Vremea când în casele românilor de la sate oalele şi străchinile de lut ars însemnau nu doar simple obiecte decorative, ci pur şi simplu accesorii funcţionale de bucătărie, s-a dus pentru totdeauna. Astăzi locul acestora e suplinit de porţelanuri şi faianţe, în cel mai nobil caz, sau pentru cei mai mulţi, cu mai puţini bani şi educaţie, de exponate din material sintetic.
Acum un secol şi jumătate, pe lângă alte ateliere meşteşugăreşti, la Darabani funcţionau şi câteva care produceau, pentru comerţ, o întreagă varietate de vase necesare gospodăriilor ţărăneşti. Argila provenea din diverse surse, una situându-se pe un teren aflat la capătul actualei străzi a Tineretului. Documentele vorbesc adesea despre aceste ateliere.
În „Procesul locuitorilor din Darabani în faţa Curţii cu Juri din Dorohoi” (ed. Goebl, Botoşani, 1878), se face referire la patru fabricanţi de oale, cu toţii de religie creştin-ortodoxă, niciunul evreu. De altfel, o remarcabilă specialistă în etnografie, d-na prof. dr. Angela Paveliuc – Olaru, într-o lucrare despre zona etnografică a judeţului Botoşani, menţionează localitatea Darabani între centrele reprezentative ale olăritului din a doua jumătate a veacului XIX. Cum comerţul cu astfel de produse continua să fie înfloritor, se înmulţeau şi fabricanţii de oale. Un atelier nou se înfiinţează în anul 1907 având ca angajaţi pe Iţcu Braer, Iosub Vilinovschi, B. Manole, Iorgu Solinschi, I. Straticiuc, I. Ungureanu şi Stern Rechinstreich, cu front de lucru zilnic pentru patru lucrători.
Olăritul dărăbănean rezista încă prin mici producători, până dincolo de anul 1950. Se pare că ultimul olar din Darabani a fost Neculai Hornaru, care moştenise meseria din familie. Rapiditatea schimbărilor tehnologice şi o nouă mentalitate populară au îngropat definitiv olăritul în uitare.
Articol semnat de Victor Teişanu în Mesagerul de Darabani.
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O căsătorie domnească la Darabani
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“FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region. “Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis.
After I serve daddy’s left one, I was about to move to the right foot. While He stopped me, stood up, and walked towards the couch, he said “Crawling right after me.” I followed daddy. My nose was where daddy’s ass was. I was staring at that crotch while I was crawling, and I didn’t realize daddy stopped one of a sudden in front of the bathroom. My nose is slightly right into that dreaming ass crack. “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”
Daddy was furious as I could hear his deep breath. He sat down on the bench by the door. I was looking down afraid he was going to kick my ass. He lifted my head from my chin using the tip of his loafer where I can smell that smelly sheer socks he has been worn all day. Just when our eyes met, a big stinky manly wad landed on my face. Then I felt a big rough hand rubbing the spit all over my face. I heard the daddy say, “ next time remember what I told you exactly, I don’t want this to happen again, you hear me? I paused and said, “ yeeee…”. Before I finished the sentence, another spit and a big slap on me. “ when I told you something you must say yes. There is no room for you to argue or think, understood?” He said in a deep and firm tone. “ yes sir”. Without missing a beep I said it. “good boy, your night is just about to start.” “This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock.
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Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat. “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”
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Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.” “Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis.
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“Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice. I was surprised He wasn’t angry. He said,” boy you wait here, I am going to the bathroom.” He closed the door. He must sit on the toilet with pants down because I heard him losing the belt but didn’t hear him peeing. After a while, he called my name,” get in here ass sniffing slut.” I opened the door and crawled to the side of daddy. Daddy was still sitting on the toilet. . Just when I was confused why he sat that and did nothing. He stood up and pulled his pants up. I did take a peep of daddy’s huge uncut Middle Eastern dick. Half hard like 7inches already. While he was doing that, he grabbed my hair pushed right into the toilet, and closed the lid. “ smell my ass from there boy when it is still fresh.” He paused and continued, “ Don’t move.”
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He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.”
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“Then, what is this, father.” He says as he wrestles his cock in a fierce grip and squeezes it like he is fighting against a serpent unleashed from its coil. I used my teeth to strip off daddy’s black sheer socks. I placed them in my mouth and washed them with my saliva. I swallowed every single sweat and stink from these socks. It takes so well. I rolled them into a ball and stuck them into my jockstrap where my small dick and balls were.
His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass. Garrett nods to his father.
“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.
“Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure. “Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure.
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He does not say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more. “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.
Daddy was furious as I could hear his deep breath. He sat down on the bench by the door. I was looking down afraid he was going to kick my ass. He lifted my head from my chin using the tip of his loafer where I can smell that smelly sheer socks he has been worn all day. Just when our eyes met, a big stinky manly wad landed on my face. Then I felt a big rough hand rubbing the spit all over my face. I heard the daddy say, “ next time remember what I told you exactly, I don’t want this to happen again, you hear me? I paused and said, “ yeeee…”. Before I finished the sentence, another spit and a big slap on me. “ when I told you something you must say yes. There is no room for you to argue or think, understood?” He said in a deep and firm tone. “ yes sir”. Without missing a beep I said it. “good boy, your night is just about to start.” “Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.
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“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.” “Once you plant that cock of yours in some squirmy hole and empty those warm balls of yours into a moist wet hole. Then you are on your way to becoming a man, and only then will you, come-of-age. But it is only a step onto the winding pathway towards manhood. It is my job to teach you what it means to be a man.” His father stands as he finishes his sentence. Loosening his belt and pulling his shirt out from the tucked confines of his pants.
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