Indeed, ten days after the inspector's visit, one afternoon, Popp and I were taken to the penitentiary head office. They shackled us. Another chain linked my right wrist to Popp's left. We got into a jeep with two Securitate sergeants and a lieutenant major.

“Don't try to run, we’ll shoot you on the spot,” said the lieutenant.

“You must be joking, lieutenant,” I said. “But let us hope you won't shoot us right away.” The fact that we were in chains was reason not to worry, because under those conditions we could not be accused of trying to escape.

We arrived in Sibiu after seven o’clock, but instead of being put into cells, we were left in the care of a guard in the holding area duty room. We asked for dinner, to which we were entitled.

“But you’re not registered for a meal,” said the lieutenant. “You’ll just have to put up with it,” he added. “I can go two or three days without eating anything.”

“When we were at our normal weight we could too. But now, as you see, we’ve lost almost half our weight, we’re just bones and skin.”

“I wasn't the one who put you in jail,” the lieutenant replied.

“That's besides the point, we have the right to dinner.”

“Fine,” he told the guard, “see if there's anything left in the kitchen.”

The guard returned with a single tin dish full of potatoes.

“That's quite a lot you brought,” the lieutenant said.

“There's a lot left over, comrade lieutenant.”

“Well, yes, but the left overs go to the pigs,” he replied.

“There plenty left for them too, comrade lieutenant.”

Each detention or penitentiary had a few pigs, fed on stuff taken from the inmates. The pigs were not slaughtered for the inmates, though; they were for the supervision and management personnel. Aiud, for instance, had twenty-five to thirty pigs, and the head screw came in during every meal to make sure enough was set aside for them. Often, the portion for the pigs was larger than what was distributed among the inmates.