Annex 1:Pictures on Hungarian cupboards depicting women who are pregnant, in labour and giving birth.
*iERU/NS Annex 2/a
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(Khanti text)
[The sister and the brother
(1) (One upon a time there was) a sister and a brother, they lived a long time (?), who knows, they lived a short time (?), who knows. (2) The brother fell ill. (3) He is unwell from night to night, he is unwell from day to day. (4) They have a slat to seat five grouse; they have a slat to seat six grouse. (5) The sister says:
(6) "When my dear brother was (still) well, he would shoot goose, he fed me with goose (meat) morsels, he would shoot duck, he fed me with duck (meat) morsels ".
(7) She took her brother’s bow, she took his arrow, to shoot. (8) Placing it on her knee, she draws it, she shoots. (9) The arrow broke into three pieces.
(10) She went in to her brother, weeping. (11) “My brother, in winter too, during winter (too), you are unwell, in summer too, during summer (too) you are unwell. (12) We see a hundredfold need for food; we see a hundredfold need for drink. (13) My brother, (if) I speak, (it’s) misfortune, (if) I don’t speak, (it’s still) misfortune. (14) I’ve broken your bow into three pieces." (15} “My sister, bring those bow pieces here!"]
Honti, 1984 p. 170 and 199.
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Annex 2/b (Udmurt text)
The Vu-murt and the rope maker
A man was twisting a rope on the shore of a lake. While he was twisting it, the Vu-murt came out (i.e. of the lake) towards him. On the way out, he asked him: man, why are you twisting this rope? To turn (lit.
place) the bottom of this lake upwards – said the man. You [are] perhaps very strong, you boast overmuch; do not boast, rather first let us wrestle (we ourselves), then we will find out which one of us (lit. who of us) is stronger! How is it (lit. where is it) you would wrestle with me, wrestle first with my granddad! – said the man. Having said this, he sent the Vu-murt to a bear in the forest. When the bear saw the Vu-murt: why have you come here?! – he cried with his rough voice. On hearing this, the Vu-murt began to tremble greatly and all but (lit. little only) fell down from his feet. Then making his head a foot too, he ran into the lake. From here, catching sight of the man on the lakeshore, he said thus: from now on I believe [that] you [are] very strong; how terrible [even] your grandfather is, you yourself must be even stronger. So from now on let us (ourselves) have a try at running (lit. let us seek, let us try); whoever moves forward, he will win.]
(Translated by Bernát Munkácsi) Csúcs, 1990 p. 83 and 162.
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Annex 3
*iERU/N0DVVHVDQGindividuality
The masses – a fashionable word, a fashionable concept. Mass production, quantity production. The concepts of human masses and a man of the masses were perhaps introduced by the socialists. Up till then it was just used for material, and such in greater quantities. Continental mass, a mass of rock, a mass of water. And today it doesn’t really occur to us that the name for mass (hu. tömeg), the name of this abstract concept comes from the verb to stuff (hu. tömni). But we shouldn’t think of a poor goose right now, who is stuffed till he chokes by a farmer’s wife, but of the old type of leather sac (W|PO), which was stuffed full of curds by a shepherd. The amount that he could stuff inside, that was the mass of the curds.
Other things were also kept in such a sac, but only curds, or other similar soft, homogenous substances were “stuffed” into it. They stuffed it well, so that not a spark of air should be left inside, because it they did not take care, the curds would go sour.
Human masses are also stuffed like this into some organisation: party, state, church, trade union, share company, a gang of adventurers or other highwaymen. The aim of these organisations is the same as that of the sac: to hold together parts which easily fall apart and to protect them from the infecting influence of the external air. For this purpose there is party discipline, church discipline, the secret police and mafia vendetta.
The organiser of the masses imagines “human material” to be like curds: soft, shapeless, mouldable, and consisting of homogenous parts. A thief, if he removes stolen curds from the owner’s sac and presses them into his own, he can rest assured:
no-one will recognise them. This is how Hitler organised the German communists into his own party.
So what becomes (hu: lessz) curds? (Like this, with double szmy halves! [Usually written lesz– translator’s note] Long live the HAS, but they should leave our language alone!). I’m not asking about cow’s curd cheese, that is incorrectly called curds (hu:
túró), because it is not squeezed (túrt), just strained off from curdled milk. Real curds are squeezed from sheep’s cheese. The mature cheese is squeezed thorough the notched teeth of a rod as thick as your arm, like a rough grater. It has this shape:
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The curds are slightly salted, then stuffed into a small cask.
Formerly, the curds were stuffed and squeezed into a sac made of leather.
This is how the mass-organisers squeeze apart the natural forms of human society, the family, the clan, the nation, in order then to cram the morsels of these into their own sac. Only man is not a morsel of curds, until the organisers bring him down. But every single (hu: mindeggyike– again with double gy, my highly respected academic young sir! (hu: öcsémuram)) man, every single man is a personality, he cannot always be treated like curds. But the mass-organiser regards the personality as a subversive, infectious, rotten morsel, and from his point of view he is right too. So then, as Ady says
-.HUHV]WWHONHWV]HQWSDS]L S görcsös bottal háj-hasú polgár.
[They are pursued with a cross by a holy priest, And with a gnarled stick by a fat-bellied citizen.]
Beginning with Socrates, this has been the fate of every great personality, so how could it not have been the case with the Son of God?!
Even at a young age, a child is a little personality. This is broken first of all by school, the first mass-organisation in the life of a hapless “man of culture”. – The second is the military, the institute of blind obedience. In 1934, for instance, a drill corporal taught the boys entrusted to him that their lives were worth a mere sixpence.
That is now much a revolver bullet costs. And the corporal has a loaded revolver in his bag, and he has the right to shoot anyone who resists his sadistic cruelty.
But accordingto some, a soldier will better deal with an emergency at a critical turning point in war, if he can and dares to be a personality. (Emphasis Gy. K.)
Man is not cannon fodder. Neither is his physical strength his most valuable quality. His personality is. – Bandit chiefs are very well aware of this, and this is how they select their gangs. In Civilian society, unfortunately, few personalities are to be found. And in scientific life too, personalities are rare, very rare. Though one or two turn up each century. Perhaps there would be more, but the corporal of the sciences manages to get rid of them in time. After all, they only cost sixpence. And the flock is now clean. It follows the sound of the bell without thinking.
Hey, but a broken spine does not heal easily. It cannot be bound between splints.
Take care of it masters, teachers and other corporals!
3 December 1994
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