Here I sit in my isolated closet with a computer, a telephone and an outside line. I can connect to the internet any time I want, chat on the phone, and type as much as I want. My ideals and morals, although a little bruised, are still in tact. I’ve even been told that this little office I have and all its trappings are a sign of respect because my organization is so happy with my two months of work. Then why do I feel like I am in a privileged prison? Possibly, it’s because no coworkers want to deal with me. I am the ugly American who made a fuss over nothing. Sure they smile or nod when I say hello, but the glances that are avoided and the whispers behind my back tell a much different story. Let me explain how I was sent to this isolated closet. About three weeks ago, money was stolen from my purse at work. It was about 450,000 lei, which I was going to use to pay my tutor later that evening. I was first told by my coworkers that it was my fault for not locking the office, which I shared with three other people, before leaving, followed by a barrage of questions regarding why I had so much bani in my purse, and ending with them pondering why I hadn’t asked one of them to tutor me. One woman named Dorana told me that her money had been stolen five weeks ago, but she didn’t report it. When I said I needed to file a police report, they all began to shudder. No one wanted to go with me to file the report, and as my counterpart is nonexistent . . . I was on my own. As I was leaving the office, Dorana suggested that I go home and look for the money, because maybe I left it at home by mistake. I have become friends with a young attorney in Sibiu, and she offered to help me write my complaint in Romanian. I wrote out the facts in my broken Romanian, and she helped to correct the mistakes and polished up the description with her usual legal flare. I thanked her, and went home feeling somewhat better. Off to work I went the next morning with my shiny complaint in hand. Dorana met me at the door and said we should go to the deputy director and report the theft. She went with me and we explained what happened. He immediately said he would have my complaint, along with a request from museum for a full investigation, couriered to the police station. He felt horrible and said the museum would take care of it. I went to my office thinking everything was fine. Over the next week, I prepared the reports for the Peace Corps according to the PCV Handbook, and waited for the police to come for further statements. Each day, Dorana would laugh and say that the police will do nothing. “The crime is too small and they have much bigger cases to deal with.” By this time, I assure you I was sick of hearing the tone of her voice. Three days ago, a police officer did come to my office. Dorana said she would assist with the translation, as she is the best English speaker at the museum. I explained what happened to him, but he took no notes. He said I needed to write a declaration. Dorana said she would write what I said. I again explained the facts of what happened and Dorana wrote it down. She then told me that she would prepare the declaration based on what I had said. As she wrote, she and the officer started talking and laughing. I figured they were just flirting with each other. Dorana stopped their giggling session to tell me that the police would not be able to solve the case because there is no evidence and it is too small. I said I understood that they wouldn’t be able to catch the thief. After a few minutes, she presented me with the declaration. She went over it, explaining what it said. I didn’t understand all of it, but it appeared correct and I signed it. She gave me a second copy, saying that the police needed two copies. It appeared the same, so I signed that too. The police took the two declarations and left. After the officer was gone, Dorana explained to me that the second declaration was actually different. The officer had asked her to get me to rescind my complaint so that he could close the case. In order to do so, the case had to be solved. Dorana wrote a few sentences in the second declaration that said I found the money at my house in another purse that looked similar to the one I had at work. When she told me this, I felt as if my brain had been put through the spin cycle. If I had had a two-by-four, let me just tell you her head would now be as flat as a pancake. I felt violated, betrayed, humiliated, and just plain seeing red mad. I started screaming at her, asking how she could have done this???? Why had she lied to me? I demanded that she go and retrieve that declaration. She started crying and said she would. She put on her coat and slithered out of the office. I took a breath trying to regain my composure…after all, there’s a film festival to put on. The show must go on right??? I went over to the film studio to continue editing the film blurbs for the catalogue. I received a call from Dorana saying that she had the false declaration and that the police would have to keep the case open now. I said that was fine and hung up the receiver. Later that evening, I went to my tutoring session and when I had to explain in Romanian what happened that day, I started ranting like a crazy two-year-old who doesn’t have the words to explain, but still wants to purge the feelings. God I hate not being able to speak the language! They called my friend the attorney and she advised me to file another complaint stating everything that had happened, including the coercion and the cover-up, and to go straight to the director of the museum and inform him of Dorana’s actions. The next morning, I went to meet the director and the deputy director of the museum to report the events of the day before. The director, who resembles Santa Clause, sans the red suit, started blessing himself and shaking his head as I teased out my tangled web of deceit. This whole thing is taking place in Romanian, or at least that’s what I think I am speaking. The director immediately calls for a translator, but her English was about as good as my Romanian. Dorana was called in, and because her English is quite good, she had to help translate. Everyone started yelling and gesticulating madly, except the original ranslator who had been brought in. She was watching with enjoyment as this soap opera played out. Please note this is all happening at 7:15 AM (my day is 7-3). Next, another woman was brought in, she had nothing to do with it, but she was yelled at too. At the end, the solution was to move me to another office and the museum would reimburse me for the money that was stolen. I explained that the Peace Corps would reimburse part of it, but the director insisted on reimbursing me that afternoon, which he did not. Who knows if he will, but I told Peace Corps he would and that they should put my claim on hold. At this point, I really don’t care because all I want to do is go home and pull a blanket over my head and tune the world out, but now I digress. Needless to say, there were lots of shouts and banging and shuffling of boxes and papers. A few people told me that they felt bad for me, but that I would understand the system soon enough. The exterior phone line was moved from my old office, and rerouted to my new one. I assume my old office now does not have an exterior line, but I don’t know for sure because that door is closed to me. So here I sit in my little corner of silence. I have no counterpart, and no one really speaks to me unless I initiate it. Oh, I take that back, one person did come in to say that her program needs a grant for an overhead projector, a video camera and player, and possibly some books. What angers me most about what happened, is that I am a lawyer. How could I have been so stupid as to sign a declaration that I had not prepared? I should have known better. But the truth is I didn’t. There is a lesson during the language training that instructs us to file police reports in Romanian. We do not have to do this. I advised Peace Corps of this and they are going to drop that section of the lesson. If any reports are filed, they may and should be filed in English, especially if it is something you have to sign. It is the police department’s job to find an interpreter. My experience thus far tells me that this country needs legal reform more than they need economic development or English. Maybe this silent closet is just what I need right now to come up with my next plan. I was placed at this museum to work, but the organization selection now seems like a joke. I am here helping an organization get publicity and money to do cultural events that 80% of the people who live in Sibiu cannot afford to go to. I am tasked with getting international attention for the museum and its events…but public relations is not why I came here. I’ll continue to work on the film festival, but after October 26th, I am going to reevaluate my purpose here. There is an organization in Sibiu that wants to start a legal clinic, and I think that’s what I will focus on. If I am going to write a grant, it’s not going to be for a film, a windmill, or to move a church from Cluj. I think I’ve blabbed sufficiently and bored you to tears. On that, I will shut my closet door and turn out the light. Say goodnight Gracey.