Mariana Klepáčková

“This snake had made its home here, Dad said. There was an artilleryman in the village, they told him to lie in wait and shoot it. When the shot rang out, it was so slick [the bullet] slid right off it. It was easily over three metres long and strong. And that pellet just slid off harmlessly. So they didn’t know what to do. In the end they stalked it out, it had hidden in a plot overgrown with blackberries, the whole village came and doused the area all around. They got their long sticks ready. Wherever it came out, they were ready to beat it. It poked its head out one side, then the other side, then rushed back and burnt in the middle. After it had burnt, they found lamb ribs inside it. That’s how big it was. When it was hunting, it slid among the sheep and caught a lamb, it swallowed it and writhed and shook around, my Dad said. Well that, that was terrifying.”

“I had five children with my husband. The third daughter was with me in the field, we were digging, she was thirteen. And she was digging the sweetcorn, just as they taught me, so I taught my children. That’s how it was done. You learnt everything from each other. She was killed by lightning. Lightning killed her in the field with me. She had the morning and the little one had the evening. They met here in a hurry, had a bite to eat and the little one had school from two and this one just until twelve. That’s how they met up, it was close by me in the field. That’s where we ate our lunch. After three o’clock, quarter past three, the ball lightning came rushing in and she was a gonner. It was a terrible bang. She was in the sixth class, this was the 31 May and she had all kinds of important tests ahead of her. She was learning the same as I did. Her class teacher didn’t have children and was excited about her. He told me: ‘I won’t let her sit at home, I won’t let you keep her in the field! I’ll show you she can go to school and I’ll take watch out for her. She’ll learn and know it all.’ When he came and saw her lying there, he collapsed on our doorstep and they had to resuscitate him and bring him outside. That was a terrible blow, but what can you do. You survived it all.”

“Under Ceaușescu, under communism, they stopped. Pilgrimages weren’t permitted. I remember when we went to Čiklava, we had this small cross from the church. We stuck it in a backpack, so they wouldn’t see it. The Reverend Mašek went with us. It was a true pilgrimage, seeing as sixty six of us went from here. We were all young married couples, some single, but more were married. The singing rang out through the woods. [Vicar Mašek] was dressed like our menfolk. He had a woman talk before him so they wouldn’t notice he was there. To avoid problems and investigations about him leading the nation.”