Ava's father wrinkles his nose at laziness. He scoffs at failure. Just days before, when a young man runs through his garden completely naked, muttering something incomprehensible, he rolls his eyes. Then, he turns back to his corn field and pushes the plow forward.
If every young Romani lad from the neighboring adobe huts finally loses it, so what? If they all run past, muttering in a weeping voice, “I give up! I give up! I can’t take it anymore,” he doesn’t care.
Every shabby house on that road fends for itself, now. The Romanis no longer even trust one another. They have eaten everything. Gone through all of their food reserves. Even the dry vegetables, beans and peas. The hidden food that a few had successfully kept from the State is unburied. Even the cruelly treated livestock, with skin clinging to bony rib cages has been eaten, to keep them from grazing on bare …show more content…
They wash it down with five to six liters of oil and a small amount of salt every third day. And if an entire family is left eating one piece of bread, weighing about a kilogram? Then, to Németh Dózsa. So be it.
Now, sleeping in shifts, he’s keeping a leery watch over his property, each night. Overseeing his yard, fully aware that the lads are taking everything that isn’t attached. Placing things worth any amount on old carts -- vessels, shoes, tools, and the alarm clocks, and selling them on the black market. Even the abandoned houses of any neighbor who had been marched away by the Russians. Nothing is sacred.
When Németh draws water from his well, they line up, thirsty. Some with that strong smell of Palinka on their breath. When his neighbors seem unable to grasp how he continues to work, smarter and harder? He rolls up his sleeves and digs in. When they complain about the system, forcing farmers to deliver part of their harvested produce to the state? He tightens his belt and turns the other way. Always the tough
If every young Romani lad from the neighboring adobe huts finally loses it, so what? If they all run past, muttering in a weeping voice, “I give up! I give up! I can’t take it anymore,” he doesn’t care.
Every shabby house on that road fends for itself, now. The Romanis no longer even trust one another. They have eaten everything. Gone through all of their food reserves. Even the dry vegetables, beans and peas. The hidden food that a few had successfully kept from the State is unburied. Even the cruelly treated livestock, with skin clinging to bony rib cages has been eaten, to keep them from grazing on bare …show more content…
They wash it down with five to six liters of oil and a small amount of salt every third day. And if an entire family is left eating one piece of bread, weighing about a kilogram? Then, to Németh Dózsa. So be it.
Now, sleeping in shifts, he’s keeping a leery watch over his property, each night. Overseeing his yard, fully aware that the lads are taking everything that isn’t attached. Placing things worth any amount on old carts -- vessels, shoes, tools, and the alarm clocks, and selling them on the black market. Even the abandoned houses of any neighbor who had been marched away by the Russians. Nothing is sacred.
When Németh draws water from his well, they line up, thirsty. Some with that strong smell of Palinka on their breath. When his neighbors seem unable to grasp how he continues to work, smarter and harder? He rolls up his sleeves and digs in. When they complain about the system, forcing farmers to deliver part of their harvested produce to the state? He tightens his belt and turns the other way. Always the tough