Folk traditions

Folk traditions
May 30, 2019
In the vernacular the willow was called the magic tree, witch tree, tree of death, though they could have just as well been called tree of life, as their bark was used for healing and their branches provided firewood. Fűzfabotolás , or pollarding, a way of getting firewood, was an age-old trade in Kukkónia. Firebote or wood cutting in the forests was generally carried out in winter, it was a man’s job. Men went to the forest in small groups, armed with axes or saws, to gather the family’s firewood. This was no different on this cool morning. János Csicsai and his family drove the tractor...
Folk traditions
Dec 07, 2018
The people of Csallóköz were always known as skilful fishermen. How could they not, when the island was criss-crossed with the rich veins of the Danube channels, which virtually offered up their extravagant offerings on a plate. Those who discovered the secrets of the water and the paths the fish took could make a killing all year round. The real secrets were handed down from father to son and the locals tried to learn from childhood on the tricks of the trade. It was not difficult to find a suitable place, thanks to the Danube’s rich system of branch waters the fish could come to the house...
Folk traditions
Dec 07, 2018
Along the banks of the slowly flowing waters or in the marshy, swampy areas, the men were not idle even in winter. Cutting reeds was hard physical work, which tried body and soul. These days reeds have gone out of fashion, however, in Bős, there are men who still know how to cut reeds. The little group got together on a sunny but nippy morning. Our guide today is Zoltán Fekete, woodman, Jaroslav Profant, the former leader of the reed cutters of Bős, Iván Brožek, and his son, Norbert. Iván is a real Danubian man. He has been a reed cutter since childhood. There is a lull in the wind for the...
Folk traditions
Nov 27, 2018
The pig screams, he knows it is the end for him. My sister and I turn away, while a tear falls from the corner of our eyes. We plead with the adults not to harm the animal. The pig- sticker laughs at us. “This will make delicious meat.” Finally, I give way, but 25 years later I still cover my eyes, when in the early morning I hear the last screams of the pigs. But now it is not just one, but 12 pig-stickers, who are laughing at me. “Yes, and hold your nose,” they joke with me. Finally, I pull myself together and think that I cannot be this squeamish, after all I am a country girl. In addition...
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