On the first day of March, Romanians and Moldovans exchange a small red-and-white string token, Mărțișor, which they wear close to their hearts throughout the month as a symbol of renewal. In Moldova, the tradition carries a particularly cathartic meaning as it coincides with the commemoration of the victims of the 1992 war in Transnistria — a breakaway region in eastern Moldova — and Russia’s attack on their sovereignty.
The legend of Mărțișor is often linked to Baba Dochia, a figure in Romanian folklore whose story marks the arrival of spring. Rooted in agrarian and pastoral cycles, the tale has endured through oral tradition. Dochia was said to be an older, harsh woman who deeply disliked her daughter-in-law. Living in Romania’s Ceahlău Mountains, she sent the young woman into the bitter cold to wash black wool in the river until it turned white. Desperate and freezing, the girl wept as she scrubbed the wool in the icy water. Then Mărțișor — sometimes portrayed as a youthful embodiment of spring — gave her a red flower, which miraculously transformed the black wool into white. The red flower, symbolizing vitality against the lingering snow, suggests the fragile yet persistent return of life.
For Moldovans who had only recently gained independence from the Soviet Union, it must have felt as though spring had finally arrived. On March 2, 1992, Moldova’s flag was raised at the United Nations Headquarters in New York City, marking the global recognition of its sovereignty. It seemed like confirmation that a long winter had ended. Yet that very same day also marked the official outbreak of war between Moldovan government forces on the right bank of the Nistru River and separatist forces on the left.
Ever since the Soviet Union began to show significant cracks and Moldova sought to assert its independence, the left bank, with its capital in Tiraspol, has grown increasingly disillusioned. During the Soviet Union, the small Eastern strip was one of the industrial powerhouses, becoming home to thousands of non-Moldovans, primarily Russians and Ukrainians.
Still, Transnistria’s ethnic composition alone does not explain the conflict. From the 1940s to the final Soviet years, the two banks coexisted without open hostility. Soviet identity functioned largely as a civic one, blending ethnicities in the name of productivity. The eventual rupture was shaped less by grassroots animosity than by political maneuvering. As the 14th Russian Army (formerly Soviet) was stationed in Transnistria, many of its troops initially volunteered to join the separatist forces until its official involvement in late June 1992 under General Alexander Lebed. Similar to Russia’s war on Ukraine from 2014 onwards, Moscow invoked concerns for the ethnic Russians in Transnistria, as Moldova was asserting its full right to exist either as an independent state or as part of its historical sister, Romania.
At the end of July same year, the presidents of Moldova and Russia, Mircea Snegur and Boris Yeltsin respectively, signed a ceasefire. The provisions also stipulated the withdrawal of the Russian troops from Transnistria, something that was unprecedented. To this day, Russian troops remain on the left bank, mainly patrolling what is believed to be Eastern Europe’s largest ammunition depot in Cobasna village. Thus, Spring never fully arrived for Moldova, as Transnistria remains a frozen conflict.
The legend of Mărțișor does not end with the black wool turned white. When the young woman returned to Dochia with the white wool and the red flower, Dochia took it as a sign of spring. Tricked by the early spring sun, she ascended the mountains wearing nine or 12 coats, shedding them as the weather warmed, only to freeze when winter returned, turning her and her sheep into stone. Dochia’s coats stand for the deceitful first days of spring, when the weather shifts unpredictably. However, far from the bitter cold, the perils lie in confusing a momentary thaw for the end of the winter.
One need not turn to folklore to learn this lesson. My father was only 22 years old when spring knocked at his door with a draft notice rather than a red-and-white Mărțișor. While Moldovans mistook their newly gained independence for a permanent escape from Russia’s reach, history shows that powerful states have difficulty relinquishing their drive for dominance. And those who remember little of history risk being turned to stone.
~ Cristina Panaguta `26
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