Lights in the Windows

IMG_5890

I biked yesterday from Sátoraljaújhely’s Museum of the Hungarian Language (which a student had recommended to me) all the way up to downtown Košice, Slovakia–in four hours or so, over hill, over dale. There is more to the whole trip than I want to put into words right now–stories upon stories–but here are two photos from the evening, after I returned by train from Košice to Slovenské Nové Mesto, the Slovak side of Sátoraljaújhely. Here is a horse grazing by the Ronyva stream, which separates the two countries here and the two sides of the town.

A little later, I passed by Sátoraljaújhely‘s little ohel (by the Jewish cemetery) and saw it lit up inside. There was a car parked out in front. I was so happy to see signs of life–though I may have misinterpreted the situation–that I thought of going up and knocking on the door. I immediately thought the better of it, though; I was bedraggled from the bike ride and did not want to bother anyone or show disrespect. Those lights may well have been signs of loss; beyond that, the place holds more losses than I will ever know. Under different circumstances, with advance inquiry and permission, I might visit one day; this was not the right time.

Pesach Sheni–“Second Pesach,” also known as “The Holiday of Second Chances,” had ended just an hour earlier; it’s possible that some people had come to the ohel to observe it. In that case, someone might have stayed late to put things back in place. But something entirely different may have been going  on.

IMG_5892

I biked onward toward Sárospatak, where I spent last night (I returned home today). Along the way, I heard frogs in the muddy stream and recorded the sounds. I learned last week from a student that frogs say “brekeke” in Hungarian. Remarkable, that! That must have come from Aristophanes’ Frogs, but how and when? Apparently there is even a Hungarian verb brekegni, which means “croaking,” or,  more figuratively, “chattering.” My dictionary doesn’t have it, but it does have brekeg (“croak”), brekegés (“croaking”), and (my favorite of all) brekegő (“croaky, croaking”). Unlike “croak” in English, these words have no connotation of death.

That brings me back to the Hungarian language, where one segment of the bike trip started. But this does not mean that I have come “full circle”; no circle circumscribes these past few days. Or if one does, it will take me some time to bike it.

 

I made a few edits and additions to this piece after posting it.

What’s in a Map, and What Isn’t?

hungary map

As I look at the map of Hungary (something I’ve been doing a lot lately), I see how it can be understood only through its history. The country is surrounded by Slovakia, Ukraine, Romania, Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, and Austria; from 1869 to the Treaty of Trianon (1920), Austro-Hungary (the Austrian Empire and the Kingdom of Hungary) encompassed most of this region. After Trianon, many Hungarian speakers found themselves cut off from Hungary. Hungary lost over two-thirds of its territory, while new countries (the Kingdom of Romania, the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, and the Czechoslovak Republic) gained sovereignty.

One of the principles of the Treaty of Trianon was the “self-determination of peoples”–but who and where are the peoples? Should countries be defined ethnically, and is this even possible? Eva S. Balogh argues that the new borders did not correspond closely with ethnic lines–and that, given many Hungarians’ belief that the only solution lay in the full restoration of the former Kingdom of Hungary, “it was almost inevitable that Hungary would end up on the side of Germany, the country dissatisfied with the status quo.” Or was it? Balogh herself suggests that if the situation had been presented and approached more carefully, things might have turned out differently.

IMG_3359To understand Trianon, one has to go back farther still, and then farther still, and forward too, and back again. Also, one cannot look at the “big picture” alone. If you zoom in on the map (which I obtained through Google Maps), you will see, to the southeast of Košice, a town called Sátoraljaújhely. Keep zooming in (you have to do so about five more times), and you will see, just over the Slovak border, another town, Slovenské Nové Mesto. These together were once a great town, a center of Jewish culture and the capital of Zemplén county. As of Trianon, the Ronyva stream has separated the Slovak (formerly Czechoslovak) side from the Hungarian side; that was neither the beginning nor the end of the sorrows. From the photo here on the left (which I took at the end of my bike trip in May), one would not know the town’s grief and losses: the World War II bombings, the deportation of nearly all the Jews to Auschwitz, the Soviet occupation. Even reading the history, I only begin to grasp parts, and only from a distance. I can zoom in further and further, I can visit the town and walk over the border, but still it will take years to understand, as a beginner, what happened here. It is worth the long, slow study.

 

The map image above is courtesy of Google Maps.