The Eighth Tribe, 1979 (6. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1979-02-01 / 2. szám
Page 6 THE EIGHTH TRIBE February, 1979 Small farmer, Siklós, southern Hungary. after exploring the cemetery where my relatives were buried. My Hungarian relations then showed me the house where he was born, the Református Templom he attended as a small boy. It would be a mistake to call this trip a vacation, though it was “vacation” time I used, to go. I think it was more a spiritual investment, this time spent walking in the land of Mátyás, Kossuth, Széchenyi and Bartók, this time spent learning about the hearts and minds of the magyar people, and consequently learning about myself, both virtues and shortcomings. So even if it wasn't a homecoming for me in the literal sense, perhaps it was for my genes. How else can I explain the firm sense of ‘place’ I felt throughout the country, whether in the capital or the countryside? I really then must conclude that those tiny pieces of biochemical information in every cell of the body, the genes, like the young woman in the ticket office suggested, really do not forget. And then finally, I had hoped to meet some relatives in Iszófalva, the village in Borsod Megye from We invite others, who visited or will visit Hungary, to share which my grandfather had come. And this we did, their experience and thoughts about their trip.—editor. Sculpture, National Gallery, Budapest. The author, John Sarkett, 27, heads his own public relations firm, Sarkett & Associates, in Chicago. The pictures were taken by the author.
