The past couple of months have been filled with English camps, conferences, short trips here and there, and a nice two week stint with a throat infection. A pretty busy Summer when I think about it. I've met a lot of kids and struggled to pronounce their Hungarian names, especially those I had never heard before. While I will forget most of the names I learned, there is one little boy that could never and will never be erased from my memory. Csaba. [pronounced Chaw-buh]
One of the English camps I worked was in a small village near Sfântu Gheorghe. It was run by a Unitarian minister, and she had a special guest for the week, her godson...Csaba.
I must admit, Csaba and I got off to a rocky start when he crawled under the table and tried to lift my dress at a confirmation dinner we were graciously invited to. Luckily my anticipation and good defensive skills prevented complete embarrassment and disaster.
Anyway, a little about the Csabster. As you can see in the picture, he is a bit overweight, but this just adds to his charm. The first thing I learned about Csaba was that he hates soup. In Romania and Hungary soup is an essential part of the main meal no matter the season. Because of this, Csaba felt the need to make his disapproval known everyday. Before every meal with a soup component he would yell "I DON'T WANT SOUP!" After the declaration, he would just lie his head on his plate and wait for the second course (meat) while the rest of us enjoyed the soup.
While Csaba hates soup, he certainly loves ketchup. This condiment graces the top of every meat he consumes. Not to mention there is a special place reserved for ketchup on his shirt. Yes, every meal we eat is represented on the ill-fitted t-shirts he wears. The shirts, stained from the grease and ketchup meals, are always a bit too short exposing the bottom portion of his little (actually big) belly.
While Csaba may not be the most refined 7 year old, he is quite smart. He loves animals, and knows quite a lot about them. This love would take him on all sorts of adventures in the yard. I would frequently observe him wandering in the garden talking to himself, or maybe to nature, not sure. In the yard they kept a mini trampoline, and Csaba would on several occasions jump about seven times, give up, and take a nap on the trampoline. Adventure over.
Another meal time favorite moment of mine was when he took to farting at the dinner table. Luckily we always enjoyed our meals outside. After the first or second occurrence, I believe his godmother had a talk with him because from then on, if he had to fart, he would get up, run approximately 10 feet away from the table, abruptly stop with his back towards us, and let it rip. I could never hold in my laughter.
At one of my last meals with the family, we were talking about how interesting this little fellow is. His godmother said, "Yeah, he is in a world of his own." At that precise moment we all turned our heads to see Csaba in the yard entangled in a garden hose. We all broke into laughter as they explained to me, "He's fighting a snake." He is indeed a special boy.
There really is so much to tell about Csaba. Like when he brilliantly died of a heart attack in the church play...
Or when he ran his neck straight into the limbo bar...
Or when he repeatedly hit his head on the desk because he was dissatisfied with his pear drawing...
But like all acquaintances, the time comes to say goodbye. On the last day, we held an exhibition to show all of the work the students had done during the camp. At this exhibition I showed my fondness by gently placing my hand upon Csaba's shaven head. He returned the gesture by grabbing my arm and smelling it. Thus ended my week with The Csabs.
To my delight, I was informed that Csaba lives in a village near my town, meaning it is possible that Csaba and I will have a reunion in the streets of Udvarhely. I sincerely hope so.
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