The idyllic scenery of the Apuseni Mountains, in Western Romania, with scattered villages surrounded by forests, wooden houses, haystacks, cows and horses grazing on flower-filled meadows, is about to disappear. The stories of craftsman Lucian, uncle Dinu and aunt Delia show us that the “Țara Moţilor” region loses its identity and people. Once they leave, the views and the rich nature for which it is so beloved disappear. The laws seem to intentionally chase away the forest-dependent local communities that live here, cutting off their access to the resources they depend on. If we want to continue enjoying the landscapes we grew up with, we must learn to respect the legitimate interests of these communities, spread throughout the country. How? Their rights must be clearly introduced in the new Forestry Code, which is to be discussed in the Parliament.
We first saw Lucian up on the hill, helping build a house, like an unskilled worker. Nobody seems to care he is a well-known traditional craftsman, who has been carving wood for over three decades. Ever since villagers were denied access to the wood from the forests surrounding them, the “Țara Moților” region, located in the heart of the Apuseni Mountains, began to lose its identity at a fast pace. The locals, who have been working with wood for generations, now stand in front of their houses and look powerlessly at the large logging firms cutting down forests and taking their production directly to the huge, automated sawmills that attract almost all the wood from Romania.
“Now the forest is closed, we look at it like strangers. They killed my job, I can no longer select my wood. How can I continue to create art if I don't have forests? What kind of “Moți” are we?" says Lucian sadly. He arranges his glasses on his nose and drives us to his house. Wooden tubs, sculptures, wooden house, flowers at the windows, the horse grazing in the garden on the hill. Lots of memories from the past.
Before the law was changed, Lucian used to go directly into the forest to select his wood. „The ranger cannot know what I need. In order to make a tub, the tree must be cut at a certain time of the year, the wood must be of good quality and not twisted,” he explains. The wood has to be then be transported carefully, so that it does not scratch or get dirty. „If the wood rots or if companies drag it through the mud, how can I create a quality product out of it?”
The good timber goes to Sebeș
A traditional craftsman like Lucian would need 15-20 cubic meters of good quality timber per year to survive. That's about 5 full carts. He would buy it before being cut in the forest, directly from the Forestry District. He would then bring it home by horse, turn it into art or household objects (tubs, buckets) and then sell them. But his workshop is now covered in dust.
That's because traditional wood craftsmen no longer have the right to buy the timber directly in the forest and large wood processing companies don’t bother to make “en-detail” sales. The law states that only authorized logging companies have the right to buy and cut the wood put up for auction by the Forestry District. They drag it out of the forest and, theoretically, transport it to a warehouse, where individuals can come and buy it. In reality, trucks with good quality wood go directly to the processing factories in Sebeş and warehouses in the villages near the mountains receive only the low-quality logs, which are sold at a high price. So high that, even if they were of good quality, it would be impossible for a local to buy the wood, process it and then sell it at a profit.
The result is that wood craftsmen and small entrepreneurs, who one could meet all over the place in Țara Moţilor a few decades ago, have almost disappeared. Those who still try to continue the tradition and keep the area’s cultural identity alive cannot legally obtain the raw material they need. The locals have ended up, ironically, buying wood from the city as OSB or ready-made paneling.
No wonder that villagers feel left behind. They no longer have access to wood, their lifestyle is dying out. They don't see their future here anymore. A study made by the Apuseni Natural Park shows that, in the last decade, about 300 people left from each community of around 1,500 inhabitants. And the phenomenon speeds up.
"They give us the crumbs, as if we were dogs"
The clinking of bells can be heard from far away. The cart with its two strong horses climbs the dirt road that connects Gârda de Sus and Hodobana, a small village located high on the mountain. Nea Dinu, who’s a woodworker, like his parents and grandparents before, takes his hat off and scratches his head thoughtfully. „I'm surrounded by forest and I can't work in it. I used to take my horses into the woods and work with them, now I only use them carry corn and groceries uphill. I would need about 20 cubic meters of timber per year to continue working in wood,” he says.
One cannot find a job in the area. Large companies bring their own workers so young locals, such as Nea Dinu's two children, who are wood-workers themselves, left to work in the city or in the UK. But, many times, their incomes are not good there either. „If they let us work, they would come back. Otherwise, in 15 years, our village will be erased from the map. Now we manage as best as we can. Sometimes we go and clean the logging sites. They give us the crumbs, as if we were dogs,” says Dinu.
The winding road goes up and ends in aunt Delia’ courtyard. She has lived on top of the hill for the last 20 years. Now she is alone. Her husband was a carpenter and her boy used to make furniture. But, after he was no longer allowed to take his wood from the forest, he left to Arad. Holding the hands on her hips and the head covered with a scarf, she speaks loudly and has a warm smile that makes you think that maybe it's not that hard to live here.
Her neighbor, Christmas, walks by holding two horses by rein and greets her. He has the same smile, the same determination in your eyes, the same attitude that makes you feel welcome. He also worked in the forest and his parents used to make traditional wooden tubs and planks. Now he picks fir branches which he sells to those who make wreaths and raises some animals. In summer, he picks blueberries, blackberries, herbs and mushrooms, which he sells. But, sometimes, their price is so low that it is not worth the effort. This year, for example, the price for a kilo of blueberries was only 5 lei. And how much one has walk to pick a kilo of blueberries.
"We all suffer because the low price of blueberries. As for the wood, instead of buying it next to my house, I have to bring it all the way from the valley, on this bad road. Not only do I pay more for it, but I also pay for its transport. Firewood, for example, is more expensive than in Cluj," says Crăciun.
Nature conservation can only be done by respecting the local communities’ rights
The dirt road leads to another small mountain village, called the Stone House. A wooden kiosk, selling hot pies, greets us on the right side. Here is the workshop of Nicodim, who has been a traditional wood-worker for generations. His house is over the hill, following a steep path. Since he can no longer find good-quality wood to work with, he uses pies to attract the few tourists who dare to climb the bad road up to his shop, with pies.
“I wanted to buy good-quality wood from the logging companies, but they didn't want to give it to me, they said was all sent to the wood processing factories in Sebes. This situation forces me to quit my profession. I am not even allowed to cut the trees from my own forest because it is in a protected area. I don't need social assistance because I own land, but I want to be compensated because I can't use my forest. That's the right thing to do,” says Nicodim.
The problem of protected areas, which many times are randomly set from the Bucharest office, without a socio-economic impact assessment, make local communities angry. People found out, overnight, that their rights were restricted for the overall good of nature and society. But only they paid the price. „The management of protected areas is made through a brutal compromise. That’s not normal. The property right is guaranteed by the Constitution. There is no such thing as nature conservation without a compensation payment”, explains Alin Mos, director of the Apuseni Natural Park.
Therefore, locals are on their own. Why wonder then if they are breaking the law, as they are even pushed to do so? Many times, authorities maintain social peace by pretending not to see what is happening. Romania has rules on paper, which can't be applied in real life. Because those who make the law have probably never been to those communities and don't know their unwritten rules.
Traditions of so many "wooden civilization" generations end here
What is the follow-up of these restrictions? Locals are leaving. The traditions of so many „wooden civilization” generations end here. People are not allowed to work in the forest anymore. They no longer have access to their own forests either. They have no perspective, they no longer see their future in these places. The rules of life have changed and the new rules have been imposed on them by force from the outside.
Without them, the traditional landscape that is so typical for the Apuseni Mountains will change. Because these are the people who live in the far-away villages and maintain those meadows full of flowers that we like. They carved their history in wood. They mow the grass and make the haystacks. They raise the cattle and the horses we take photos of.
If they leave, the mosaic natural landscape will be lost and, with it, the biodiversity that has been specific to these places for hundreds of years will change. There are already 3,000 hectares of abandoned land in the Apuseni Mountains, in different stages of afforestation, which risk being used as simple biomass in the future. Who will have the patience to wait for the forest to grow for 5 generations in order to obtain good-quality wood? For whom? Who else can give life to the wood? Once “moții” leave, habitats such as mountain meadows, where rare species like some types of orchids grow, will disappear. Because humans are the ones who have shaped, over time, the landscape as we know it and they are the ones who should maintain it.
Without the local communities, Țara Moţilor not only loses its landscapes, but its identity as well. They will be replaced by townsmen who will build, for a while, holiday homes, but who will not perform any of the traditional activities of the place. Alin Moș senses the danger and that is why he wants Țara Moţilor to become a UNESCO World Heritage Site. He also wants to create an “Ecomuseum” of Țara Moţilor in the area, to support local communities that preserve the essence of the place, to give a boost to the "wood culture", to encourage traditional activities and to attract tourists.
Forest-dependent communities must be clearly defined in the Forestry Code
Romania wants, officially, to expand its strictly protected areas. But it won’t be able to make long-term conservation without the support of the local communities. If these people manage to preserve their cultural identity, we increase the chances for nature conservation. But, to continue to exist, these communities must have priority access to the forest resources they depend on. This right should be guaranteed and they should have priority in front of the big timber factories. Normality must be restored.
These people don’t need social assistance. They just want to be allowed to do what they have traditionally done for centuries and to receive compensations for the rights they were denied in the name of nature conservation.
Forest-dependent communities must be clearly defined in the Forestry Code. This law should also set the administrative framework to identify them. And, above all, they must be guaranteed access to the resources they depend on.
This way, they will have a future. Young people would return home if they saw an advantage in being part of a local community that is located in a protected area. And Romania could preserve its traditions, cultural identity and make an integrated nature conservation, which is the only one that can last.