“Here I can save human lives. Nobody helps them”
In 1948 I was in prison in Aiud. Thanks to favourable circumstances, I was to be released. I had the opportunity to get some of my comrades out of prison by signing some blank papers. Among those I was able to save was Doctor Uță. He was one of the people I respected and admired because he was always ready to sacrifice himself for the good of others. Because of the regime in the prison, where there were thousands of people, many of the prisoners had gone mad, and others were on the verge of going mad. They were all separated into wards with common rooms and a more lenient regime.
Dr. Uță was the one who took care of them, the one who gave them food, which they received from the prison like any other prisoner. As soon as someone in the prison fell ill, either a prisoner or a guard, Dr. Uță was there. If even a member of the guard’s family fell ill, the only hope was Dr. Uță. He was the one who gave everything for the sick, whether they were good or bad, thieves or honest, administration employees or victims. Everything he did was out of love for people.
In the bag in which he carried the few medicines he had, which only he knew how to obtain through his knowledge, through his insistence, there was always a piece of bread for the sick, for friends or enemies, for people, broken, most of the time, from his small prison ration. During the famine that raged in Aiud at that time, Dr. Uță’s bag would always contain a piece of bread or food for the sick, as if by magic. During my stay in Aiud, which lasted more than a year, I never saw Dr. Uță eat anything but from the cauldron, and he didn’t take all the food, even though it was little. When the prison food was a little more substantial, Uță would get his portion and run off with it to some sick person. I don’t know if and when he ate a little polenta.
I’ve often wondered where he got such stamina, such strength. He was never idle.
My release was coming. I told him that I could certainly get him out of prison, have him retried and set free. Dr Uță was adamantly opposed. His argument was that he couldn’t leave the sick, especially those in the wards, to the mad. Seeing that I was determined to get him out of prison, he came to me a few days before my release and threatened to expose me if I did. “I can save lives here. Nobody helps them. I’m glad it’s in my power to do this.” He did not want to leave them, especially those who had gone mad in prison, and there were many of them, increasing every day. “I will do everything humanly possible, everything in my power, to bring these people back to normal life. I will follow them everywhere”. These are his words. And so he did. […]
His whole life was a renunciation for his neighbour. His renunciations gave life to many. Around 1946-1947, peasants from the villages near the prison came and begged the warden to let the doctor come to their village. They had heard through the guards about the miracles of Doctor Uță, who had such a miraculous power in his words that the sick gained courage and life from the life of this doctor, who spoke to them with so much spirit about health, about the will, about God and His Church, that the man, the sick man, felt better and felt God near him. The presence of Doctor Uță beside the sick man poured into his soul, drop by drop, health and faith in God.
It was Dr. Uță who did not let me take him out of prison, just to be able to take care of those whom the heartless and godless state kept in prison, to be able to take care of the people whom the evil regime had made sick and mad… because they wanted to build a country with better, more just people, to build a country that would shine among other countries. Now Dr Uță is where a godless world sent those who wanted to bring heaven down to earth.
God rest you, Doctor. My prayers will always be with you. Wait for me, doctor of bodies and souls.
I will come, make me worthy to be at your side, brother…
(Dumitru Lungu – Fight and Dungeons, Ramida Publishing House, Bucharest, 1998, pp. 176-178)