WHISPERS IN THE SHADOWS: AN AMERICAN’S ADVENTURE TEACHING IN ROMANIA BEHIND THE IRON CURTAIN

By Sandra Wenner Yeaman

Reviewed by Pennell Paugh

August 11, 2024 (El Cajon) -- Sandra Yeaman, a resident of El Cajon, CA, visited Iaşi, Romania in 1978. She was given a two-bedroom apartment with all the usual appliances found in U.S. apartments. She later found out her lifestyle was quite lush compared to local residents. However, on the downside she lived far from the school where she would be teaching English, and it wasn’t close to shopping.

The school at which she was a Fullbright English ­­­lecturer lacked a campus. In fact, the school only had one building. The instructors shared one room as an office and took turns acting as receptionists for the English department. When paid, the British English instructor and Yeaman were the first to be paid. Funds were passed around with the remaining funds. Yeaman and the British instructor made quite a bit more than the others.

The author only taught three days of the week. As a result, she regularly traveled to the Capitol, Bucharest, for weekend visits. Here’s an excerpt:

The fight from Iaşi to Bucharest took about an hour. The train trip

was closer to eight hours. While planes offered only one “class,” trains

offered three classes. First class had two bench seats, facing one another,

one side of which the porter converted into sleeping berths, like bunk

beds, to accommodate two passengers. Second class had two bench seats

facing one another, both sides of which the porter converted into

sleeping berths, accommodating four passengers. And third class had

two bench seats, accommodating six passengers. Sleeping while sitting

up served as the option in third class.

When I traveled by train, I usually went second class. Four passengers 25

could comfortably sit until the train staff made up the beds, and I could

usually avoid conversation if I brought something to read—my

Romanian was not conversational quality. I could ask directions and

figure out what someone said so long as the person used a few gestures

to accompany the words.

One time, I bought a first-class ticket. It was a good thing, too,

because on that trip something delayed the train by about four hours. I

was used to getting up from the sleeping berth just as the sun was rising

and before the train rolled into Bucharest’s Gara de Nord. But on that

occasion, the sun was already up when the porter came through to

convert the beds back to seats, and I could tell from the view out the

window that miles remained between the train and Bucharest. I am sure

the other passenger and I passed some pleasantries, but no conversation.

We both got ready to get off the train, and we just waited in silence for

it to arrive.

On that return trip, I traveled second class. I ended up in the same

compartment as my first-class companion from the Friday before. That

is when the big difference between first and the other classes became

clear. She was the same person. I was the same person. But the trip

differed because instead of leaving me in my private world in the first-

class compartment, she wanted to talk. She asked me question after

question, none of them suspicious or curious—but a genuine

conversation. Where traveling first class gave me privacy, second class

demanded involvement from me. The conversation ended once we all

crawled into our berths for the rest of the trip.

I don’t think I ever set out to test this further, but I ended up once in

a third-class compartment. It must have resulted from no seats being

available in first or second class. That experience demanded even more

conversation and involvement. I think I may have been able to doze a

bit, but I recall my companions testing my Romanian skills seriously on

that trip. I concluded that third class meant the ticket included

entertainment—conversation with the other passengers.

Romania was part of the Warsaw Pact under Soviet Union control. Citizens were expected to do patriotic work, including annual harvesting. And, everyone, no matter what station in life, did duties like street cleaning and other chores.

Yeaman tells us details that I found fascinating covering lifestyle, diet, relationships. For example, she learned she should carry a shopping bag whenever she went out. Stores did not purchase multiples of stock items. If she saw something she wanted, she bought it immediately. In the latter part of the book, she compares what Romania was like twenty years later. The comparisons were striking.

The school library didn’t use a decimal system like our libraries swear by. Each librarian made up their own system so if a student were to ask for a book, it was hit or miss if the book might be found. A point in case, behind the reception area books were arranged by color and size.

For someone who has done very little travel, I loved being exposed to the intimate details of residents in Romania during the late 70s and 90s.

At 21, Yeaman lived in the San Francisco Bay area for six years. She traveled to Tehran, Iran, where she taught English as a Second Language for employees of National Iranian Radio and Television. When that program shut down, she moved to Romania for a one-year Fulbright grant to teach English at the University. Yeaman spent most of her adult life living and working in other countries as a diplomat with the US Department of State. Since retirement, she and her husband, Alex Yeaman, have lived in San Diego’s El Cajon community, where they spend time with their three grandchildren and as volunteers with several civic and cultural organizations. Whispers in the Shadows is her debut novel.