Ondrej Mazan

And then we went to see a car wreck. That was our dream. You know, in those days, bring some western car... or whatever. The guard of the parking lot: 'come on, take a look, boys'. And that we can also disassemble something? Of course, you can ... we had a screwdriver, combinations ... we even went a little crazy. Then we showed it to him, the guard and he said give me ten marks or five marks and that's it. And then at home, when I came back, I remember, everyone around me: "Well, how was it there?" Imagine, we were at a car wreck. And I got into one of those cars, I turned the knob on the car radio and it was playing! Damn, they scrapped a car with a car radio that works and with a battery. Shit, we couldn't even imagine in those years, in the eighties, that someone would put a car in a car wreck that wasn't even crashed or something, and the lights work and the radio works. Oh damn!

Otherwise a good guy, he just blindly believed it all. He was short, fat, and under his armpit he carried the biographies I wrote about them, on these of mine... you know? So he took it to the party meeting. I didn't do anything with it. Of course, I wrote only the best ... so, he goes to that party meeting and has those papers under his armpit. And I say: "Karol, show me what you've got!" And he stomped, his eyes almost popped out and he just stammered that: "I won't give it. I won't give it. I won't give it!” He believed in it terribly. And I say: "I wrote it, you...!" "I won't give it!"

Well. We were assigned, I think, three wagons. Because we, the Slovaks, who went from there, were privileged to be able to take everything with us. Furniture, livestock, or a piglet, just animals, and even the wood, which was the wood stock in the yard. So, we got, I think, it was three wagons. The truck was taking us to the railway station. And then the postman came and gave my mother a letter. She opened it and read. Her brother, wrote from the Czech Republic. 'Please, don't even come here. There is terrible misery here', and I don't know what else was written there. Well, that was a dilemma. My mother was afraid to show the letter to my father, because two trucks had already left for the station with our things.