Štefan Pňáček

“There were people of thirteen nationalities here; Bulgarians, Hungarians, Slovaks and Rumanians. Indeed thirteen, I know that for sure as we counted it in Oloví. In Jindřichovice there were not only the Pňáčeks, but also Zifčáks, Gondiks, Muchas, Oceláks, Jaruščáks. All those families, who have been living there until today, come from Rumanian villages. Our parents used to tell us, children, when there was a fire in the stove. So it was; when they came to Jindřichovice, an organisation called Solidarity called them to all come out to the square. They arrived on horse-drawn carriages and of course, before they came back to Jindřichovice, the good houses were already taken by people from Prague, who had contacts. My parents got only was left behind. They never complained, they were happy. They never had anything alike in Rumania. There was a well and electricity. They just had to work hard. And they were used to that ever since so no problem. They led all their children to work. The cattle had to be fed, the grass had to be cut and everything ready. Dad was not interested if my grades are poor. When I came back from school, the first thing was the bike and nettles. Two sacks of nettles each day. Out in the yard we had a scorcher and a big cutter left by the Germans. My parent taught us to work; that was essential. The Pňáčeks, I do not want to brag, they had the largest farm. In the end they called my father a gulag. You know, what it was like, but he never minded it. What else should he have done to feed a family? He just had to.”