Marta Marsinová

“Once in summer they were both probably tired and bored, but I still had something to do. When they didn’t talk, I could pray quietly. Once when they had already gone to their beds and a supervisor had already checked a warden, he suddenly knocked on the window while I was walking in the cell and told me: ‘Madam, you should go to bed, too.’ When a prostitute heard him, she raised herself and told me: ‘He addressed you madam.’ Then I realised she was used to addressing ‘you’ in combination with her prison number. ‘Well, he addressed you madam.’ And suddenly I found it very hard for all the people in prison to be reduced only to a number.”

“Since it was necessary to preserve industry, we were all sent to work in manufacture. But the other side of the coin that wasn’'t written in the decree was that we were sent to our hometowns to be eliminated as enemies of working class. As a result, I had to go back to Žilina and I was assigned to work in Štefan Bašťovanský’s factory producing railroad tails. When I came to a personnel manager, who was only an ordinary peasant having no idea of communism, he looked at me and said: ‘Who the hell sent you here? What shall I do with you?’ I told him: ‘And what am I to do with it? I’ve been just sent here.’ He said: ‘Go to the labour office, they will manage it.’ Therefore I had to go to the labour office and they assigned me to work in a factory producing cloth in Žilina.”

“Meanwhile, in 1958, the first inspection began. It was a huge action in the Slovak Academy of Sciences and I was subjected to careful scrutiny because of my cultural cooperation with professor Kropilák in Bystrica, who enforced inspection of me. When I was being vetted, it was a ridiculous situation, because twelve members of the Central Committee and twelve or thirteen members of the Presidium of the Slovak Academy of Sciences came to inspect me, an ordinary worker of the Academy. All in all, there were twenty-five people to scrutinise me. Professor Sirácky, presiding at the committee, was called a ‘main questioner’ by me and my colleagues back then. He asked me: ‘Ms Marsinová, since your Catholic belief is well-known, tell me, how do you want to do science in the Academy of Sciences?’ And I told him that we, the Christian realists, and you, the Marxists, shared the same opinion from perspective of theory of knowledge. They were all stunned, because they had been used to listening about grandmothers or wives wishing their children or grandchildren to go to church, etc. On the contrary, I started this academic discussion. Then they began: ‘And what would the Pope say if he heard you? What would you do if you were excommunicated?’ ‘There is no reason why I should be excommunicated, because I am telling the truth.’ Then they asked for my opinion about encyclical letters, etc. As a result, we were discussing for twenty minutes. It was ridiculous. Afterwards they let me go. Later I was told their conclusion was as follows: ‘Since she answered as we had rightly assumed, we can let her go now, because we know what we can expect from her.’”

“In fact, I didn’t want to join the Hlinka Youth, because it wasn’t what I had expected. As a result, in 1943 I joined, how to say it correctly, it was some kind of organised Catholic movement, because I read an announcement in Slovák newspapers that, I am not sure whether the Catholic Youth Association or the Headquarters of the Slovak Catholic Studentship remains of which were in Svoradov, organised a camp not only for female students from secondary schools, but also for female students from universities. So I decided to go to the camp without asking anybody for advice. I just told my mother I would have liked to go there and to my surprise, my mother told me: ‘Well, go there!’ Consequently I travelled to Bardejov. The journey lasted almost a day. The camp took place in a recreational house belonging to nuns (The Daughters of St. Vincent de Paul). After my arrival a professor Pecíková, a person of a small stature, came to welcome me. I looked at her for a while, then I sized her up and I told to myself: ‘I am not sure whether we’ll find common ground,’ because I was dressed up in silken dress and a professor Pecíková wore calico dress. But after one or two evenings the ice broke and since then we stayed friends forever.”

“Why was I arrested? In the autumn of 1958 we found out that Sisters of the 3rd Order of St. Francis were being investigated. They were organised into a social group of nuns who wore habits combined with civilian clothes and they significantly participated in social work among Romanian people and people relegated to outer edge of society. During the investigation they told the name of a Franciscan priest Metod Lucký, who was in contact with them. He translated us a lot of French books from Polish language. Since Metod was investigated, we assumed they would find some books we had transcribed and they would come to investigate us, too. Interviewer: “What do you mean by saying ‘us’?” “I mean a group led by me and Mária Pecíková and later the Franciscian group, too. Firstly Táňa Biringerová was taken into custody, later Mária, and finally, I was arrested in January. The investigation didn’t last for long, because it was very simple. They brought nothing, but false accusation of state subverting because of distribution of the above mentioned literature. However, in the charge there was written that there were plenty of similar books in our state. Moreover, we were charged with assembling people and anti-state statements. It was the reason to open a trial. Lucký was sentenced to 3,5 years of imprisonment, Pecíková was sentenced to 2,5 years and I was given 1,5 years, but it was later shortened to one year. And so we ended up in prison.”