Magdalena Reichmannová

“Well, it was not a nice time, not even a little bit. It was terrible, nobody can imagine it. Those people, it was really desperate, when they had to leave everything behind there. When they left to Huzová they didn’t even know where they were going. Usually they moved them in the autumn and in the north, where they were going, there was already snow. It was terrible, really terrible, I hate to remember it. There was always so much crying and wailing, these people had lived there for so long and now they had to leave. Those who used to live in the north are now living around Břeclav, they moved there a lot. Nowadays their kids live there. Well, we’d have problems. Our mother had all her papers stacked and she would go back even without a house. She kept hoping to go back one day, believing it would happen. Eventually she died in 1985, my grandpa stayed alone. But if she was still alive, we’d really have problems with them, they wouldn’t have stayed here. Our mom never felt at home here. Although then there was the family here, but we also didn’t have an easy life here. They called us Germans. But we were not Germans, we were Croats.”

“I remember that my mother never ate the first cherries in May, she would eat them, but never the first ones. I sometimes asked about it. All the Croats were religious. My mother said: ‘you know, when those children die and they go to heaven, those children whose moms eat the cherries here on earth, St. Peter comes to them and says: ‘you won’t get any cherries, your mom already ate them for you’. Everybody there, not just my mom, they all kept that rule. That you can eat cherries, but only when there’s a lot of them on the cherry tree, but not the first ones.”

“On Easter, my mom, well actually every mom, used to say: ‘you’ve got to go and see in the garden, what the bunny brought to you’. And what the bunny brought was always hidden in the grass in a basket and it was a piece of soap. It was a joy when you found it. And here’s the soap, they would go on a ilgrimage. To the Three oaks, to Mariazell ... They used to wander, and when they returned, they came to Lučice. As long as we were little, we went on our own, but the older girls went as bridesmaids. We’d take Sulice from the church, such banners, they’d also take the Virgin Marry to Lučice. They knew when they’ll come and you maybe had a goddaughter or an aunt there, and when they came back from the pilgrimage, they were all given presents. The bigger ones maybe got a rosary or holy pictures, the smaller ones felling soap. It was a joy. Then they took a bath in the river, dressed, and went to church. But a lot of people used to go, really. Yeah, that’s how it used to be. And then, what was also a nice custom, on Easter, Good Friday, before the sun came out, we used to go to the river to wash off all the dirt. I don’t know if it was in the Thaya or in Jevišovka. And those who had somebody sick at home would bring him some water from the river and washed him with it. And then he went to kiss the cross. These were such altars of the Resurrection. Those who had an altar were significant citizens. These altars bore a picture and were made of spruce and they stood in front of the house. I don’t know what it was but it was mostly by the Pauri in the main street. On the Resurrection. Normally, women would dress in so-called tibetky, a cashmere skirt, but on the resurrection, they were all dressed in white. All in white, each and every woman. The girls wore sleeves and kuolarini, it was fabulous. Women had white scarves and starched skirts, the whole village was shining. I remember it. After the war, it carried on for some time, but then not anymore. In 1948, a lot of the Croats already had to move and then this tradition faded.”