Božena Valterová

“When they came by car, did the house search and upset everything, wardrobes and all, we said it was like you were not a human anymore. It was a disaster. I said, ‘Mum, write it all on the window pane so people can see what we are.’ But the people knew. My mum would make pastry for every wedding and feast. What a pastry maker she was! She had been to the housekeeping school in Rožnov. When there were dances they made everything in our place because we had a large kitchen and lobby, with enough space to store it. She had crates and everything she could provide to people. She said, ‘Who have I wronged now that I have to suffer so much?’ It took a toll on her; she died aged just fifty three.”

“I used to play amateur theatre, the piece was called ‘Muziky, muziky’, and it was such a merry comic opera. I played the character Tekla and sang this aria: ‘My poor father was wronged.’ Literally. That was in the screenplay. And I just couldn’t sing it because it always made me cry. Mr Šafránek was the school headmaster at the time, he organised the troupe, and he told me: ‘Boži, don’t think about it. Just close your eyes and sing!’ So then I learned it and sang it. When we played the Slovan venue, mum said, ‘I don’t want to hear it, I’m not coming.’ I said, ‘Mum, come and see it.’ I approached her sisters and asked them to go with her, at least one of them. Mum said: ‘Nobody is coming! Our dads are in prison. We’d be there like widows!’ I sang the aria – and what an applause! Mr Šafránek said, ‘Boži, you definitely have to sing it once more.’ I said, ‘I won’t sing it anymore...’ And I didn’t.”