Anyáknap Majus 2010

[Mother's Day 2010]

I’ve always found Mother’s Day to be a special holiday—it almost always seems to be sunny, there are always flowers, hugs, maybe a little gift, a delicious meal, and a lot of love.  Here in Magyarmecske things were a little bit different.  While I missed my mother on the day (and maybe she missed me) I saw something else that was a beautiful and different expression of the holiday.  For weeks in April the children prepared for a Mother’s Day event at the school.  Each class had (and every year has) the chance to perform something for their dear mums.  

 Room filled with families (mainly mothers and grandmothers) watching their children recite and sing.

In the schools verse (or poem) memorization is an important part of the Hungarian lesson.  For example, when I was with the 2^nd graders every week they learned a new part of a verse so that after a few weeks they would know the whole poem.  Every Friday they stand in front of the class and recite what they learned—one by one.  If they do a good job, they can move their chair to the front of the room and move on to the next stanza or poem.  They also are able to evaluate each other on rhythm, tone, and presentation.  (Which has been cute to see the children evaluate each other—“Oh! I really like that! She/he said it so beautifully” or “I think you need to work on speed because it was too fast.”)  This verse memorization comes into play for this Mother’s Day event.  Each class prepared a poem or song for the mothers about mothers and children—mostly poems or songs of love and thanks.  

 Children looking on.

Each child said part of the verse or a short poem.  The lunchroom was decorated with flowers and filled with emotion, pride, and love on the day when the children recited and sung.  In art class the children also had the opportunity to make paper flowers which they could give to their mothers after they recited the verse.  They also could buy a single flower for their mother and give that to her.  If the child didn’t have a mother, they could have a poem to their grandmother or to their father or choose not to recite.  While it was a day of joy for many children, it was also a glimpse into family dynamics.  For example one of the 2^nd graders father’s came because his mother is not present; a 4^th grader chose not to recite because his mother is not present and his father is an alcoholic and plays a minimal role in his life; and a few of the children just didn’t recite because they were a little bit naughty.  But for the most part everyone did something.  

 Second graders waiting to recite. With flowers for their mothers.

First graders (Vivien, Anette, Klaudia).

The first graders started off, each one reciting and even some crying as they recited.  It was surprisingly emotional—the poems were very nice and the beauty of the words plus the love for their mothers brought a few to tears.  The second graders followed with similar reactions of reciting and crying.  The third graders had a slide show with music—each child had brought in a picture of themselves with their mother (or family) which was set to music and slides.  To say the least it was a very special day and a great show of the importance of family—especially mothers.  I think also because people don’t tend to leave very much or go very far away, there is a very strong connection to family and separation even for a short period of time is difficult.  To the people who live here, who may not have much, family is the one thing you can have and literally hold onto making it a central and important feature in everyone’s lives.  On this day it was beautiful to see families connect and mothers smile.

 Second graders.

I am always amazed at how well the children do with memorization of poems and stories and it was great to see them all in their best clothes, being clever and doing something so nice.  While I always think we do good things for our mothers in the US, I have never seen something like this—maybe next year I’ll memorize a verse because now it feels like a card just won’t cut it!  (Unfortunately, as far as I know, there is no Father’s Day here—sorry dads!)

 Fourth graders and up reciting and singing.

 

I also had a chance to go to the Ovoda (preschool) and see their Mother’s Day event.  Even these tiny 3-6 year olds, who can’t even read, memorized verses (some were actually pretty long!), sung songs, and did dances for their mothers.   

Ovoda gyerekek (preschool children).

[I had a really good seat at the ovoda so I took lots of pictures! Here are a just a few!]

 Reciting a long verse.

I was helping with an English class throughout the winter and the last two pictures are women who attended the class (along with their little preschoolers).

So this post goes out as a thank you to mothers—for giving life and being who you are!  A special thank you to my own mother—I love you!

 Popular Mother's Day song:

 Mama kérlek – Koncz Zsuzsa 

[Brief translation: the singer is asking their mother about her mother's life as well as her own: how she came to be--did you think of me before I was born--was I an accident, was I planned, was it coincidence that I was born, who was your first love? I think it is coincidence that my father is who he is, I am thinking of the future when I am in love, and the man asks me--what should I say to him?]

The translation can't really do it justice because from what I experienced it is a really nice song and the kids were very into it. 

[One again, belated post. My apologies. Hope you enjoy it. Any questions, comments about anything please send me an email. emilie.swenson@gmail.com]

Kellemes Húsvéti Ünnepeket Kivánok!

[Or Easter greetings!]

The short of it: March flew by and April seems to be moving even more rapidly.  The past month and a half have seemed busy with lots of comings and goings.  Spent an overnight with the young adults from Gilvanfa (the village next to where we live, where Simon works, and where we also spend some time after school).  We did some cooking (creating a questionable goulash), were entertained by a lot of great guitar playing and singing, played some hide and go seek, hiked around in the woods and fields, got to know each other better, and stayed up almost the entire night...  

In mid-March the volunteers gathered in Magyarkut for our first Roma-Gadje Dialogue through Service seminar.  A five day retreat full of cultural exchange, conversation, discussion, music, and strong hazi palinka (homemade palinka, or fruit brandy)...  

And most recently I spent some time in the Ukraine with Livia and her family for Easter.  In the past month and a half I have learned a lot more about Hungary, a few more Hungarian words, met a lot of great people, and seen the results of the recent Hungarian elections (April 11^th), and upon posting have experienced the “Majus fa” tradition where boys go out on the last night of April, cut down a tree, and put it out in front of the house of the girl that they like.  The next day the girls wake up to trees in front of their house and everyone takes a look at who has gotten trees (and how many)!  

 The "May trees" lining the street of Magyarmecske.

They are very tall...it took about 15 guys to put this up. The whole gang of young men went around the village helping each other to put them up in front of all the girls houses.

Easter in the Ukraine.

After a few weeks of drawing bunnies and eggs with baskets and chicks in the school, Livia and I headed off to the Ukraine to be with her family and to enjoy our little Easter break.  The journey was long—leaving our village by bus at 5.30am, taking two trains to Nyiregyhaza (a city in northeastern Hungary), and then going by car with Livia’s father to her village (making stops along the way, to buy things needed for the holiday cooking, including one stop that had nothing to do with food, but to a friend of her father’s who happened to have an ostrich right next to his chicken pen!).  Once again we went through the border, I filled out a piece of paper indicating where I was going and why, while Livia’s dad chatted with the border guards in a mix of Russian and Hungarian (depending on the person).  A lively spirit and a man who crosses the border often, he has gotten to know those who work at the border quite well.  A good 12+ hours after our original departure time we arrived at Livia’s house and were greeted with her mother’s sweet voice and kisses on the cheek.  Not to mention some delicious food.

 Attila, another volunteer, who comes from the same village as Livia, with the "strucc" aka ostrich.

 Kisbegany, Ukraine. Livia's village (outside her house).

My time was spent mostly relaxing and eating (a real vacation I suppose) as well as seeing Livia’s friends and family (her grandfather, who is also her next door neighbor; and her mother’s parents, her godparents, and cousins, who live a few villages away).  We visited the nearby city of Beregszász and did a little bit of shopping and walking around the city. In regards to matters of culinary indulgency, fortunately Livia’s mother is a great cook and so I certainly ate well, enjoying some favorite dishes including tortott kaposta, pasta with lekvar, francia salata, and a wide variety of cakes and rolls.  I was even greeted by some surprise English upon leaving the Easter Sunday service when the pastor said to me “Jesus rise!” or something of the fashion.  I was, in the first few seconds, shocked and then replied the Easter mantra “Jesus has risen!” Which led me to crave the response “He is risen indeed!” with some lilies, some horns, and little pomp and circumstance (unfortunately none of those things happened...)   However, after spending almost an hour trying to follow some dense Hungarian during the service I did feel quite uplifted as we walked home and as I tried to explain in Hungarian the word “rise” to Livia.  “Like bread with yeast!  Or like Jesus on Easter!  Or like the sun in the morning!”  (Interesting thing with language is that throughout the whole service I know that the word rise was used in a variety of ways and tenses and I know that I understood when it was said, but trying to remember what that word actually was turned out to be quite impossible!  And that is a perfect example of the gap between understanding and speaking.)

One great thing about going with Livia to her village was to experience some Easter traditions.  In Hungary and in neighboring areas locsolni is the action word on Easter Monday (pronounced ‘locholni’).  Literally it means “to sprinkle.”  Now what would people sprinkle on Easter you ask?  To that, I give you perfume!  But in my village here in Hungary, to that I give you water!  Luckily for me I was in an area where perfume is the norm, because otherwise I would have been quite soaked.  What happens is that throughout the day boys of all ages, the locsolok, dressed in their Sunday best (or Monday best in this case) come around to the houses (much in the fashion of trick or treating), say a little verse, spray the girls/women with perfume, and in return receive eggs or chocolates or candies or pieces of cake (or all of the above, depending on whose house you are in).  The younger boys come with little baskets, the smallest ones accompanied by their fathers, while the older boys, including friends or classmates (who usually come in small groups) come inside, sit down, and are presented with trays or meats and cakes, as well as drinks (from fruit juice to vodka to cola to chocolate liqueur) and they stay and chat for a little while, eat a little, and most likely drink something alcoholic (which for some boys, ends up making quite a party since they tend to go to many houses).  And for the girls, at the end of the day you have received quite a variety of scents and smell quite...interesting.  Just imagine being sprayed with 15 different perfumes (many quite strong) in the span of six or so hours.

 Livia's dad with a group of gypsy guys that went around to different houses playing music for the Easter Monday.

One of the verses recited before the spraying of perfume:

Zöld erdőben jártam
Kék ibolyát láttam
El akart hervadni
Szabad-e locsolni?

[Translates roughly to: I walked in the green forest; I saw a blue violet; it wanted to wither away; can I sprinkle you?]

Plates of food prepared for the boys that came to "locsolni."

 

Livia's cousin's son. Did some locsolni and got a chocolate nyuci (rabbit)!

Many people in villages have their own animals--Livia's family has pigs, chickens, and rabbits.

Ukrainian money--Grivna.

After some good time off, we headed back to the border and back to the village life here in Magyarmecske. 

The Update from Magyarmecske.

To start off, a little bit about my weekly schedule.  Up until mid January (the halfway point in the school year) I was with the 2^nd grade class four days a week and the 4^th grade class one day a week.  This was really great for me because it allowed me to really get to know the second graders (a class and an age that is always willing to talk with me, appreciate what I can give them, and always accept me) and was also a good place to learn some Hungarian.  For the second half of the year I have been with the 4^th graders two days a week, the 3^rd graders two days a week, and the 2^nd graders one day a week.  For the most part this has been good, although I miss spending lots of time with the second graders.  On Tuesdays the English teacher comes and I spend time with her in the 2^nd and 3^rd grade classes in the afternoon.  My best subject by far is math—I am always able to help (as long as I have understood the directions), which is a great feeling.  Math is also a bit freer than the other subjects and the children are given a task and have time to complete it.  This gives me the chance to really move around the room and help them.  The problem with being one body amongst many is that everyone shouts for me to help them and then get mad when I am unable to get to them.  (There are also chances to get mad at me when it comes to lining up and being my partner or sitting next to someone…but luckily for the most part the anger lasts for about ten seconds and then they forget about it.)  And so goes by the day from 8am until 3.30pm—helping the children with their work to the best of my ability, playing with them during breaks, drawing thousands of pictures for them, and simply just talking with them and asking them about their own lives.   

 The street of Mecske after a shower.

Perfect rainbow after the storm.

On Language.

Hungarian is still a constant challenge in my life. But it is always getting a little better. Though I’m pretty sure that even when I leave Hungarian will still be quite a mystery to me.  It has been fun to deal with language with the kids at the school because they are always curious about understanding.  Constant questions include “How do you say…in English?” or “What time is it in America?”  Things like time and language are concepts that are hard to grasp for adults, but the kids are constantly amazed that I am able to provide answers to these questions, that I understand English, English songs, and that there is a six hour time difference between Magyarmecske and Boston.  I think the 3^rd graders have prompted me with the most questions about language, asking me things like “How do you understand English?” and “Where did you learn English?” and “Did your mother teach you?” And the older children who I meet in the hallways during breaks will ask me if I know famous people, have seen Lambourginis and Ferarris, ask me to translate pop songs into Hungarian, and now after about six months ask me “You speak Hungarian now?” or “Your Hungarian is better now, yes?”  Recently the 4^th grade class was learning about the Hungarian national anthem—to which the teacher said that every group of people has an anthem, so afterwards the kids were constantly asking me about the American national anthem and of course to sing it.  (I am always being asked to sing and I am generally willing to sing, but unfortunately my voice is not the greatest and I always forget the words to songs unless I am listening to them at the moment.  But ask me how many times I have sung the refrain to Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” and I will tell you that I’m sure it has been almost a million.)  But the great thing is that children are curious and ask questions and I think that the language and culture exchange has been a positive experience for both the children and me.  Plus, when your own language skills are limited it is always makes you feel good when people ask you questions and are interested in you and your background (even if my answers are, no I’ve never met anyone famous, unless you count the time that Sigorny Weaver’s daughter was on my tour at Bates, and no I’ve never sat in a Mazerati).  

 Spring scene in the Hungarian countryside.

[Editor’s Note: Yes. This is late. Not even a little late. But a lot late. My apologies for this. It has been in writing for quite a long time, but due to internet problems, computer difficulties, and lack of time for posting, it was not posted.]

On Traveling.

Packing is a joke...

Before I go on a trip I always stress out a little in my head and become a little OCD. Sometimes I make lists, sometimes I start thinking about packing the week before...or maybe weeks before if it is a long "trip" (say to Hungary for example). I put things in piles, I count and recount how many days I will be gone for, I pack, and sometimes I repack. I need to be at the train station, bus station, or airport early. I need to look at my ticket a thousand times. Check and recheck for where it is. Check and recheck where my wallet is. All while trying to remain "komoly" (serious) and calm to everyone else and even trying to convince myself that I am calm. (I have also realized that drinking coffee before traveling, especially before getting on an airplane is a bad idea for me—the strong caffeine just makes me that much more “excited” aka nervous!)

Recently I had the chance to do a little traveling up to Presov, Slovakia to visit with some other volunteers. As I traveled on my way to Budapest and then to Presov I thought about my intense packing routines. I am always concerned about overpacking (a very Swensoni problem). But as I was sitting on the train I began to think that packing is a joke. Whether I overpack or underpack (which may be impossible considering my genes) I realized how important people are to me and how unimportant the stuff actually is. When I travel, I think about the people I'm leaving--what they'll do when I am away, what stories they will have for me when I get back; I think about the people I am going to see--I think about how excited I am to meet them, to do new things, to see new places, and have a chance to be with others to converse, talk about experiences, life, and to joke around. When I think about these intangible expressions of life I think about how silly I can be when I go through my crazy packing routines and how unnecessary a lot of stuff is (easy to say now that I know I haven't forgotten my tooth brush...or duct tape...).

Thinking about this recent trip to Slovakia and trips of the past I am reminded of a poem that we first heard at our orientation in Chicago called "Passover Remembered" by Alla Bozarth-Campbell. It begins, "Pack nothing." Funny how these things come to you. I hadn't really thought about that poem since orientation, but here it is back in my mind and I realize how true it is. While I have been very glad that I was prepared in terms of having “stuff” on my travels, I have found that the people make all the difference—finding understanding, making new connections, having interesting conversations, joking around, and seeing new ways of thinking. The “stuff” just seems to fade away.

On the train I was reading a book about the Camino de Santiago (a pilgrimage route in northern Spain), written by a woman who did the entire walk (the book is Walk in a Relaxed Manner by Joyce Rupp). Her stories and advice have made me think about my experiences here in Hungary so far--as this is about the halfway mark. Thinking about first impressions, things that are different, the new community with whom I now live, the music that is playing on my iPod, the people I talk to, the things I do on a daily basis, and the things that I have come to love. She talks a lot about journey and adventure and pilgrimage and while I feel that her experience as a wandering pilgrim was much different than my more stationary life in Hungary, I think her basic premises of living in the moment, absorbing the environment surrounding you, the people, the culture, and all the richness of life, whether good or bad also speaks to my own adventures here in central Europe. As I was reflecting on packing, traveling, people, and being I laughed a little to myself as I read her words. She says regarding a conversation with her friend, with whom she did the pilgrimage with,

We agreed that probably some of our values and beliefs might have deepened a bit but nothing seemed “life changing” for us. What we did not realize, of course, was that we were still living the experience.

I laughed because in my head I jumped to the future—what will I think in August, September, October, next February about this experience. My reflections now are one way—as I am “still living in the experience” and I wonder to the future. But as I wonder to what will come, I also look around to what is, struggle to absorb everything, to remember words, to enjoy what I have here, and to be. Which brings me back to Bozarth-Campbell’s poem. It continues later on,
Set out in the dark.
I will send fire to warm and encourage you.
I will be with you in the fire, and I will be with you in the cloud.
You will learn to eat new food
and find refuge in new places.
I will give you dreams in the desert
to guide you safely to that place you have not yet seen.
The stories you tell one another around the fires in the dark
will make you strong and wise.

Through my travels so far, from the people I have met, the places I have seen, I have always been strengthened by stories. With or without stuff—my lists of things and bags of clothes (or roll of duct tape), I meet people and have been able to enjoy what life brings in good or in bad conditions. Everywhere I have been, the children still play, people still tell stories, laugh, and love, and life still goes on, whether it is in a big beautiful house or the poorest of slums.  For this I have been grateful.

So I take this opportunity to share some pictures from travels near and far in these first six months of my time in Hungary.  Each experience was quite different!

My first trip to Slovakia.  October 2009.  Visited Emily who is serving in the small village of Rankovce. (Southeastern Slovakia) My first solo travel experience this year--a bit nerveracking and I was amazed that I got there! Took three buses and then a train to get to Kosice. The train was delayed about an hour or more and I didn't have a cell phone to tell Emily it would be late. Luckily she waited for me. I can't even express how happy I was to see her! Got to experience some of her daily life and share in good conversation about our first few months in our new homes.

The view from Emily's room in Rankovce

Halloween masks and some of the Roma children of her village at an after school program, just steps away from where Emily lives. Was definitely an interesting experience being immersed in Slovak, but I learned a few words and Emily told them that I could draw, so I spent a lot of time drawing for the kids (and found that there are a few words that are the same in Slovak and Hungarian!).

We got to ride in an ambulance as we went with Frana, a community health worker to different sites around Kosice, Slovakia as she checked up on families to make sure children had gotten their vaccines.

Emily and I in the stairwell of a block apartment building. There were either no windows or broken windows in the stairwell. Hundreds of people (Roma) live in these run down buildings. An eye opening experience to the poverty of Roma in Slovakia.  Surprisingly though when we went into one of the apartments it was really nice, cozy, and warm--very different from the outside appearance.

A slum on the outskirts of Kosice. About 1,000 Roma live here. We heard when we visited that the people were there illegally because it is privately owned land. Many have inhabited that site for years, but the land owner has now decided that he wants to use the land, so these people will all be displaced. It is uncertain to where they will go or what they will do.

Beautiful cathedral in Kosice.

Emily, me, Lisa. (Emily and Lisa are both YAGMs serving in Slovakia)

Kosice. From what I saw of the city center, it is a beautiful little city. In this part it was hard to imagine that the slums we had just seen existed. 

Vienna, Austria. December 2009. Livia, Simon, and I went with some of the teachers from the school in Magyarmecske to the Lindt chocolate factory and then to stroll around the Christmas markets of Vienna. (A whirlwind journey that lasted about 20 hours.)

That's me!

With an elephant in Maria Theresien Platz, outside the history museum (I think).

Christmas market. The windows of the building were like an advent calendar.

The biggest window was the 24th.

Giant advent wreath!

Seminar in Berekfurdo, Hungary. January 2010. (Northeastern Hungary) Spent 5 days with the other volunteers who are working in Hungary and the surrounding areas of Carpathia and Romania. It was a really good time to refesh, talk with the other volunteers, and think about our year so far.  Also good to get to know the Hungarian speaking volunteers a bit better. When we first met in September we weren't able to communicate, but now as we've learned some Hungarian we could all have a good time together! There was a thermal bath (outdoors) that we also got to enjoy! The last night it snowed a lot and on Sunday as we were leaving...

The little travant got stuck! But we pushed it out.

Julia and I drove from Magyarmecske to Berekfurdo and back again (a six hour trip one way).

(Julia on the left and Livia "crying" on the right.)

Winter wonderland in the fields around Berekfurdo!

(Where is the sky and where is the ground!)

Stuck.

That's me! The car only had about 670,000km on it...

Presov, Slovakia. February 2010. Spent three days visiting Lisa, bookended by stays in Budapest. Celebrated her birthday with her host family, colleagues, as well as fellow YAGMs Emily and Kristy (who serves in another small village in Hungary). A really nice time to get a glimpse of her life, see Presov (another nice little city) and enjoy some conversation and cake (and Olympics)! (Her host father also speaks Hungarian, so it was nice to be able to communicate with him via this new language!) 

Presov from atop a hill

YAGM ladies (Emily, Kristy, and Lisa).

Beautiful designs on a church.

Presov. Really nice colorful buildings--red, green, blue, yellow.

And if anyone was wondering. Yes, Remax is an international brand! (I was working for a Remax office in Arlington, MA before this year so I always notice Remax things. Also an office in Pecs, Hungary, and for sale signs near Lake Balaton!)