“We [family] used to take the train to Svatá hora and Příbram at that time because, as I said, we did not have a car for a long time and I together with my brothers knew in advance what to expect when we were approaching Příbram, and we were not looking forward to it. Because my dad, since impulsive Hungarian blood was in his veins, started screaming uncontrollably so that the whole compartment could hear it: ‘Communist bastards, thugs, we were dying here!‘ as soon as heaps of mined waste rock from the uranium camps in the area of Příbram began to appear on the horizon. And it was in the 1980s, which means during the previous regime. And people quickly left the compartment because they were afraid that it was some kind of provocation. Mum was calming my dad down: ‘Otík, don´t, be quiet please.‘ However, he got even angrier as we were approaching the waste rock. And of course, we were very ashamed, so we pretended it did not concern us and we knew that it was a given part of travelling to Svatá hora and Příbram and that it would always happen. It used to take place every time we went to Příbram.”
“There were a couple of such collaborators around my dad in the 1970s. And those were people whom he completely trusted and as I had already mentioned it would have been even more bitter for him if he had come to this knowledge. And I would also like to mention here that some of them were also recruited from the clergy of the time. I do not want to evaluate that period during which I was a little child, however, when I read the State Security files, I remember that time as a little boy who had also two younger siblings and I try to identify with those agents – “friends” who came to eat Sunday lunch with us, they held us on their laps and they saw us as little children and at the same time they had to know very well that by what they were doing, they were helping for example to my father´s third arrest. And I am convinced that at that time when he had failing health, he would not have survived the third imprisonment. I try to also ask these questions about why those people did it because they had to see us around them as little children. And yet somehow this did not discourage them from the activities, which unfortunately were repeated."
“She was such an extremely noble person standing in front of me. My dad remembered her from his youth because they spent a lot of free time together and in the 1950s, they for example liked dancing together in Bílá růže in Písek, he said about her that she sometimes had a piercingly magical look in her eyes. And I must say that I experienced something alike when she gave me her hand, she squeezed my hand tight and looked into my eyes with such a deep look that I was completely embarrassed. However, she was highly charismatic, and it was such a deep moment that it is imprinted on my memory. I then took her to my dad who was looking out for her and expecting her. They hugged for a long time and Dagmar was as happy as he was and said that at least it all led to something in the end, for their sake... and she looked at me as a representative of the young generation, that their struggle and their resistance helped to bring about the collapse of the regime not only in our country but in all other communist countries. So, they were extremely happy about that."
“I will now skip a bit towards the end of the 1980s, but it was still in totalitarianism. I was once studying for a test at the grammar school, it was sometime in 1988 and my dad came to my room and said: ‘What are you doing?‘ And I (said): ‘I am studying for a test.‘ Dad brought a book that was at that time being circulated among families in Písek, it was the book that I had already mentioned ‘Byly jsme tam taky‘ (We were there as well) which was written by Dagmar Šimková and which was secretly circulated among families in Písek and each family had one day to read it. And dad finished reading the book and gave it to me, I was about seventeen years old, and he said: 'Well, as an exception, stop your schoolwork and read this book, because it is particularly important that you have the opportunity to read it.' Back then in 1987, and 1988, we did not know when the end of the communist regime would come, even though we hoped that the end was coming. And dad drew my attention to the fact that there was a paragraph concerning him on page fourteen. And the truth is that Dagmar Šimková states there that when she was transported from Prague State Security to the one in České Budějovice, (she saw) them carrying a man on a stretcher and the man was bruised and bloodied from the interrogation, and she knew him very well. And that was my dad, who at that time, as I said, was very close to her."
Antonín Sekyrka was born on 7 October 1971 in Písek. His whole life has been affected by his father, Ota Sekyrka´s story who before he started his family spent fourteen years in communist (labour) camps – in uranium mines in the area of Jáchymov and Příbram and also in Valdice prison. During the period of normalization, the family with four children lived with minimal financial resources and was under constant pressure from State Security. Both parents had failing health and died prematurely, the father a year after the Velvet Revolution. Antonín Sekyrka graduated in History and German language at the University of South Bohemia in České Budějovice, and he has devoted his life to teaching. He has worked on a detailed reconstruction of his father´s life since the 1990s and he was preparing its book edition at the time of the recording. He works as the head teacher of Česká Grammar School in České Budějovice; he, his wife, and their two sons live in Hluboká nad Vltavou.
