131For the Ľuptáks, trouble began after the war. In March 1946 the provisional
National Assembly of Czechoslovakia ratified decrees signed by the president of the
republic Edvard Beneš. Mass displacements ensued. Slovaks moved from Hungary
to Czechoslovakia, and Hungarians moved home to Hungary. The Ľupták family,
at least on paper, was Hungarian. They ended up close to the village of Békéscsaba,
in the southeast of Hungary, close to the Romanian border. This was the family’s
first time out of Rimavská – far away from home and in extreme poverty. There
was no one to talk to and nothing to eat.
“Ján thought one should keep quiet, when, in fact, one should have fought,”
Michal says. “But that is the way it is here. We succumb to circumstances like the
leaves in the wind. We quell everything inside and then it just explodes.”
The family returned to Rimavská in the mid-1950s. After Stalin’s death in 1953,
the Eastern bloc revived for a bit. Jazz, the French New Wave and beatniks found
their way here. Students took to the streets of Bratislava and Prague and demanded
an opening up to the West. Peter Hames, an author who writes about Czechoslo-
vakia’s post-war cinema, notes that this period in the country’s history became the
scene of a “cultural thaw”.
The duckThe Tomášová district in Rimavská has a rhythm of its own – work, cleaning
and television, which the authorities were giving away for half price. Children
played with guns and bullets dug out of the ground – remnants of the war. Few
are interested in liberalisation or new trends in culture. There was no cinema in
Tomášová and no cafés. Nor were there any charming tenement houses from the
1840s, like the ones that can be found in Rimavská’s square. Today, in Tomášová
the contrasts are even starker. On the one side are tasteless mansions with Ro-
manesque columns, swimming pools and golden handles; on the other, furniture
strewn around the yards and shreds of a tablecloth act as the front door. Barefoot
Gypsy children stare at Land Rovers.
The Ľupták family lived somewhere here after the war – Ján, his wife and
grown-up sons (the older Branislav and Ján Jr). There was once a small party in
Tomášová. It was the birthday of Ján or his wife, Emilia. They were both born in
the springtime: Ján in May and Emilia in April. A bit of booze, some gossip and a
little sorrow; maybe more sorrow than gossip. They were discussing politics and Ján
was defending the communists. Branislav was on the offensive. For dinner, there
was duck which Emilia prepared. She learned the recipe from a Jewish family, at
whose house she served before the war. Ján looked at those Jews with suspicion. A
The curse of Ján Ľupták’s duck, Dariusz Kałan Reports