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Chatuhshringi

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“Take us to Chatuhshringi!” It was that time of the year again and both our girls were jumping up and down in pleading excitement. It had been a tradition since moving to Pune, India for us to attend the College Cultural Emphasis Day on October 1 as each of the cultures of India were displayed in float and dance. This was followed up by a trip to Chatuhshringi where the equivalent to a Fair Indian style took place.
Now the Pune we knew in 1980 has advanced rapidly since, but in those days you could expect to see mostly rural types from surrounding villages with a smattering of city folk milling around at the fair looking at a smorgasbord of entertainments accompanied by an assortment of Hindi songs blaring in opposition to each other from hundreds of loud speakers. Similar to western fairs were the usual freak shows and throw a ball stalls, but there was a difference in the assorted magic and snake shows on display here. Many of those former remote villages are now a part of Pune as urban sprawl has overtaken.
So we headed for Chatuhshringi, parked our vehicle well away from the meandering bands of village kids looking for paint to scratch their initials on and fought our way through happy crowds who were shouting “Foreigner nam kia hai?” (What’s your name?) Women lined up to pinch our girl’s cheeks as we passed by and touch their unusual light colored hair. The girls were accustomed to this by now and smiled back at the cheek pinching village women. It was the custom; it was friendly!
First port of call was always the carousel. Now for those of you thinking western you’ll have a mental image of a power driven set of docile horses sitting demurely waiting to do their gentle undulating bounce around in a circle when the motor fired up. But this carousel was different and the kids loved it. The horses looked like fugitives from Dante’s Inferno with startled eyes and flaring nostrils, bodies painted in startling colors. The motor was a young lad who pushed them around at breakneck speed. Our girls looked on the western version as entertainment for wimps.
Friendly touts appeared from nowhere pushing us vigorously toward their stalls where crowds milled about sampling the gastronomic delights, while hands grabbed urgently from behind seeking to delay our progress so we could see what others had to offer.
The crocodile tent looked interesting so we dragged our touts in that direction. There inside the tent was a tub and nothing more. Our hangers-on accompanied us into the tent and dozens of hands retrieved squirming baby crocs and thrust them in our direction. Three thousand rupees yelled the vendor (US$ 430 at that time). “Buy one, we can keep it in our bath tub!” shouted my girls. “Take two!” yelled the vendor, and the touts all shouted in unison “two!” I smiled and pulled my disappointed kids out of the tent with the touts swarming like bees behind us loudly urging us in four directions at once.
It was soon after that I felt both girls press in close and lock their arms around my legs. I looked down and saw big wide eyes staring to the side and I followed their gaze. A band of Hijras (Eunuchs) materialized in front of us concentrating on the girls who they’d noted had been scared by their sudden appearance. They’d never seen Hijras before and I could remember the first time I’d seen them in Hyderabad. It was the day Hijras customarily marched and this unusual pink painted human dressed in a sari with eyes outlined in red appeared in front of me as I was about to deliver my speech. It looked like a demon arisen from the hellish pit to me at that time, so I completely lost thoughts for my carefully rehearsed speech. Since that time I’d seen Hijras in all parts of India as I travelled so knew how to handle them this time. All they wanted was money, and of course it was a bonus to scare these two foreign girls. I paid them and they responded with groans that had the girls nearly collapsing in fear. “We want to go home,” they pleaded weakly.
So I headed laboriously back to our vehicle with two small children locked firmly on board, one on each leg looking anxiously around them for signs of the feared apparitions. I’d no trouble encouraging them into the car for the trip back home. On arrival they dashed into the house and spilled an incomprehensible torrent of words to describe their experience.
“© Copyright Ian Grice 2013 All rights reserved”

Places of interest in Pune:
Pune or Punyanagri as it is sometimes called has a glorious past of nearly 1000 years. It is the capital of Pune district in Maharashtra state of India. Some of the places that are a must on every Pune visitors list are: Parvati Hill and temples, Saras Baug Peshwa Park and Ganapati temple, Shaniwar Wada the historic palace of the Peshwa, Raja Kelkar Museum, Agakhan Palace famous as the place of internment of Mahatma Gandhi and his wife. Chatuhshringi Temple famous especially during the Navrathi festival, Sinhagad Fort famous for the heroic effort of Tanaji Malusare a commander in Shivaji’s army. Balgandhary Rang Mandir famous for the Balgandhary Music festival.
A Special note on the Ganesh Festival
This festival is celebrated in honour of the birth day of Ganesh. The God of wisdom is worshipped for ten days in houses privately and also publicly in huge, decorated Pandals. The Ganapati Festival celebrations are most popular in Mumbai and Pune. In Pune, theme based decorations including giant sets and replicas of famous places of historical importance are given more emphasis whereas, idols of different sizes and beautiful features made by renowned artists is the speciality of Mumbai. The idols are usually made of clay and ornamented with bright colours. Many cultural events are organised and people participate in them with keen interest. On the tenth day, huge processions carry images of the God to be disposed of into the water, hoping for them to return early next year. When the idols are immersed in the water, people sing, “GANPATI BAPPA MORYA, PUDHCHYA WARSHI LAVKAR YA”.
This festival is enjoyed by people of all ages. People visit each others’ houses to have ‘Darshan’ of (to worship) Lord Ganpati in their house. Family gatherings, meetings with people make this festival truly a cultural and social affair. The deeply religious fervour that marks this occasion is worth visiting Pune for.

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The above photo courtesy of Lend Lease Australia

Matilda blinked at the emptiness of the house as the last boxes were taken out and loaded onto a moving van. Somehow the emptiness didn’t look right and she was immediately apprehensive! Had she made the right decision to get rid of it all? Her mind’s eye placed every one of those now boxed up items back in its place just as they were when Jim was here. Each one had a special memory. Some had been purchased new over the years, some were hand me downs as members of the family passed on, and some had been made by Jim’s own hands.

One thing they all had in common was they were well used and showed the marks of age. She’d never see them again, but they were all precious in their time she mused. Reluctantly she turned away from the scene and her eyes strained in the bright sunlight as she searched for the red car that would announce her son Tom had arrived. Fear suddenly gripped her! What if Tom didn’t come? What if she had to face this move alone?

If only Jim were here! He’d been her rock during their life together. It seemed such a short time since they’d first met and he’d swept her off her feet so effortlessly. Her heart rate increased as she remembered walking with him down by the river in the little village of Burtonsville. There he’d drawn her to him and planted that first nervous kiss on her forehead. She knew they’d be soul mates forever and the thought he’d not always be with her was far from her mind as she responded eagerly.

Their months of courting had been a bitter sweet experience. Bitter because jobs were scarce and Jim had to be away from the village often for weeks at a time, sweet because his appearances with a smile and a gift at the end of his weeks away would instantly wipe away her resentment that life was treating them so cruelly.

Matilda’s parents were initially not enthusiastic about their match, but as they observed Jim’s sober ways, hard work and obvious delight in their daughter they warmed to his visits and finally gave him their permission to marry their precious Matilda. That was seventy years ago and Matilda had been only sixteen at the time and Jim nineteen. Matilda’s parents never regretted their decision.

Tom sat in his red car in front of the moving van. He’d deliberately chosen this spot as he tried to compose himself before facing his mother Matilda. He remembered how warm and inviting his home life had been during teenage years.

Jim and Matilda had made their four children their major focus in life and dedicated their time and limited means to provide a nurturing environment to them all. Each of them had blossomed in that home. The three younger sisters had married well and were scattered around the country with their families far from their original home. They frequently phoned Matilda, but were alarmed as they perceived Matilda was not coping well any more. Tom and his three sisters had a family meeting about the situation.

Tom was the black sheep of the family. He’d inherited Jim’s work ethic early and been successful in academic pursuits and business. But he’d messed up terribly in his marital relationship and was now alone, the trauma of that break up had affected his work and he now lived in a one bedroom apartment in the city with little money and large alimony payments to his ex-wife and family. For a while he’d taken to drinking and it was only when Matilda took him in hand he’d successfully re-invented himself, got a good job and faced up to his responsibilities.

This was the cause of his misery now. He’d love to have taken Matilda into his home and cared for her now she couldn’t fend for herself, but without help he’d not be able to carry on with his present job responsibilities. It had been a struggle, but eventually he had to suggest to his Mother a retirement facility would be the only choice for the help she now needed. The sale of her home would finance her accommodation and treatment.
He dried his eyes, put on a cheerful face and went to fetch Matilda for that long journey to the retirement facility close to where he lived. At least he could visit her regularly there.

Matilda shed a tear as she took Tom’s arm and slowly turned to take a last look at the family home. Would her memories disappear as the home faded from sight? She indulged a slight resentment at the fact Jim had left her alone, but it was only a fleeting moment. Jim had been so loving and kind and would never have left her alone if sickness hadn’t intervened.

She remembered that fateful morning when she awoke and turned to look at her Jim. He’d not been well, but still had that trade mark smile on his face even in sleep, but as she took his hand she knew this was not sleep. For the next hour she sat by the bed in her pyjamas watching him, expecting he’d open his eyes and look at her with that same tender love and mischievous twinkle he had when teasing her. Then she realized she’d never see that look again and with a loud wail of grief headed for the phone to break the sad news. Events to follow were mired in her fog of grief!

Matilda held onto Tom’s arm as they made that journey to the retirement home. She needed to feel the security of his touch. She barely acknowledged Tom’s apartment as he stopped to pick up papers to be handed in at the retirement home. This was the place she’d spent many weeks helping Tom with his rehabilitation. It had been cramped and uncomfortable for this old person but it was her son and she needed to be there for him. She waited in a daze as realization set in she’d have to make a new life in a strange place among strangers.

Both Matilda and Tom were surprised as they headed for the reception desk. A friendly nurse took Matilda by the arm and chatted to her as Tom gave the necessary papers to the receptionist. Soon the one in charge came out to personally welcome Matilda and assure Tom she’d be well cared for.
They toured the facility together and were eagerly welcomed by those they met in the hallways and lounge rooms. Tom could see that social interaction with people Matilda’s age who were mentally alert was the kind of therapy Matilda needed to slowly rehabilitate her from her time of grief. Jim would always be in her thoughts, but there were enough planned distractions to give her a reason to live again. Tom determined to make frequent visits to see his mother settled in and happy.

It was an added bonus the day after Matilda’s arrival to have Tom’s estranged wife and children visit their grandmother. Matilda hoped healing could come to her son’s family and that gave her added reason to live to see this take place.

“© Copyright Ian Grice 2013 All rights reserved”

Ashok.

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The above image is copyrighted to wordfight.in

Ashok gazed in wonder at the train as it clunked its way into the station. He’d heard reports of the rail gari in his village and seen it from time to time far up the mountain.
Now and then ex-villagers would return to his isolated village Kawargaon, their native place. It was neatly tucked into the beginning slopes of the ghats in magnificent isolation. These returnees loved to share stories of an outside world and strut around village streets like royalty while urchins fell in line behind gawking and chattering excitedly.
On a clear day one could see the moving carriages of the rail gari far in the distance as they darted between tunnels coming and going from the Deccan Plateau. The sun shone on carriage windows momentarily as the sun was sinking. The devout in the village would face their departing sun god in the west murmuring, “Ram, Ram-Ram!” But Ashok’s eyes were always glued to the mountain above each evening and the shining windows.

Most villagers worked for the owners of vast land holdings surrounding Kawargaon village as far as the eye could see. When the monsoon was favourable there was work for all in preparation and harvesting of crops, at which time the whole family worked for their survival. Education was an intermittent thing for Ashok!
But when the monsoon failed most of the men left Kawargaon to ride the rail gari into Mumbai where they lived on the streets and did coolie work for a pittance. Occasionally they’d send money back to their families but in many cases they’d lose their money in gambling dens at night hoping against hope Laxmi would favour them with a win so they could return to their village as heroes.
The drought had been in effect for two years now. Ashok’s mother Shanta returned from the merchant’s village stall one evening without rice and soon Shanta and Ashok’s father Dinker were in whispered conversation. It appeared the money lender refused to give them any more credit.
The money lender had offered Shanta “work,” and that was being discussed now. Dinker’s temper flared, and he began beating Shanta unmercifully until, barely able to crawl, Shanta crept to the Money Lender and accepted her future lot. In spite of her hard life Shanta was still a village beauty and the Money Lender had been considering his offer for some time. He watched her approach with mounting pleasure and silently ushered her into the protection of his home while his wife watched in silent reproach.

Dinker went into his mud hut and packed a few clothes into a cloth which when the four corners were tied together became his luggage. He glared at Ashok and strode down the long dusty road around dried paddy fields, pausing long enough to shout curses at Ashok who followed at a safe distance behind.
They walked silently for what seemed like hours until, at last, a village with stone houses and shops came into view. Ashok’s mouth hung open in surprise as they walked through neat tar sealed streets with clusters of bicycles, auto rickshaws, bullock carts and cars fighting for space as they moved to and from mountain roads above honking and shouting as they went. Sacred cows walked from street stall to stall sampling fruit and vegetables. Ashok’s mouth watered as he watched the cart wallah’s salaam cows as they helped themselves. He wondered if they’d be equally kind to him, but when he put out his hand in anticipation he was quickly slapped and ordered away.
By way of comparison with Dinker and Ashok the people of this village looked clean and prosperous and the street cart wallahs looked well fed and alert for business.
But the real eye opener for Ashok was his first encounter with the rail gari he’d only seen from a great distance before. It had arms which reached above to grip wires in the sky. Ashok looked toward the mountain, and then the opposite direction and it seemed there was no end to those wires in sight.
The rail gari was huge and a milling crowd on the station stretched to the end of a raised platform where enterprising urchins rushed around shouting, “garam chai, tanda pani,” splashing their wares as they ran. Ashok realized he was thirsty as he watched the milling crowd mingling, talking, eating and drinking. It seemed they’d no trouble finding rupees to satisfy their every need. He wanted what they had and turned to see what Dinker would do next. But Dinker was gone.
It was then a whistle blew and within seconds the crowded station emptied into the carriages of the rail gari leaving only enterprising urchins behind to await the next scheduled stop. Ashok found a place where there were few people entering, but they pushed him out and he rushed to enter one of the crowded carriages where no one seemed to mind. Hungry and thirsty he may have been but there was excitement in the air and for the first time in his life he felt grown up and ready for an unknown future.
As the rail gari lurched along its tracks Ashok didn’t think about where they were going, or what he would do when they arrived. He was not even concerned about Dinker’s disappearance.

After some time he became aware a tall man with a turban was watching him. Ashok smiled nervously and the man came and stood by his side. From their conversation the tall man understood Ashok was a village boy who’d no idea of what was ahead and no plans for a future. In soothing tones he opened the boy’s mind to a future where he too would handle all the money he had witnessed others using and Ashok’s initial suspicions evaporated as he spoke. He pictured himself returning to Kawargaon with money and respect. The village urchins would follow him then.
At each station on the way the carriage became more densely crowded until there was no more standing room, Ashok watched in wonder as men clambered onto the roof and others hung onto the bars on the outside of windows. He glanced at the man with a turban who sensing Ashok’s apprehension put his hand on Ashok’s shoulder reassuringly. It was the first time Ashok had experienced a human touch that wasn’t a blow to the body and he began to relax.
They passed station after station, and at each one, those wishing to board the rail gari became increasingly belligerent and fights were common. But they eventually reached the end of their journey. When roof and windows cleared as people leaped onto the platform Ashok gasped in surprise. Red shirt coolies seemed to be everywhere snatching people’s baggage and fighting with each other for the privilege of carrying away luggage on their heads for a quickly negotiated fee. The man with the turban steered Ashok through this unfamiliar scene and they were just approaching a street entrance when Dinker appeared in front of them.
“What are you doing with that boy?” Dinker was standing threateningly in front of the man with a turban.
“Who are you?” The man with the turban calmly replied.
“I’m Dinker, his father!” Dinker spat red betel juice onto the floor in front of the man with the turban.
The man with the turban calmly took Dinker aside and reached down into his doti. He produced a wad of rupee bills and offered it to Dinker. Dinker’s eyes opened wide, he’d never seen so much money in his life! He pocketed the rupees, glanced at Ashok guiltily and then melted into the crowd.
The man returned and steered Ashok into an auto rickshaw and very soon they were inside a high walled compound. Ashok looked around him in alarm! Scattered around him in various shelters were dozens of mutilated boys and girls. Those not on shifts out on the streets of Mumbai begging were resting or eating. They looked at Ashok with the eyes of those who’d nothing to hope for, but at least they had food and a place to rest safely he thought.
The man with a turban motioned to two rough fellows guarding the gates. One ran over, grabbed Ashok and pushed him into the dark bungalow.
“© Copyright Ian Grice 2013 All rights reserved”

Note: Hindi sounds from which I’ve attempted to express words in English spelling is better expressed in that script and may be spelt in English differently by others but hopefully this will give you some indication of the sounds that make up those words.
Rail gari – train
The village Kawargaon – crow village
Native place – place of birth
Ghats – mountains
Laxmi – the goddess of wealth
Garam chai – hot tea
Tanda pani – cold water
Doti – A lower garment worn by men

Deshi Harry

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The above image belongs to itspak.wordpress.com

Harry plucked the boiled eggs from a steaming kettle and placed them under the cold tap. “This helps separate the shell from the inside with ease,” he said with great authority as he removed the shell deftly and handed it over to place on what was meant to be my breakfast toast. I gazed at my breakfast despairingly and made a note to visit the Karachi “Seven Day Coffee House” just down the road for a little more nourishment after bidding Harry farewell for the day. I had auditing appointments in Karachi, Lahore and Faroukabad before moving on to New Delhi and as Harry was familiar with the area he’d offered to meet me in Karachi on this my first trip.

Well Harry was not his real name but to protect his privacy we’ll call him by that name. We were in Karachi and this was my first opportunity to really get to know Harry. He was one of those mission brat kids whose American parents had wandered the Punjab from their base in Lahore before British India was divided between India and Pakistan.

Harry had grown up in the Punjab and explored every inch of Lahore with his local friends. From them he’d learned the art of survival in the sub-continent and was fluent in Punjabi and Urdu. Apart from his white skin and blue eyes his language and mannerisms were so perfect locals instantly warmed to him and he could move in circles no foreigner would normally be permitted to enter. Seeing him in action one was reminded of Rudyard Kipling’s “Kim.”

Harry could switch effortlessly between languages without a trace of an accent, and this was unnerving if you were working in a room and another voice suddenly materialized without evidence of anyone walking in.

But of course light skin and blue eyes was not an unknown thing to the natives of the sub-continent. Alexander the Great had found his way to the Indus Valley at the height of his conquests and some of his soldiers had been smitten by beautiful local maidens and remained behind when the army drew back to their homelands. To this day up in hill country to the north of India and Pakistan tribal countrymen and women with light skin and blue eyes remain to vouch for Alexander’s visit.

I later heard stories from some of Harry’s Punjabi friends, told with obvious affection and without malice. It appears in his youth he happened on a crowd gathered around a post office window. I’m not sure if you can visualize this, but most government offices in the villages of the sub-continent sport small windows with strong iron bars around which crowds gather in a disorganized way with dozens of hands protruding through bars while urgent voices clamor for attention. Those in authority always find their way through the maize inside the building and do business through the back door, but for the population in general that small barred window is their only means of getting business done.

Harry surveyed the disorganized gesticulating crowd, strode back several paces and took a flying leap into the crowd scattering those in his path in all directions. Naturally this created intense angst. No foreigner should be permitted such sacrilege. Foreigners meant colonialism, and Gandhi was already working sentiments toward freedom with his “Quit India” movement. Under normal circumstances Harry would have been beaten to death for this provocation, and that would be understood in the context of the times.

But in a loud clear voice Harry said in flawless Punjabi, “Why are you so angry with me? I was born here and everything I’ve learned was from Punjabis! I have a suggestion. If everyone will form a line I’ll get on the end of the line and we’ll be attended much sooner.”

The crowd’s anger dissipated and they roared with laughter. Slapping Harry on the back they formed a line and Harry took his place at the end. Those relating the story to me roared with laughter themselves as they told the story. He was one of them.

I’d watched Harry in action with locals the evening before. Squatting on the floor with legs crossed in his grey khurta and pajama pants, the national dress, he gave darshan to those squatting in a semi-circle around him. Now and then he’d slip into English to give me some idea of the conversation. The solidarity of the group was apparent.

But the classic of all stories about Harry was one he told himself. Apparently he was on a train from Lahore to Karachi, squatting cross legged on his seat dressed in his favorite clothing, grey khurta and pajama pants. An army officer entered and took his place opposite, placing luggage on the rack above as he greeted Harry warily. One must be careful when dealing with strangers, but it’s natural for those from Southern Asia to draw out details of their traveling companions.

A typical conversation goes something like this. “What is your good name? What salary do you have? What is your native place? How many wives and sons do you have?” I hasten to say this is considered to be polite conversation and an attempt to establish rapport for the usual long train journey. People from the sub-continent are sociable friendly people, though the uninitiated westerner may misunderstand this approach when confronted with this barrage of questions for the first time.

Well Harry answered all these questions in flawless Urdu, all the time studying the army officer’s face. He detected puzzlement and could easily guess the man’s dilemma. Here was what looked to be a very tall foreigner squatting cross legged on the seat in national dress speaking flawless Urdu, and he said his home was in Lahore? Furthermore at more than six feet tall he towered above the average Pakistani.

After some time Harry casually remarked in Urdu, “Do you know some people mistake me for a foreigner.”

The army officer looked embarrassed as he realized Harry had guessed his inner thoughts. “I’d never have thought that,” the officer quickly said.

I looked at Harry when he finished telling me his story. He was smiling contentedly as he reflected on how well he’d accommodated to the country he’d been born and now lived in. He was a loyal citizen of the country of his parent’s origin, but a citizen and friend of the world as well and counted all as his brothers and sisters.

“© Copyright Ian Grice 2013 All rights reserved”

1 Deshi means country of birth in loose translation
2.Khurta is the long shirt worn over cotton pants referred to as pajama
3. Darshan. Actually this refers to insight given by guru to chela (pupil) and is used lightly in my usage here.

2006 Mt St Helens WA 2

It was June 1 2006, we’d arrived in Portland, Oregon and whisked across the border to Vancouver, Washington where we were to attend an important birthday bash of one of our closest friends. I’ve been instructed not to mention the actual age of this close friend so we’ll leave it at that.

As there was to be a day between our arrival and the grand event our friends suggested we spend that day on tour, and were there bright and early next morning to lead us gently to the minivan as we fought jet lag and tried to appear awake and personable for the journey.

Naturally we were curious as to what we would be seeing that day. Both were uncharacteristically silent on this issue and we didn’t have the energy to pursue the matter. It was only when we noted the road sign that said “Mt St Helens” our adrenalin kicked in and we were suddenly wide awake.
In 1980 we purchased a Plymouth hatchback In Massachusetts and embarked on a two month tour around the USA. We covered 34 states and saw all the touristy things with the added bonus of a tornado in Kalamazoo, being snowed in at Yellowstone Park, enjoying an earthquake in Bakersfield and of current interest the 1980 eruption of Mt St Helens.

We’d stopped over with friends worked with in India who were pursuing PhD studies at that time, and they urged us to do two things. First visit Mt St Helens, and second stay an extra day with them. We stayed the extra day with Vi and Ralph, and that’s when the mountain blew. What would have happened if we’d proceeded to the mountain the day before, as originally planned? Probably we’d have been part of the dust raining across North America and beyond that fateful day.

Our next stop on that occasion was to be Walla Walla, Washington, home to the Walla Walla sweet onion, and I can remember having to go due south and circle around to that rural and educational community to avoid thick ash fall. Ash was falling like snow and it cost us a small fortune to clean the engine and its appendages after emerging from that experience. We were still washing ash sediment out of the bodywork a month later when we sold the car in Washington DC.

That experience had given us a continuing interest in Mt St Helens, and we noted news bulletins indicating the mountain was currently giving a grumble or two. Now we were heading for Mt St Helens! My friend Els gave a benign smile as he saw me reading the sign and assured me he’d not wanted to frighten us by telling where we were headed that day. Oh thanks!

Well the fact that I am writing this shows the mountain behaved respectfully that day, and after 26 years we’d finally made it to the mountain. The Tourist Facility there had a lot of very interesting information on the volcano, and some spectacular movies of the actual eruption that killed many people and animals, and flattened the countryside to an incredible distance. The river banked up behind walls of uprooted trees and rocks until it finally broke loose.

Visit Mt St Helens, it‘s worth the trip. Consult your family volcanologist before going just to be sure the mountain will receive you as graciously as it did us in June 2006.

“© Copyright Ian Grice 2013 All rights reserved”

a_aaa-Angry-students

The above image belongs to http://www.jokeroo.com/pictures/funny/angry-students-2.html

It had been a terrible week for all of us. Our usually tranquil campus had become a seething mass of angry students who were either trying to force administration into liberalizing programs, or desperately trying to protect themselves from militants. The College President was under siege and calmly trying to ride out this storm, while faculty debated ways and means to reach into minds of the militant students and understand what their problem really was, and what dangers the College would face in conceding to any of their demands.

Our cafeteria had been occupied for several days, and even sensible students were enjoying a sudden increase in meal servings. Militants elected a complete student ‘faculty’ from among their group, while their representative student police patrolled the campus in appropriated college and teacher vehicles. The atmosphere in both men’s and women’s residences was electric. Foreign students had left belongings behind and with their passports taken up temporary residence in town. All students carried knives and clubs for their own protection in case militants targeted them. Once in a while militant students would go on an orgy of destruction, and rumors of arson against faculty homes rippled around the campus.

The real police riot squads camped outside campus in force, waiting for permission from the College President to enter college grounds and deal with dissidents. They had a formidable store of weapons which would have settled matters quickly, but the President hesitated in giving his permission, realizing the majority getting injured in a police charge would likely be innocent bystanders. He sought every means at his disposal to broker a settlement before resorting to police intervention.

We suffered collective shame, both sensible students and faculty of the college. The former were ashamed because they lacked courage to deal with militants; the latter because they felt they’d missed an opportunity to demonstrate acceptable social responsibilities in their teaching assignments.

Then it happened! A single student; we will call him Avinash to protect his privacy; stood in a prominent place on campus and loudly appealed to reason calling for an end to the present insanity. Militant students rushed him from all sides. They beat Avinash with their fists and kicked his prostrate body until he lost consciousness. He was taken from their mad orgy with extreme difficulty, to be rushed to hospital by a nurse braver than the rest of us.

The shock of this climactic violence brought the strike to a halt. Militants were angrily advised to move off campus under peer pressure and with a wary eye on the police convey outside campus they crept away in the night. Students remaining started to pick up the pieces and made peace with the administration.

Resolution to a very serious situation was made possible by one brave student who dared to stand up for reason in spite of consequences he knew he’d suffer. He was rewarded liberally by a grateful administration.

“© Copyright Ian Grice 2013 All rights reserved”

CH1Andrew  Andrew Kazy

Chapter 1 – Early Years

CH1 Lugoj Romania

Andrew was born in the nation of Transylvania to parents Andras Kazy and Magdaline Husczic. Since the Magyars (Hungarians) swept into Europe in 896 CE this had been considered Hungarian land and the territories of Transylvania were formally attached and remained with Hungary between the eleventh and sixteenth centuries, until a Turkish invasion incorporated most of the territory into the Ottoman Empire. Pangs of nationalism burned within all Hungarians under foreign rule and Andras Kazy of an ancient ruling class determined his son would never forget their proud heritage.

Andrew’s birth location, now in Romania, was a border province which changed rulers over several European wars. Andras died at 86, far beyond the average life expectancy of those times never seeing a return to separate nationhood he’d longed for. He’d been a hard person in his lifetime but Andrew remembers his Mother differently, she was respected by the community as a kind lady. Andras worked in the wool industry as a foreman, but when Hungary was threatened by war he joined the National Guard rising to the status of sergeant major. Andrew also remembers his Grandfather as a stern man who died in 1926 when Andrew was twelve.

His Grandfather had a religious bent in spite of his tough exterior and told his grandson stories from the Bible whenever he’d visit. At the age of 5 on one of those visits Grandfather placed Andrew on a pony and told him to ride like a man, giving the pony a slap to send him off at a gallop. When Andrew fell off he was spanked. Grandfather Kazy wanted him to grow up to be a tough Hussar, the vision all Hungarians had for their sons. Their great Magyar ancestors had been horsemen and all Hungarian sons should be raised to have those skills he said.

Grandfather Kazy was a landowner and supervised the working of his own land. His ancestors came from noble stock. A Kazy family had been court officials in the 1700s during the period of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. But in April 1848 Hungary revolted against the Habsburg dynasty and once again Transylvania and Hungary became one country. Two years after Andrew’s birth the Romanians army invaded and in the general confusion of those years of war Transylvania became part of Romania.

Romanians had always formed a peasant majority of Transylvania’s population who resented their ruling Austro-Hungarian rulers, so in Romanian eyes the territory was rightfully theirs. This take over by the Romanians commenced a long drawn out insurgency as proud Magyars fought once more to regain control. Perhaps the pony episode was Grandfather Kazy’s effort to toughen his grandson for what he realized would be a fight to restore Magyars as the ruling class in Transylvania.

Chapter 2 – Transylvania

CH2 Andrews Mother FatherAndrew’s Parents

Andrew’s parents insisted on him joining an organization similar to the Boy Scouts in his adolescent years. This organization was primarily to toughen Hungarian youth and instill in them nationalistic spirit. Andrew recalls a hike of 1,200 km over back tracks and mountains under supervision of adults who showed no mercy to those who fell behind.

At the time of Andrew’s birth in 1914 Transylvania had been part of the Austro- Hungarian Empire which included Czechoslovakia and parts of Yugoslavia at that time. However Austria had expansionist ambitions and it was supported in these ambitions by Germany.

In 1916 Romania declared war and claimed Transylvania. By 1918 The Austro- Hungarian Empire was collapsing and most of Transylvania with its majority population of Romanians became an integral part of Romania.

Hungary declared its own independence on October 17 and began supporting the former Transylvania ruling class smarting from their loss of privileges. They gave support to an insurgency of which Andrew was by now an active member.

Under pressure from Hitler, portion of Transylvania was returned to Hungarian control for a brief period. Hitler became very popular with Hungarians for that reason and the country slowly slipped under German dominance. Surprisingly Romania did the same. Andrew prided himself as a Hungarian nationalist and longed for his birthplace to be reunited with Hungary.

The nationalist hopes of Andras and Magdaline, Andrew’s parents, were centered round their son’s activities. His Mother had delivered three children but two brothers had died in infancy. They looked to Andrew to carry on the family name and interests.

Andrew met his wife Elizabeth Wallisch in Lugos, now Lugoj in Romania. He’d just completed army service and was looking for work. A friend called him to work in a small village as painter and sculptor servicing local churches. This had been his training and he decided to make it his trade.

He took lodging in a boarding house owned by Francisca Wallisch, nee Steuhrer. Francisca was German. Prior to this visit Andrew had dreamed of a girl who he was impressed would be his wife some day. At the boarding house with this family he recognized one of Francisca’s daughters as the girl of his dreams and determined to make her his wife.

After the customary courtship he introduced her to his parents, and the couple married November 1938. Soon after marriage Andrew was again called to arms. His first daughter Maria was born in 1939 while he was in service. Transylvania continued to be an area of contention between Romania and Hungary, so Andrew once again found himself involved in the struggle. His activities were reported to Romanian authorities and he was placed on the wanted list.

Andrew fled his revolutionary friends to return home. But authorities were waiting at his home to arrest him, and he was warned by friends not to go there. Elizabeth and child Maria were disguised, and spirited away to join with him as the family fled from authorities keeping watch over their home.

They fled to Solonka, now in Ukraine, were they hoped Romanian police wouldn’t be able to arrest him. The people of the town didn’t want to take in refugees but a Jewish family, themselves under threat, took pity on them and gave them brief shelter.

One night Romanian troops were retreating from an area recently ceded in one of the frequent European boundary changes. In their anger at what they considered to be an unfair treaty they’d shoot at any home with a light in it as their train passed by. Andrew opened the door to answer what sounded like a knock just as a troop train passed by and a hail of bullets splintered windows and the door of the house, but Andrew was unhurt. Once again he had escaped death. He and his family with other refugees were transported further into Hungary’s traditional heartland. There they found temporary refuge.

Chapter 3 – Hungary

CH3 Szekesfehervar Hungary  Szekesfehervar Hungary

While he was now settled in the Hungarian heartland stress of continual running to preserve his life, and worry about the well being of his wife and children finally had an impact on his health. The second child Gyargyike (Georgine) had arrived September 1942 while they were living in Szekesfehervar Hungary and it was then Andrew was diagnosed with heart and lung problems so severe he wasn’t expected to live. He was desperate! What would happen to his family? He turned to religion as a last resort and began to read books on natural healing and good health practices. He began to actively follow what he’d learned.

Several months after commencing his new lifestyle Andrew visited with his doctor for a routine check on his acute medical problems, but the doctor couldn’t find any further evidence of a medical condition. The Doctor was amazed but requested him to come back in 6 months just to make sure he’d been permanently healed. Mysteriously the medical conditions never returned.

Germany up to this time an ally of Hungary now occupied the country to the surprise of the Hungarians. The Germans wanted this part of Europe as a staging point for their march into Russia. Szekesfehervar later became a battleground as German and Russian troops fought for control over Hungary

Toward the end of World War II when Russians were in control of Szekesfehervar they came looking for Andrew. He’d been working for the highways department at that time and Hungarian authorities had decided to bury important documents and treasures to keep them out of the hands of their enemies. Andrew had been assigned to bury the weather proofed chests in which these documents and treasures were packed, and so had knowledge of where these important treasures were buried.

The Russians came to know this and wanted to know what had been buried. They questioned him until night, then left with the warning he should remain at home because they’d be back for him next morning. Friends spirited the family away that evening to protect their lives, and that same night the Russians were pushed back from the city by the German army.

Then the German SS came and arrested Andrew as a suspected Jewish escapee from one of the death camps. One of their friends under torture claimed Andrew was a Jew escaped from a German internment camp and they believed that story. Probably the friend had heard the story of the Jewish family who’d helped them escape from Romanian authorities and used that to divert the German SS and thus hopefully preserve his own life.

The family was taken into German custody. They were assigned under guard to a farm house in the evening and transported by truck with other prisoners next morning. They were to be taken to Germany and interned. After traveling all day they were told to unpack their few belongings and wait for further transport to arrive. Elizabeth and the two children were offered rest and food by kind peasants that evening. The peasant woman had been expecting family members from the war front so she’d prepared food for her family who didn’t show up as planned. The guards became friendly with Elizabeth as they discovered she was of German ancestry. They needed her to translate from German to the dialect of the local population and obtain food for them all as they traveled.

The plan was for prisoners to be picked up at an army base and transported into Germany, but a bad storm hit the area. Soldiers and prisoners struggled through the storm and eventually reached the Austrian border. As the war was going badly for Germany by this time, their captors received orders to return for defense of the German Motherland and abandoned prisoners at the border.

Elizabeth was pregnant with her third child and was in urgent need of medical attention. Some refugees had been waiting at the border to get across for 6 months and many had died there of starvation. But rearguard German army personnel took pity on Elizabeth because of her German ancestry and helped the family to get papers authorizing them to cross the border into Austria where Elizabeth’s Mother had fled and was now running her business.

This border town was not on the regular stop from Budapest to Vienna, but German soldiers arranged for the train to stop. Andrew traded some family belongings for Austrian money. To the stationmasters surprise the train did make an unscheduled stop, and the family was permitted on board. Gyargyike was crying from hunger, and those on board the train pitied their situation and shared what they had with the family.

Chapter 4 – Germany

CH4 Aschbach Germany  Aschbach Germany

Andrew with his family arrived at Vienna rail terminus next morning before sunrise. An air raid was in progress on their arrival and lights had been extinguished. The family was very frightened, for railway stations were allied forces prime air raid targets. The Allies were disrupting German army desperate attempts to return to the defense of the Motherland and railways, roads and bridges were being demolished. The family feared after so many miraculous escapes their luck had at last run out.

While they were standing on the station platform undecided on which direction they should run for shelter a man with a torch suddenly appeared and motioned for them to follow him. Struggling through the gates of the station with their only worldly possessions they attempted to keep up with the dim light ahead. The torch motioned them into a doorway and they descended stairs carefully in the darkness to join hundreds of sweating frightened people hiding in the air raid shelter.

After the raid finished they followed weary Viennese up the stairs to the dim light of the new day above. Smoke and dust penetrated deep into their lungs as they looked about for someone to ask directions. Their problem was compounded by the fact they couldn’t give people a destination location as they’d no idea where Elizabeth’s Mother now lived and conducted business in Vienna. They’d never visited that city before. Elizabeth’s German language skills were now of great importance. She eventually located police and with their assistance located Francisca Wallisch’s home location. The family could rest at last.

Elizabeth had been experiencing pains for some days and went into labor soon after arrival at her Mother’s house. She was rushed to hospital. The hospital examined her and sped her to the delivery room where Barbara, their third child was quickly born. Andrew had little money with him, not enough to pay the hospital bill for 6 days hospital care. As Francisca and her family were also refugees and only recently established in Vienna they could offer little financial help.

Andrew did have some Hungarian money which the hospital wouldn’t accept. They’d no idea how they’d settle with the hospital for Elizabeth’s care. Once again a seeming miracle awaited them. A patient waiting for treatment heard the dialogue taking place at the hospital business counter and offered to pay the bill. At every impossible situation in their flight someone had appeared to offer them timely assistance. This was another of those occasions.

After Andrew and Elizabeth left hospital to return to Francisca’s home with their newly born they learned the Russian army was rapidly advancing, and it looked like they’d soon take Vienna. Andrew remembered how he’d fled from the Russian officers who’d visited his home in Szekeshervar and demanded location details of the Hungarian nations buried secrets. Andrew was frightened, and as his relatives knew they’d also suffer by association they urged the family to move to Germany while there was still time, and where some of Elizabeth’s relatives lived.

With financial help from Francisca they were placed on board a train to Bamberg in Germany where these relatives lived. They expected the American army would occupy that part of Germany when fighting ceased and they would be safe there. However the city they were heading for on their first stopover was bombed, and they had to go down to the Swiss border and zig zag around Germany as lines were repaired after constant bombing before they could reach their final destination Bamberg.

Andrew had only a little Austrian money received from his Mother in Law Francisca, but was fortunate to finally exchange Hungarian for German currency. The family arrived in Bamberg at the time of another bombing raid. Relatives directed them to a village called Aschbach, 35 km from Bamberg where they would be relatively safe from harm and where Elizabeth could recover from the recent birth and stress of being on the run under life threatening conditions during her pregnancy.

However villagers were trying to defend their own limited resources, run down during a long drawn out war. They didn’t want refugees adding to their burdens and tried every way possible to force the family to go back to Hungary. Just as the family was feeling the wrath of the village American troops arrived and occupied Aschbach. The officer in charge was a Hungarian American, and he helped Andrew sort things out with the Village Headman. But as soon as American troops moved on villagers began to pressure the family again. They somehow survived with the help of the Baron who employed Andrew to produce fine art pieces for his castle. Andrew realized his family had no future in Aschbach, and as it was impossible to return to Hungary now under Russian domination his options were limited.

In 1949 Andrew Kazy and his family were registered as refugees and given a choice of two countries to migrate to. Their first choice was US as they’d been impressed by the kindness of American troops now occupying Germany. His second preference was Australia, a country of which he knew little, but about which he’d heard encouraging reports.

Andrew filled in applications to enter the US but for some reason papers were mislaid. The family had also filed papers for entry into Australia. When called for interview by Australian immigration officials they witnessed the distress of people whose applications had been rejected and they became fearful their application would receive similar treatment. However when they went for interview the interviewer received them kindly. He was sympathetic after listening to their story and promised Andrew a good life in Australia as trade qualifications like the ones Andrew held were in short supply at the end of the war. However when the family eventually arrived in Australia things were not quite what Andrew had been led to expect.

Chapter 5 – Farewell to Europe

GG 1940 Kazy Family  Andrew with family 1949

The day Andrew and his family left Aschbach was a day of joy and hope. Safely in their possession now were important documents entitling them to free transport and entry into their new home, Australia. Now that they were leaving neighbors in the village were friendly and wished them well on their journey. There’d be less families competing for limited resources in this war ravaged country now.

Their train took them through the Swiss Alps to Naples Italy where they were to board a ship destined for Australia. Andrew burst into a joyful Hungarian hymn as they passed through beautiful scenery and the family joined him in singing. The horrors of flight from their native land were swept away as they anticipated a bright future and prosperity at last.

But they’d temporarily forgotten they were refugees, and Italy too had suffered greatly from the Great War. On arrival in Naples they were surprised to find themselves locked into a barbwire encircled camp with hundreds of other refugees. Italians were fearful of being swamped with refugees from other parts of a Europe which had been leveled in allied bombing and where work opportunities were few. They wanted to be sure these refugees moved on.

Refugees bound for Australia were assigned to an old troop ship. On board were 1,500 men, women and children. Families were unable to stay together because of the way the ship’s accommodation was arranged and Andrew found himself billeted with the men while Elizabeth and the children found themselves space in the women’s section of the ship. Their brief excitement evaporated with each day’s experience in these crowded conditions. They found comfort in their meetings each day and watched with interest the kaleidoscope of cultures begin to unfold on their journey.

As they passed through Suez Canal and entered the Red Sea the children’s excitement grew. Andrew had told them the Red Sea was where the Israelite Nation had escaped from Egypt long ago, and Pharaoh’s army had perished in the sea as they gave chase. One of the children almost fell overboard climbing on the rail guards to try and see Pharaoh’s army on the bottom of the ocean, but fortunately an alert onlooker was there to rescue the child.

Andrew recalls violent storms as they made their way into the ocean to the south, and their ship breaking down en route to Australia. Eventually the ship was fixed by an Austrian refugee engineer, but stormy conditions continued until they were close to Australia’s shores. During those long weeks adult refugees were too seasick to visit the dining hall on a regular basis, and children unaffected by sickness were often the majority in the dining room. The children were particularly excited to find jars of peanut butter set out on each table not having seen that product before, and went from table to table sampling this new delicacy.

The original plan was for all to disembark in the city of Perth, Western Australia, but for reasons that were never divulged they were diverted to Adelaide, South Australia for processing.

Officials were present at the docks in Port Adelaide to meet and help settle the new arrivals in a temporary camp while their documents were processed and work assigned. Each family member had responsibility for a portion of their meager belongings and Gyargyike was handed the family’s important documents to carry from the ship. On the swaying walkway from ship to dock she lost balance and documents fell into the ocean. Andrew and Elizabeth cried out in alarm. Would this mean they’d not be permitted to land?

Chapter 6 – Australia

CH6 adelaide australia Adelaide Australia

The sailor helping passengers disembark from the ship saw those important documents fall from the hands of the little seven year old as she sought to steady herself on the shaking walkway, Glancing at the parents he saw the look of horror and desperation written on their faces. Without further thought he plunged overboard to retrieve the floating documents before they were swept under the dock by wave action. There was a general commotion as everybody stopped to watch this event and sighs of relief as documents were recovered and the sailor pulled from the water. The documents were wet, but were still readable and eventually cleared for disembarkation’

Andrew and his family looked out the window of their bus as they were transported to the holding camp for processing as immigrants. Adelaide was so different to Europe in 1949. The city was laid out in grand style with large parks separating city and suburbs, but where were the people? There were so few of them in such a large area of land, so unlike Europe with its teeming dispirited population and villages which had the imprint of thousands of years habitation. All of a sudden they felt alone in a strange land.

The language barrier reinforced their feelings of isolation. Gyargyike now renamed Georgine remembers being fearful to go to the restrooms separate from living quarters in camp because of the man laughing at her from the trees. It was much later they realized it was the Australian Kookaburra bird she’d heard and been frightened by. Once in a while they’d be visited by officials or representatives of community organizations who’d explain what was planned for them in German. Andrew had learned written English during his school days and found he could understand what was written, but none of the family had spoken English skills.

To Andrew’s surprise there was no opening for his kind of fine art work in Australia as he’d been promised. He remembered the beautiful statues he’d made for churches in Europe, the paintings and carved doors and mantle pieces he’d made for the Baron in Aschbach. A feeling of despair added to his feeling of isolation.

Andrew was assigned to work in the railway as war years had interrupted development in this young nation and the government wished to push ahead with infrastructure development now Australia’s war depleted population had been replenished by immigration. This work assignment made Andrew unhappy. Andrew was approached by a Health Food Company which offered to employ him, but the government refused to release him from his contract and wanted him to fulfill obligations with the railway. As the government had paid for the family relocation they had no other choice. The government needed a painter, but not the kind of fine arts painter Andrew was by trade.

An Australian family accommodated Andrew’s family now numbering 5 and gave them rooms in their own home while they oriented to the country, learned to fit in with a new culture and language and found a place of their own. Andrew worked for the government railway for the next 10 years. His railway overseer was surprised and happy to find Andrew could function well with written English and put him to work straight away. Authorities assigned him to work with three Australian workers and instructed them to see he developed speaking skills and not be permitted to work with other migrants he may be able to converse with in a European language. They did this so his English speaking skills would develop rapidly, but it was hard work for Andrew and he felt the humiliation of each mistake made and the laughter this caused.

But as his English comprehension grew and diligent work was appreciated Andrew was put as a leading hand by the railway, and this placed him in conflict with those working under him who felt they should have had seniority and been given the supervisory job. The striking workers were eventually forced to return to work and they eventually accepted him.

But resentments persisted and eventually Andrew left railway employment and decided to try his hand as sub-contractor to a builder. Family morale had been boosted with the addition of a fourth daughter, Angela in 1954. There was not enough money to be made in the new job for an increasing family, and the builder suggested Andrew go to Alice Springs in Central Australia, then a booming frontier town where big money drew people wanting to make quick fortunes. Andrew looked for accommodation and began to make friends there.

Prior to disconnecting from the railway Andrew’s son in law had showed him some opals from Andamooka a gem mining settlement also in Central Australia Andrew was excited because gem carving had been one of his interests in Europe. He’d spent vacation time previously with a friend in Coober Pedi, another gem mining centre before taking the Alice Springs contracting job. Andrew decided this was an opportunity to seek opals of his own so that on his eventual return to his family still settled in Adelaide he’d be able to carve gems as a hobby. He built a fine collection of stones to keep him occupied later in his retirement.

By 1962 the last of Andrew’s five daughters Judy was born and once again there was rejoicing in the family. With the family remaining in Adelaide Andrew took his next contracting assignment in Darwin in the extreme northwest of frontier Australia. However he became very sick and was hospitalized. The Doctor told him he’d have to leave his contracting job as he now had a serious illness. He finished the Darwin contract and began the long trip home to Adelaide. He was so sick by the time he reached Alice Springs that friends were reluctant to let him proceed. But Andrew was anxious to get back to Adelaide and have his further medical tests completed so his future would be clear.

On the way he almost gave up hope of arriving home alive. A semi-trailer driver gave him herbal treatments at a lonely rest stop and Andrew improved enough for him to continue his journey. He almost had a very serious accident on the way and careered off the road into loose desert sand miles from civilization. A stranger appeared who he later learned was a policeman. The policeman helped get him back on the road with the help of other travelers who’d stopped to see how they could assist. The car was found to be relatively unharmed when finally returned to the road and after a careful inspection by his benefactors Andrew was able to resume his journey home.

Arriving back in Adelaide he rested several days before going to Hospital to continue medical tests. He was admitted immediately as doctors from Darwin had already contacted specialists in Adelaide and given their report on his serious condition. Andrew was told he could no longer work and he was recommended to be placed on government pension. He did try to work again as soon as he was released from hospital, but was again hospitalized and told never to work again. He realized that his long journey was soon to be over.

Making a long distance transfer of residence to Cooranbong near Sydney Australia to the northeast where the climate was more favorable Andrew and Elizabeth spent their final days together. Andrew lived to see the last of his daughters Judy happily married before breathing his last in September 1988.

Andrew’s long journey was over at last.

This story was extracted from video taped interviews with Andrew Kazy prior to his death. While the story in essence is Andrews, I’ve taken historical events of the times from Internet and books to give the reader a feel for the times Andrew remembers. Other family members recall events which Andrew doesn’t talk about. Elizabeth and the oldest girls remember their home being destroyed by bombs before they left Hungary for Vienna. This is not mentioned in Andrew’s memoirs. Elizabeth also remembers fleeing through forests and mountains though it’s not clear which of their many flights this may have been.

In 1995 my wife Georgine and our daughter Helen, along with Georgine’s older sister Maria, her husband Tibor, their son and I went on a nostalgia trip to Aschbach, Germany Vienna Austria, and Budapest Hungary. What a thrill it was for the grandchildren to be permitted to see the fine artwork completed by Grandfather Andrew in the Baron’s castle in Aschbach.

“© Copyright Ian Grice 2013 All rights reserved”

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