Magyar News, 1992. szeptember-1993. augusztus (3. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1993-02-01 / 6. szám

FIRST STEPS ON THE STRANGE SOIL OF THE HOMELAND

A letter and an article from American Hungarians after a visit to Hungary

TO OUR HUNGARIAN FAMILY IN

“THE OLD COUNTRY,”

As a child growing up in America I was the only person with Hungarian ancestry in my whole town (besides my father and brother), but it felt special. My friends were Norwegian, English, Irish, German, Dutch or Polish - but no one else was Hungarian.

At least 3 times every year my parents, my brother, and I would drive 3 hours to Bridgeport, Connecticut, to visit my grandparents, Lajos and Ilona Kardos, and our aunts, uncles and cousins. These were important trips to me that even today evoke memories of exotic soups and pastries, the babble of a strange melodious language, and my grandmother in her long skirts. In fact, my earliest memory is of my grandfather coaxing me with his musical Hungarian accent to accept his gift of a little carved wood dog. I was 4 years old. Grandpa, I now recall, spoke often about the weather, his work at G.E., politics, and of a far away place he fondly called “the old country.”

Over the years it never occurred to me that someday I might actually visit my Grandfather’s village, stand in the same church where he stood 99 years ago, and meet his nieces and nephews, my father’s cousins.

Ithappened! My father, Lajos, my Uncle Albert, my cousin, Susan, and I found ourselves flying over the Atlantic Ocean to “the old country.” The plane landed in Budapest. We picked up our bags and emerged into the waiting room hoping to spot Ildikó, our contact relative in Hungary.

Suddenly, to our astonishment and complete surprise, we were engulfed by 6 beautiful, handsome, smiling faces warmly kissing us on both cheeks, a new custom for us. Strong hands lifted our luggage from us and presented each of us with bouquets of flowers tied with bright ribbons. We were overwhelmed with die warmest welcome anyone could ever experience, a once in a lifetime surprise that we will never forget.

From that moment on, for 2 weeks we were carried on a wave of warmth and generosity by family after family of previously unknown relatives. We had hoped to meet maybe 8 to 10 relatives, and, in the end, guided by Ildikó Bényi and Adélba Csáji, we met 51!

Although we American members of the family live great distances apart, we are planning another large reunion to show the many pictures we took of you and to share what we learned of the Hungarian culture, landscape, historic cities of Kosice and Budapest, villages of Hemádvécse, Velka Ida, Vysny Lane and your way of life - all so different from America.

I’ll add a few words about the trip. Itwas very hard and very wonderful... hard because of the language barrier which makes it impossible to smooth over the inevitable cultural misunderstandings (such as how to handle the insistent and overwhelming offers of food and alcohol!). It was obvious that both sides of the language gap were continually stressed with the frustration of limited communication; “Thank you.” “You’re very welcome.” “This is very beautiful.” “Thank you very much, I do not care for more.” “Thank you this is enough.” “I am sorry. I do not understand.” etc.

The good will on all sides was touching. We were honored with not only food and drink, but immaculate houses (freshly painted), fresh cut flowers, and people dressed in their bestclothes. We Americans did our best with Uncle Al’s warmth and laughter carrying us through the awkward spots often. Susan and I marvelled at the “Bácsi’s” (my father’s and Uncle Al’s) stamina, enthusiasm and flexibility. Because they were the closest relatives, they were often the center of focus. It was exhausting. Besides meeting 51 new relatives, we were plunged into a whole new country, culture, geography, etc. - sensory overload, emotional overload!

There were 3 personal high points on the trip I would like to share (out of thousands of near high points).

The first was the surprise welcome at the airport. I can only sometimes think of it without getting teary eyed. I guess it’s those faces etched in my memory - all the high Hungarian emotions they reflected - excitement,eagerness, warmth, shyness, pride, generosity of spirit, kindness. No words are adequate. Uncle A1 said later, “I almost had a breakdown.” So did I!

The second treasured memory is of awakening just before dawn in the Bénji’s little village of Hemádvécse to the faint sound of a clanking bell. Was this a dream? a time machine? The bell got louderand then there were many bells and they were coming closer and closer. The windows were tightly

blocked with wooden shutters, but I knew the bells were close enough to touch. Then steadily they faded into the distance and all was quiet again in the village except for the occasional barking dog and crowing rooster. Next morning Susan and I pushed the shutters ajar and peeked out at dawn to see the source of the bells, a plodding herd of cattle coming down the main street followed by a little black dog and a jaunty cowherder carrying a stick. It was a timeless peasant ritual, wonderful to us...

For me the culmination of the pilgrimage to Hungary occurred in Felső Lánc, Grandpa’s village. We had been to the old family home, visited the cemetery, met many relatives. Suddenly we were on our way to Grandpa’s church. Darkness was falling. Erzsébet ran to get the pastor. We stepped inside the small building. There was the chandelier that Grandpa, Erszi and Julia Néni had sent money to buy. The pastor arrived. He was handsome, white haired with twinkling eyes and a melodious Hungarian voice. We understood only a few words, “fantasticus! fantasticus!” he said as he examined our family tree. “Yes,” he had received many letters from Grandpa over the years. The church building would celebrate its 100th year in 1993. Grandpa had attended from age 5 to 16 when he left for America but had sent back money until he died at age 92. Then the pastor walked to the small organ, sat down, and began to play an old Hungarian hymn. He began to sing, and then, from the side, the clear lovely voice of Erzébet joined him. It was dark outside. Grandpa’s chandelier hung above. We had come back to his church. The simple music flowed into our hears. The lump in my throat knew Grandpa was there. It was pure magic.

We returned to the United States glowingly impressed with the Hungarian people in general and with all of you individually. Anna Kardos Beers says that her father, Lajos Kardos, always told his children, “the Hungarian people are very industrious and hardworking.” Since our visit we are awed by your self-reliance, success and versatility . You all make us proud to be part of your family.

We thank every one of you for honoring us with your hospitality. Your delicious food, your beautiful homes. Your gifts and good humor made everything wonderful. You have changed our lives. Thank you.

Barbara Kardos Maat (continued on page 3)