Magyar News, 1995. szeptember-1996. augusztus (6. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1995-12-01 / 4. szám
STATINS MAS YAH IN THE AMERISAN SOUTHWEST I'm a Hungarian-American who just happened to fall in love with the American Southwest better than two decades ago. About four years ago my dream came true, and I came to live in northern Arizona and to work among the Navajo Indians on the largest reservation in the U.S.-nearly the size of today's Republic of Hungary. Of couse, I am not the only Magyar living in Arizona. My lifelong friend, Attila Sarfi, has been down in Phoenix for six years. He and I grew up in the Yorkville section of Manhattan. We attendsed St. Stephen of Hungary School there, and we graduated 8th grade together in 1963. Istenem! We can't be that old, can we? There are other Hungarians all over Arizona and New Mexico—many others, I've heard tell. In fact, there's a rumor that half of Cleveland is moving down here next year. I just haven't met any of them yet. That's one of my goals for the near future. But I'm almost certain of one more Hungarian- American snowbird who'll be migrating this way from Fairfield quite soon: my daughter Alana plans to start as a freshman at Arizona State University in Tempe next fall. As much as I enjoy life in the Southwests and as far removed as this region is from Central Europe both geographically and culturally, I have clung on to my Hungarian heritage. All of my Native American coworkers and acquaintances know that I was born in Hungary and am bilingual. Many of them have visited my homes (I've lived in several over the past three and a half years), and they've admired all the "old world" pictures, handicrafts, and memorabilia I keep on display. They know that my parents live in Budapest, that I correspond regularly with them in our "mother tongue," and that I've visited them in Hungary twice since I came to live and work here. A few of my Navajo friends will even tell you that, just as they refer to themselves as "Dineh" in their language, we call ourselves "Magyar" in our own. In fact, they seem to have less trouble with the "gy" sound than the average Anglo-American. Just about a year- ago I received some pretty reliable feedback that most of the Navajo Nation was pnvy to my Magyar background. I received a call from a Tribal Council representative in Tuba City, way over on the western end of the Big Rez. He informed me that a Hungarian women's basketball team was scheduled to play against the Northern Arizona University women's team in Tuba City the following Friday evening. He said he'd heard from someone else who works for the Indian Health Service that I speak fluent Hungarian and asked page 4 if I could help welcome them on behalf of the Navajo Nation and its people. Forgetting that it was November and the roads can be quite treacherous this time of year, I accepted without hesitation. It turned out to be much worse than I anticipated. The snow began falling at noon and by 4 p.m. when I started out for Tuba City, eight inches had accumulated. Even with my Explorer in 4-wheel drive all the way, the normally two-anda-half hour trip took me almost double that. When I finally arrived at the Tuba City High School gym, the first quarter of the game was nearly over, and I was asked to delay my "welcome speech" until halftime. Someone handed me a letter from the Vice President of the Navajo Nation and asked if I could translate it for the visiting team; it would be broadcast live on the local radio station. I'd had merely a box of Junior Mints and two cups of coffee since lunch, so I told them I'd do anything they asked, if only someone would get me a Coke and a piece of fry bread, which is the Navajo equivalent of our "langos." Then I glanced at the scoreboard and saw that the Magyar ladies were down by a point, 22-21. Now, I won't try to convince the reader that my loud cheering in Hungarian throughout the second quarter was responsible for the great turnaround. Yet the fact remains that our young ledies were leading by 8 points at the first half, and 1 had to subdue my cheering in consideration of the largely NAU-partisan Navajo crowd of about 500. I tend to value what little hair I have left. My halftime words of welcome, both my own (Isten hozta Magukat!) and those of the Navajo VP, were received with great surprise and pleasure by the Hungarian team and coaching staff. They couldn't imagine where this Magyarspeaking (albeit with a pronounced U.S. accent}, European looking man, wearing cowboy hat and boots, had come from. I spent nearly an hour after the game explaining that to them and answering their many questions about Native Americans and modern reservation life. Then they had to board a poorly heated bus back to Flagstaff. But I think all of us left feeling a little warmer than when we had arrived in Tuba City, not only from our chance meeting in the high desert of Northern Arizona, but because the Hungarian women had scored a decisive victory that evening. They beat NAU 93 to 71! That night I was exhausted, hoarse from yelling, my hands sore from clapping. But I felt great, having been in the company of my Hungarian sisters and brothers, if only for a brief couple of hours. For me, the memory of that fateful meeting will last many years. It will serve to reinforce my resolve to cherish and nurture my Hungarian heritage here in the American Southwest, or wherever life may lead me. Ernest S. Ferjentsik DDS, formerly of Fairfield, CT. THINKING ABOUT BUYING OR SELLING? LET JIM MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE! LET ME ASSIST YOU! CALL TODAY! GrtuiK____* *** GREENGARDEN REALTY, INC. 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