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The Boy who would be King: *Marudhunayagam*

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Bana

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“Két napja a sivatagban még simán le tudtad rajzolni Laffénak Kis-Magyarországot, aztán szülőföld okán egy búsat, magyarosat sóhajtva a nagyot is, mert legalább itt, a világ végén, ahol a közelben lakó Úristenen, meg egy beduinon kívül senki se látja, legalább itt nem hagyod a történelmi realitásérzéked meg vérontásfóbiád a nagy nemzetbarát fölé kerekedni. Igaz, az valahogy még most se jut eszedbe, hogy néped megőrzése fontosabb a morális univerzáliáknál. Hogy ez így választható lenne: népem, vagy morál. Szóval tegnapelőtt már-már megesküdtél volna, hogy a nyelvi akadály egy humbug. Hogy kézzel-lábbal, angolul meg homokba rajzolva bármit el lehet, még egy viccet is. Most viszont egy befőttesüveggel az öledben rádöbbensz, hogy Magyarországot igen, a Közel-Keletet igen, engem is, téged igen, talán még Istent is lerajzolhatod. A kovászt soha.”

PatriotismHungary
Book:A Lázár apokrifek
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“Eszembe jut, ahogy megpendítette ezeket a mi tragikus bohózatba illő hadüzeneteinket - például az oroszoknak meg az amerikaiaknak. Hogy azt hitték a politikusaink, elég csupán hepciáskodva hadat üzenniük, a győzelmet meg majd vívják ki nekünk ezek a szorgos németek. És a dolog csak húzódik, nyúlik a végtelenségbe. Meddig kell ezt még bírni, Artúr?, kérdi Heltai. Meddig kell bírni még a zsidóságot, a hideget, az éhezést, az elsötétítést, a bombázást, a hajléktalanságot, a munkátlanságot, a szegénységet, a betegséget meg a poloskát? És mindezt csak azért, mert - pusztán a németek iránti udvariasságból - megüzentük Amerikának és Oroszországnak a háborút. A háború pedig nem üzent vissza, hanem személyesen idejött. Senki sem gondolt arra, hogy ez lehetséges lesz. Mindenki azt hitte, hogy ezt a németek elintézik, ők harcolnak majd, mi pedig a tribünről, páholyból drukkolunk nekik.”

Hungary2 Ww
Book:Hajó ​a ködben
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“A sarokban a tűzifahalomnál öregember ült. Egymásra szorított tenyérrel alig hallhatóan, ismeretlen szavakat mormolva imádkozott. Világított a szeme. Z. félt tőle. Nálunk bújik a bácsi, súgta az apja. Mikor évekkel később beszélgettek a háborúról, megkérdezte apját, mi lett a bácsival, aki a pincénkben bújt el. Nem tudom, mondta az apja. Zsidó volt, üldözték őket. A kórházban is voltak zsidó orvos barátaim, elvitték, megölték őket hagytátok?”

JewsHungary2 Ww
Book:Amit a szél susog
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“It was well after midnight when I put the thick document called ‘Invitation to Tender for a concession to provide GSM services in Hungary’ on my bedside cabinet. The document had been reissued on October 15, 1992. I had quickly scanned, and hopefully absorbed, the main points. The tender was organized as a beauty contest and the winning consortia would be allowed to participate in the auction to be held next year. There were two concessions up for grabs, one that would surely go to the existing NMT operator Westel (US West & Bell Atlantic) and one for a new party. It was shut eye time now, I was tired. The flight to Budapest would leave early in the morning, so I had only a few hours to rest.”

TechnologyMobileMobile PhonesHungaryBudapestMobile PhoneGsmWestel
Book:Your phone, my life: Or, how did that phone land in your hand?
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“The former banker helped us with the financial plans, figuring out how much we could afford to bid in the auction. We concluded that we could certainly bid USD 45 million for a 20-year license in Hungary. Swedish Telecom was very confident, their CEO had said in radio interviews that he thought that 1 in 4 people would have a mobile phone by the year 2000. This was overly optimistic according to the other consortium partners. They were more conservative and we had difficulty persuading them to put up more money”

MobileSwedishMobile PhonesHungaryTelecommunicationsMobile Phone
Book:Your phone, my life: Or, how did that phone land in your hand?
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“There’s something about border towns that tastes like spilt liquor and cigarette ash. They rarely greet you with a smile. More like a shrug, a raised eyebrow, maybe a tax. And crossing from Slovakia into Hungary felt exactly like that: like the end of a party we were never really invited to. Gone were the manicured roads and apologetic drivers of the West. In their place: cracked tarmac, sun-faded billboards, and a lingering Cold War hangover you couldn’t quite shake off. It was perfect.”

HungaryBeautifullyrawBordertownsCultureshiftCycletransitionEasterneuropePostcoldwarRoadrealitySaddlesorewritingTravelmood
Book:SaddleSore: From England to India
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“The paprika was in fact brought to Europe by the Spaniards, probably from Southern Mexico or Peru. The first shipment was apparently sent by a colleague of Columbus in 1494. It seems to have arrived in Hungary sometime in the sixteenth century, brought by people fleeing from the Turks, for the plant had found its way from Spain to the Balkans and was known in Hungary as 'heathen' or 'Turkish' pepper. Since then it has become the characteristic spice of Hungarian cuisine.”

EuropeHungaryBalkansPaprika1494
Book:Roads That Move: A Journey through Eastern Europe
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“This Magyar-Vlach hostility is shared to some extent by both peoples. The Hungarians feel themselves to be surrounded by a sea of Slavs and other races with which they have no affinity. It is certainly true that their language has no affinity with the Indo-European languages by which they are surrounded. The Romanians, or some of them, feel that they are an outpost of Latin civilisation set in a hostile sea of Asiatic Magyars and Slavs. The truth is that both peoples inhabit a part of the world which has been overrun, depopulated, repopulated and overrun again so many times through their histories, that any notion of racial integrity is merely absurd. Huns, Avars, Magyars, Turks, Cumans, Pechenegs, Bulgars, Vachs, Ruthenians, Saxons, Austrians, Greeks and just about every other European and Asian people have contributed to the stew. What provides a national integrity, where it can be said to exist at all, is language, and an acknowledgement of a common history. But the fierce hatreds, alas, are unlikely to vanish. Communism kept then below the surface, as it suppressed all forms of dissent and much individuality. Now that the cork has been taken from the bottle, it may be that all sorts of evil spirits will roam abroad and none more dangerous than that romantic nationalism which defines itself by the hostile exclusion of others from the community of what counts as human.”

LanguageCommunismNationalismHungaryRomaniaMagyarSlavsVlach
Book:Roads That Move: A Journey through Eastern Europe
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