Amerikai Magyar Szó, 1979. július-december (33. évfolyam, 27-49. szám)
1979-08-30 / 32. szám
Thursday, Aug. 30. 1979. ISTV2N ÖRKÉNY THE IMPORTANCE OF LEARNING FOREIGN LANGUAGES István Örkény, internationally known Hungarian playwright and writer died last July. His untimely demise saddened millions throughout the world who attended and enjoyed the performances of such masterful plays, as “Cat’s Play” and “The Tot Family”. As a memorial to him, we publish one of his remarkable short stories. I don’t speak German. Somewhere between Budionny and Aleksaevka we had to push a few pieces of heavy artillery up a hill, for they were sinking fast into the mud.It was my turn, for the third time, to push a huge field gun, and the son of a bitch started rolling back just when I thought I had made it to the top. So I pretended I had to go to the toilet and sneaked away. I knew my way back to camp. I cut across a huge sunflower field and soon reached the stubble. The rich black soil clung to my boots as the lead weight must cling to deep-sea-divers, when they descent to the depths. I must have been walking for about twenty minutes when I ran into a Hungarian sergeant and a German officer whose rank I couldn’t figure out. Running into anyone, let alone these two, on that flat terrain was in itself an incredible stroke of bad luck. The German was sitting on a small folding chair, his legs spread wide apart, and from a container that looked like a tube of toothpaste, he was squeezing some kind of cheesespread on a slice of bread. The Hungarian sergeant was standing, smoking a cigarette. When the German saw me, he motioned me to stop. Was sucht er hier? “What’re you doing here?”- translated the sergeant. I said I lost my unit. Er hat seine Einheit verloren, said the sergeant. Warum ohne Waffe? “Where’s your gun?” the sergeant asked. I said I was in a forced labor camp. Jude, said the sergeant. Even I understood that. I tried to explain that I was not Jewish, but for being the local distributor of a leftist newspaper, I was assigned to a special forced labor company. Was? asked the German. Jude, the sergeant said. The German got up; he brushed the crumbs off his jacket. Ich werde ihn erschiessen, he said. “The major will now shoot you” translated the sergeant. By now I was drenched in sweat, and beginning to feel sick. The German screwed back the cap on the tube of cheesespread and took out his gun. Perhaps if I spoke German, I could have explained to him that I wasn’t wearing a yellow armband; therefore I couldn’t possibly be Jewish. Er soll zehn schritte weiter gehn. “Move on ten paces” said the sergeant. I moved ten paces and was ankle-deep in mud. “That’s enough.” Gut. I stopped. The major aimed his gun at me. I can still remember how all of a sudden my head felt terribly heavy and I thought my insides would burst. The major lowered his gun. Was ist sein letzter Wunsch? he asked. “What is your last wish?” the sergeant asked. I said I had to move my bowels. Er will scheissen, the sergeant translated. While I was relieving myself, the major leaned on his gun. As soon as I straightened out, he lifted it.. Fertig? he asked. “Finished?” I said finished. Fertig, the sergeant reported. The major’s gun must have had an upward aim because he seemed to be pointing it at my navel. I stood motionless for about a minute. Then, still pointing the gun at me, the major said: Er soll hupfen. “Start hopping” translated the sergeant. After I had hopped for a while, I had to crawl. Then he ordered me to do fifteen pushups. Finally he told me to make an about-face. Stechschritt! “Goose-step” came the translation. Marsch! I tried to march but it was no use; I had trouble enough walking, let alone goose-stepping. Balls of mud were flying over my head. I was proceeding at a maddeningly slow pace, sensing all the while that the major was aiming his gun at my back. To this day I could tell the exact spot where the gun seemed to have been pointing, if not for that sea of mud my ordeal would have lasted a mere five minutes. This way, however, more than a half hour had elapsed before I could bring myself to drop on my stomach and look back. I don’t speak any Italian either; unfortunately, I have no ear for languages. Last summer I was in Rimini, Italy, on a ten-day organized tour. One evening, in front of a luxury hotel called Regina Palace, I recognized the major. But I was out of luck. If I had gotten there a minute earlier, I would have knocked his brains out. As it turned out, he was just getting on a red glass-topped bus with several other people and didn’t even recognize me. Lacking the necessary command of foreign languages, all I could do was yell in my native Hungarian: “Stop! Don’t let that Nazi pig get away!” The doorman, a tall, robust Sudanese, shook his fingers at me and motioned with his head: scram! I couldn’t even explain to him what had happened even though he probably spoke French and English, as well as Italian. But unfortunately, I only speak Hungarian. INTERESTING, INFORMATIVE PICTORIAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE HUNGARIAN REVIEW In English $ 1 2.- per year, catalog 75 cents FAM BOOK SERVICE, 69 Fifth Ave. New York.NY 10003 POP MUSIC IN HUNGARY According to Dr. Peter Erdos, a department head at Hungaroton, Hungary’s recording company, about 70 % of the records they release come into the popular music category, and a high proportion of those are sold and listened to by young people. No one in Hungary doubts any more that pop has a big social influence, that it has an effect on young people’s feelings, attitudes and thinking. English versions At first Zsuzsa Koncz and Fonograf were the favorites with young people. Now their places seems to have been taken by Judit Szucs, while Omega, Locomotiv GT, Klári Katona and Mini are also riding high. Hungarian groups and soloists have met with success in other countries too, and so have Hungaroton’s pop albums. Up to now - said Dr. Erdos - our artists have only recorded in Hungarian, but the latest album in English by the Neoton Family has blazed a new trail and in the future we’ll be doing English versions of our best recordings. Of course no one thinks Hungari- an pop’s going to conquer the world, but with successive waves of new composers and artist coming on the scene, and with our improved technical back-up we can see our pop recordings developing into quite a profitable export venture in the not too distant future. That is what we are working on. IZRAELI writer, poet and translator, Mordechai Avi-Shaul has been awarded the Banner Order of the Hungarian People’s Republic on his 80th birthday for his work in popularizing Hungarian literature abroad. TO OUR READERS dERITAGE has recently acquired a limited, stock of George Lang’s THE CUISINE OF HUNGARY. “Immensely edifying”, Craig Claiborne said of this cookbook, and Gael Green, in New York Magazine commented: “THE CUISINE OF HUNGARY is exactly what a visit to an unexplored kitchen ought to be: history, anthropology, sociology, gossip and a cooking primer. This fascinating cookbook is yours — FREE — if you act NOW! Renew your own subscription to HERITAGE for $ 3.00, and send us a new subscription at S 3.00 (for a total of $ 6.00). HERITAGE,.130 East 16th Street, New York, New York 10003. Please send me a copy of THE CUISINE OF HUNGARY Name:---------------------------------------------------Address:---------------------------Zip no:----------I enclose S 6.00 - (check or money order) for my renewal subcripition to HERITAGE — and a new HERITAGE subscripition to be sent to: M Name:--------------------------------------------------Address:---------------------1— ------Zip no:— ——AMERIKAI MAGYAR SZÓID _
