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.]