxist Ideology in Eastern Europe: The Poverty of Utopia” aparuta la editura Routledge din Londra in 1988.  Era un text polemic in care contrastam, pornind de la ideile lui Havel (“The Anatomy of a Reticence”), sensul pacifismului independent, al anti-militarismului, in Est si in Vest.  A aparut in revista “L’Homme et la société” cu un raspuns din partea politologului neo-marxist Michael Lowy, specialist in tanarul Lukacs, in Ernst Bloch si in “Che” Guevara.

Am langa mine fotografii din 1986, cina la ei acasa, pe Rue de Saintonge, in Marais, impreuna cu Gaspar Miklos Tamas si Anna Eorsi.  Locuiau la doi pasi de Mihnea Berindei. In decembrie 1989, Olga a fost printre primii medici francezi care au plecat la Bucuresti cu ajutoare pentru raniti. In 2000, Olga si Michel au mers la Bucuresti la o conferinta organizata de IRIR in colaborare cu IHTP. S-au imprietenit cu Anca Oroveanu si cu Andrei Pippidi.  Dupa moartea Olgai, am fost la Paris impreuna cu Mary si Adam. Am mers la un fel de petrecere de adio la Michel, impreuna cu vechea noastra prietena Mariana Ioan.  Erau acolo colegii de la IHTP, inclusiv Henri Rousso.  Era si fratele Olgai, Andrei, impreuna cu sotia sa Annick.  Michel stia ca sfarsitul era iminent.  Privea in jur cu o seninatate totala.  Se pregatea de revederea cu Olga.  Copiii, Maxime si Emma, au ramas in grija sorei lui Michel, Claire. I-am revazut in 2008 la Paris. Olga, Cristina si Michel isi dorm somnul de veci la cimitirul Père Lachaise.  Public mai jos textul pe care l-am scris in ianuarie 2002 in memoria Olgai.

My Cousin, Olga Boico-Trébitsch

It is truly very painful to use the past tense when I write about my cousin and dear friend Olga.  Others will write about her as a doctor, classmate, wonderful mother, wife, daughter, sister. I prefer to simply write down some recollections about Olga, the passionate intellectual.  We both left Romania in 1981.  During the last years of our Romanian experience, Olga and I were very close: we used to go together to visit the art historian Radu Bogdan where we met some of the brightest people among Romania’s cultural elite: Alexandru Paleologu, Andrei Plesu, Gabriel Liiceanu.  In the winter of 1980, we both attended a dinner at Radu Bogdan’s place in honor of Victor Ieronim Stoichita, who was visiting Romania (at that time Victor was teaching, I think, in Switzerland).  Olga was a most lively partner in our uninhibited conversations.  This point needs to be emphasized: those were stifling times in Romania, but we continued to think and speak normally. What was striking about Olga was the scope of her cultural and political interests.  She was a voracious reader and had an extraordinary capacity for discussing ideas.  During those years, we used to get together every Saturday night at her and her mother’s place, on Strada Muzeul Zambaccian 14, watching some Western (American or British TV series), commenting on the latest aberration decreed by Ceausescu, talking about the most recent events in the country’s cultural life.  Who else was there? Sometimes, Florica and Tudor Jebeleanu, sometimes Tita Chiper Ivasiuc and Mariana Ioan, very often Olga’s friend, Irina Dona.

Later, in Paris, in 1986 and 1987, Olga accompanied me on various visits to well-known intellectual figures: the celebrated literary critics Monica Lovinescu and Virgil Ierunca, the dissident writer Paul Goma, and the Romanian-born French political philosopher Pierre Hassner.  In 1987, Olga and Michel visited me in the United States. I still remember her brilliant remarks during a visit we made in New York to Agnes Heller and Ferenc Feher, the exiled Hungarian philosophers (Ferenc died several years ago, Agnes teaches at the New School University in New York and at the University of Budapest in Hungary).  I also remember the dinner that Olga and Michel organized in Paris for the Hungarian dissident philosopher G. M. Tamas. In recent years, I saw her less frequently, but we continued to talk and comment on the various tribulations of post-communist European politics.  This is the way I will always remember Olga: open-minded, courageously profound in her analyses, always interested in the human dimension of the struggle for freedom. Honesty and frankness were among her most cherished values.  She practised them with ultimate dignity and generosity.  For this reason, I dedicated to her memory the foreword I wrote for the Romanian translation of Raymond Aron’s book Les marxismes imaginaires.  Now, that I have completed my book on Romanian communism, I cannot imagine that she will not be there to give me her comments and ask me, with her unforgettable voice: “Are they going to translate it into Romanian?”  Or, maybe I am wrong, and she is with us, and this is what she wants to ask me.

Washington, DC

January 4, 2002

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