“When he got old and he was really over eighty, there were basically three options: either he would give the fields to the Unified Agricultural Cooperative, but then somebody from the family would have to work there. Or he could continue farming as a private farmer, as grandfather had done, or he could donate the fields to the state. They were thus forcing grandpa, who was already old and could work no more, to donate the fields to the state, which grandpa refused, because the fields were his and he would not give them to anyone. In 1957 – grandpa died in 1959, and he was eighty-eight at that time – there is a department of forestry and agriculture here in Třešť – and they wrote to Mr. Mareš – his name was Mareš – about allotting him substitute land. In order for the unified cooperative to be able to farm, they wanted to have all their fields joined together. Therefore they gave my grandpa a field behind the village, two or three kilometers away from the house where he lived. He was eighty-eight.”
“That feeling of freedom, it was actually a kind of a game. Not that there would be a real freedom, but it was playing at freedom, or at camaraderie. I have hitchhiked all over the country. And over half of Hungary. At that time it was possible to hitchhike, you would get out on a road and wave your hand, and somebody would give you a ride. Either on a tractor, or on a truck. But now, a truck… Or there were motorcycles, and helmets were not compulsory at that time, so that was a wonderful thing. But above all, to me at least, it was giving me the feeling that one day I was among people somewhere and I could hide among them or have that feeling that I was free.”
“Then 1989 came. It was at the very end. I signed the manifesto ‘A Few Sentences,’ but that was no heroism. It was a petition for Václav Havel’s release from prison. The ‘A Few Sentences’ document was being signed in summer 1989. The communists left in November 1989. Not to speak about approximately fifty thousand people who have signed the petition ‘A Few Sentences,’ so that’s how it was. 1989 here in Jihlava... our kids were in the secondary technical school or in the grammar school, and the third, or fourth or fifth… it arrived late here: in Prague in was on November 17th, and here in Jihlava it arrived later. As the news of what was happening in Prague started coming in, they were coming home from school, saying what horrible things were happening, and that they would go on a strike and march through the city. And they gathered in front of the grammar school building and they asked me: ‘So, will you go?’ And I said: ‘Yes, I will go with you.’ And we marched from the grammar school, through Křížová Street to the city square and back and each of us was holding a candle in their hands.”
Josef Morkus was born on February 5, 1945 in Jihlava. His father was a German and his mother was a Czech. All relatives from the father‘s side of the family were deported to Germany after the end of the war. The Morkus family was allowed to stay thanks to the Czech nationality of Josef‘s mother. After the communist regime‘s rise to power, the Morkus family continued going to church and Josef‘s father was boycotting communist parades and other activities which promoted the new regime. As a result, the authorities turned down his son‘s application for study at a secondary school. Josef learnt the glasscutter‘s trade and he began working in the company Motorpal. At that time he also started going tramping with his friend. In 1983 he began teaching at a vocational school, the same one at which he had studied, and in 1987 he began working as a teacher at a secondary technical school. He eventually earned his school-leaving certificate later after having attended evening classes. In 1989 he signed the manifesto „A Few Sentences.“
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!
