Fragile and elegant, I remember her voice, firm but sometimes shaky. She was sharp, very professional, and always speaking out against corruption and machismo. These two vices were destroying her little country. She was born a Soviet in a place that detested the Russians. At least that was what they used to say in those final days of the century. She wasn’t even thirty years old at that time.
I had recently arrived in Moldova as head of the local World Bank office. The Bank employees were educated in local Universities, professionally knowledgeable, showed intellectual curiosity, and seemed to enjoy their work. Maia stood out as an Economist but kept a soft demeanor. On some social occasions, amongst Bank employees, she would sing. She had a beautiful voice. She exerted effort and focus even in those informal gatherings. I realized then, that she was very competitive, perhaps calculating. But she did not show the usual aggression of competitors. Overtime, she proved to be effective.
One Saturday I was working in my office. It was a day off and there were not many employees around. Maia arrived crying. Her father had died a few days earlier. I think he had been a victim of cancer, like many others in the country. Cancer was very common, probably a result of the Chernobyl nuclear accident in neighboring Ukraine. I tried to calm her down, offered her water. Seated and quiet, she confessed to feeling like an orphan. Her father had been a central figure in her life, so it seemed. You must be strong, I urged. You have a family. I think her sister attended the University where I taught a course on Poverty and Distribution.
Maia recovered. Attractive but not beautiful, no boyfriends or partner were known to her. There were bachelors with a desire to settle down, who prowled without success. More than one professional stationed in Moldova, tried to start a serious relationship. They all failed in their attempts. She dressed in skirts that were sometimes short, wore high heels, walked with grace. She had the seeming appearance of a young woman open to marriage. But her eyes were set on something greater. Like many women, she had to tolerate insults and humiliations. Once she was a member of a Bank delegation traveling abroad. The group had to connect with a flight that was leaving Kiev, Ukraine for the final destination. In Kiev, the immigration agents decided to interrogate her. They asked her if she was going to work as a prostitute and, understandably, she burst into tears. Another colleague phoned me in Moldova to see if I could call the airport or the Bank’s office in Kiev. At the end, there was no need. The Ukrainian officials stopped their harassment and let Maia go. I don’t remember if we tried to register a complaint against the infamy.
Once I was absent from the country for a few days. During my absence, the President needed to speak with the Bank and could not wait for my return. Although she wasn’t in charge of the office, he asked to speak directly to Maia. The man, a cunning politician, ideologically opposed to Maia, seemed to anticipate her future. Career politicians can recognize one another. The President was the then leader of the Communist Party, elected by popular vote, already estranged from what had been Soviet communism.
After three years in Moldova, it was time for me to return to Washington. A large farewell party was thrown in my honor. Half the government attended. The Prime Minister spoke. I read my speech in a Romanian not devoid of errors. The next day, in my office, I was sorting out papers, answering messages, looking at pictures. It was spring and everything seemed sad. Maia came in teary-eyed. Sitting in front of me, looking at the floor, she complained. All the men that respect me, end up leaving. I hadn’t imagined I would develop such esteem. This praise added nostalgia to my last Saturday before departing Moldova.
Maia continued to deepen her knowledge. Watching “Betty la Fea” on TV, she learned Spanish, an addition to the several languages she already spoke. She got a Master’s degree from the Harvard School of Government. She could have stayed to work in the US if she’d wanted to. I’m sure she would’ve had plenty of offers. But her commitment was to Moldova. Appointed Minister of Education, her good performance catapulted her to stardom. She acquired popularity and prestige, and built up a name for herself. Her greatest strength is her uncompromising honesty, a rare commodity in a region where kleptomania is almost a sport. She endeavored for the appointment of Prime Minister and succeeded in 2019 for only a few months. That government fell after losing the necessary parliamentary support. In the process, Maia learned to act more politically flexible. She is pro-European Union, an understandable position in a marginalized region. But, at the same time, there is a danger that integration with Europe could be a path towards “defense” alliances, where small countries only collect misfortunes. She made a statement about Antonescu, the pro-Nazi leader of neighboring Romania during WWII, which was not well received. She was forced to clarify it. Being just anti-Russian can lead to a dangerous game with history. That is how regimes in Eastern Europe such as Hungary and Poland began. They are now downgrading the rest of the European Union. Maia could pay a very high cost if she doesn’t understand this reality of the geopolitical life.
Ultimately, Maia competed for the biggest prize: the Presidency. She won the elections convincingly and took office on the eve of this pandemic Christmas, in a Europe where women begin their triumphant return to power.
Maia Sandu, President of Moldova, is just approaching fifty. Her youthful face does not reveal it.
