Showing posts with label csango. Show all posts
Showing posts with label csango. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
The Rewards of Going to School (A Csango Story)
Once there was a man, maybe sixty or seventy years old, who lived with his wife. But they weren't a very happy couple, no. They were very poor, and they were always fighting because of it. They fought morning and evening, winter and summer. One day, in the middle of an argument, the woman asked her husband, "Tell me old man, when you were young, didn't you ever go to school?" And he replied that he never had. So she got very angry with him and told him, "Then in the morning you will gather your things and go down to the school!"
So the next morning the man set off early in the morning and arrived at the school. The teacher saw him, and said, "What are you doing here? Do you have a child you want to send here?"
"I have no child, I have nothing!"
"Then what are you looking for here?"
"I've come to school! I want to be in the class!"
"Oh, Lord," the teacher replied. "It's too late for you to have come now. There's no use to it."
So the poor man went back out the door and started home, but without much spirit. He hung his head as he walked down the road. As soon as he went through his front gate into their small front yard, his wife stood in front of him. "Why did you come home? I thought I told you to go to school!"
"I went there, I did," protested the old man. "But the teacher sent me home; he said I came too late."
"Well, then you'll just have to go earlier tomorrow!" the wife decided.
And that's what happened. The old man woke up even earlier, put a biscuit in his carrying bag, and started off for the school. He was the first to arrive, but the teacher said to him again, "What are you doing here? I thought I told you yesterday - you're too late for school. Go home!"
And the old man got very annoyed at this, and decided that he wouldn't be too late the next day. Before night even set, he had already started back towards the school, and sat outside it all night long. But still, the teacher told him that he was again too late.
He started home, finally given up. He was very sad, and even his tears fell as he walked home. But between two sighs, he looked down and saw that there was something shining in his path. He bent down and found a bag. He opened it, and found that it was filled to the brim with gold coins. Oh, he was beyond happy.
He rushed home, and was met at the gate by his wife. "Look, woman! I went to school for only three days, and see what rewards I've gotten!" And from the gold they bought horses, cattle, a wagon, and a beautiful house. And they still live happily - unless they've since died. And that's the end, run away with it, to the top of the mountain!
Original Source
Sunday, October 20, 2013
The Csángó
The Csango people are a group of ethnic Hungarians living in Romania. While the origin of their name is debated, a popular theory is that it is derived from a word meaning "wanderer" or "one who became lost due to mischief." Their reputation amongst Hungarians does suggest that they had a streak of rebelliousness. One of the charges levied against the Csango people by outsiders was that they did not "respect the sanctity of marriage", for example. (Another explanation is that "chango-ing" is an onomatopoeia for making noise to frighten away enemies from the Hungarian border, and thus they were a group placed on the borders of the kingdom of Hungary proper.)








The Csango anthem:
Csángo Hungarian, Csángó Hungarian,
What have you become, Csángó Hungarian.
You are a bird fallen from a tree branch
Abandoned and forgotten.
O God, what will become of us?
Our children and we will be lost!
That which was kept by our fathers,
Our beautiful language is being killed.
You settled down on a plain,
Which you called a country.
But you have neither country nor home,
Only God takes care of you.
We have heard that Hungary still stands,
Lord, we ask your blessing upon it as well
Let them take pity upon us
And not give us up for lost.
We're oppressed by a foreign tongue
Italian priests stand upon your neck
You're unable to sing or make your confessions,
Unable to pray in your mother tongue.
Because we are Hungarians as well,
Split from Asia in our past.
O God, guide our fate,
Don’t let the Csángó Hungarian be lost
Labels:
csango,
culture,
ethnic groups,
folk songs,
history,
music
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