František Kopáčik Bajcsy
The ups and downs in life of one controversial Slovak, a motorcyclist (Extract from magnus opus of this author)
It is not easy to write about my life.
On the other hand, something always tells me to write about it, so that others know how much bitterness one has to live trough to become a little bit different, a “better” person.
Many of my acquaintances, know that such life stories are a rarity.
It will be really long reading, but someone told me that a short reading is usually not worth much.
In life on this planet, the good times and bad times alternate, and it was so for a long time.
Once I have seen on TV that human being is on this Earth as a punishment.
I wish it was the truth and I also wish that one’s soul will be fully happy and without worries on another planet, in another life.
It may be just a fiction, but oftentimes we live preoccupied with something that may both never and nowhere become a reality.
Despite this I believe in goodness and I pray for “God” helping us.
What you are about to read here is life.
Cruel, painful and with plenty of suffering, but sometimes life can be also totally awesome.
I was born on March 19 1968 in Nitra, probably because there was no functional hospital facility in Šala, but there may be another reason for it.
I cannot recollect this event, despite trying hard to remember.
I couldn’t even find anything on Google.
Despite this, I will find out the true reason and clear up this matter once for all.
Once I have asked someone from my family how things were with me and I got an answer that I was an unwanted child. My father didn’t want me, but upon persuasion from my mother´s father, my parents got married and an individual “Fero Kopáčik” was brought to this life, with name that can be shortened as FKB.
I will tell you, it is cruel and if you want to have children have them out of love and raise them with even stronger love.
If that is the case children will grow to be happy and it will be easier for them to walk through life.
My father did not want to marry my mother.
However, at the same time he couldn’t do much to resist the marriage, as my grandpa was a strongly believing Catholic, who worked at a mill.
He carried heavy bags of flour and wheat waste as if they were light as feathers.
I had been fascinated by the strength in his arms, since personally I was always so skinny I could almost be seen trough. My body was built like a walking skeleton, despite having sufficient food.
Oftentimes my mother told me “nepofáz ott a zsíros dobon” (basically encouraging me to eat in Hungarian language). During my early childhood, I lived in Šala , on Jarmocna street in an old double house, built from soft bricks, where two families lived.
One family was my father František Kopáčik with his wife Margita and the other family was his cousin Štefan Kopáčik with his wife Rožika and daughter Elenora.
The house and the courtyard were in terrible condition, considering the time period we lived in there, the house was basically sentenced to be demolished.
Today there is an elementary school building in its place.
In the house there was no toilet or bathroom, there was not even running water in the house.
In the backyard there was a “luxurious” outhouse.
For the winter months, my father has put polystyrene on the toilet seat so that our asses wouldn’t freeze and stick to the seat.
There could be no such “enjoyment”.
The only water, which was very cold in winter months, has been possible to obtain from the faucet pipe located somewhere in the middle of the courtyard.
Under the faucet there was always a bucket so that no water would go to waste.
From this source, water was taken for everyday use and it was also a place where aunt Rózsika washed her feet, which resulted in her developing convulsive vein disease.
On the yard there was also a deep well, near to which there resided a chained dog Rexo.
Poor dog always barked like crazy, whenever we approached him near the well.
We had big respect for that dog, since he looked scary.
The well was full of plastic toys, we have thrown in there as children.
Nobody would take them back out for us, despite us wishfully starring into the well.
Nobody who wanted to do it, was found.
Behind the well there was a wheat trasher. It was colossal and therefore I had respect for it.
Of course under the shed, there was my father´s motorcycle, model JAWA 175.
This majestic thing has always tempted me the most from my earthly desires.
Every time I looked at that miraculous thing named motorcycle, a passion for it was being born in me, without me knowing at the time.
This passion has never left me.
It has been my biggest passion, of course excluding women.
The big courtyard quickly turned into mud field during rainy days and became only possible to traverse in big rubber boots.
The night walk to outhouse in deep mud and cold air was so memorable, that I remember it like it was yesterday. Whenever I sat on the polystyrene, I felt a warm feeling on my tiny backside.
It made me almost forget about my tiny testicles being cooled by ice cold winter wind leaking into the outhouse.
An experience carved into my memory with freezing engraver.
Behind the backyard there was a big garden full of old tall trees.
If I remember correctly, those were apple trees and pear trees.
Everywhere on the ground there were tons of rotting bio fruit, on which there were feasting not only various bugs, but also us children.
At the end of the garden there was a big swamp we used to call “Pošváň”.
I googled it and it told me it was a lake on which Šala residents used to ice skate. In its place there now stands a shopping mall Olympia.
The water surface did not look appealing on neither on the first nor on the second glance at it.
There were various weird things in the water.
Around the whole swamp lake there was a narrow pathway, one could traverse.
Us children were prohibited to go near it, but I have always been interested in forbidden fruit, whether it was going near the swamp or later in life women, motorcycles, booze and drugs.
The deep grass near the swamp lake was always full of birds, which attracted my uncle Laco to try to hunt them with an air gun.
I think he was successful, since he had many taxidermized trophies of birds at my grandma´s Terka Kopacik´s place, which would probably land todays hunter in prison for a long time.
This swamp lake always tempted me, probably because I was born with an astrological sign of Pisces.
A fish attracts other fishes.
I love water and find a relax and comfort near it, simply said it replenishes my energy for life.
But this water was not suitable for swimming, as far as I know there was a sewage flowing into it.
Someone also mentioned that water from a dry ice factory was flowing inside of it.
But let’s cut to the chase.
The cat has 7 lives, but FKB has many more.
On one beautiful day we went for quasi garden hiking with my first childhood girlfriend Norika alias Líška.
We were maybe 4 or 5 years old and we were walking trough our huge garden towards the forbidden area.
It was definitely my idea, since I have always been an expert on evil deeds.
I had seen a tree stump in the water, and I immediately had a great idea that I will try to stand on it.
So, I tried. I almost had my both legs on the, but there was a catch- the stump was floating on the water.
Some moron must have placed it there, so FKB either gets wet or drowns.
I quickly found myself under the water and the fact that I am Pisces sign didn’t help.
Fortunately Norika did not panic and dragged me from the cold and green water.
So this was my second attempt to leave this world against my will.
The first attempt was not in my hands.
Nori was like a shadow, always behind me.
I never found a courage to tell her, but there was something magical and prohibited at the same time.
She was always stronger, as I was a lightweight “walking clothes” and in every scuffle she has beaten me.
However, I will go back to my first attempt to leave this planet.
There was terribly cold, everywhere there was plenty of snow and my parents went for a walk with a sleigh.
There were no snow scooters back then and I think that from this day onwards I love this strange white stuff.
I was 2 and was rolled up in a thick blanket so that I, the winter lover, don’t get a cold.
When my parents arrived home, they found out that sleigh was empty and their only son FKB has vanished somewhere. Therefore, they had to return and look for FKB somewhere in snowdrift.
I think I was dressed quite well since I am writing here and thanks god I did not get lost under that amazing white snow, I love so much.
Somewhere between the backyard and the garden was another fascinating forbidden area, the hole for storing and processing the lime.
During the hot summer days, the lime has been drying and its surface looked like scorched desert with deep craters.
This appearance of the substance has tempted me to explore this area.
Back then I was unaware of what is a temptation.
Of course, there came a “Day D”, when I couldn’t resist this temptation.
Temptation has been with me my whole life and it has always tempted me to do the thing in question.
It always ended badly, outright horribly that is.
I can say that I am obsessed with various temptations.
Temptation has found me as its victim, which it can drag around.
My father was doing something in the garden and I couldn’t resist and stepped onto the surface of the dried lime powder.
Immediately I had sunken into the powder, surface of which looked like Sahara Desert, and found myself deep under its surface.
My father heard my screaming, who was in the garden.
He immediately pulled me out and put me under the garden faucet with splashing cold water.
I screamed as an animal that is being skinned alive.
Sometimes the pleasure with dried lime and ice cold water hurts strongly.
What is paradoxical that I have gone through it all again.
The magical attraction of dried powder lime had messed with my mind.
After this amazing attempt, I am sure my father did beat me up strongly.
We lived on Jarmočná street, in the middle of which there stands an elementary school.
The long house in which also lived fathers cousin with a nickname “Habrždí” with his family.
That was his wife Rózsika and daughter Eleonora.
The house was built from soft bricks and it is safe to say that there was almost nothing in it.
There was a kitchen and one room.
The heating in the room for sleeping was both magical and smelly at the same time.
The diesel stove was lit so hard that from it came fear and terror.
The smell was fascinating for me and it smelled good to me.
Oftentimes I have secretly opened 200-liter barrel with diesel in it and I inhaled the fumes.
At least you know why I am the way I am.
Every evening, when my brother and I were put to sleep an unique theatrical show, that probably won’t be replayed by anyone, has ensued.
The walls were with holes like a swiss cheese and from these holes there were constantly running one or more racers, I used to call “home mouse”.
They were running around the room and climbing on walls all whilst showing their speed.
That is when I realized that if I want to be fast, I have to become a motorcyclist.
Of course, mom tried to catch the mice into a cage trap designed for them, but every morning the mouse cage was full. My mother then let them go from the cage in the morning in a way so when mouse has poked its head out, she slammed the cage shut so that the mouse lost its head.
I didn’t like this ritual, as blood was literally everywhere.
Mice were making terrible noises and I felt sorry for them.
In the kitchen we had a “sparhelt” and cupboard.
On the cupboard wall inside there was a list with phone numbers.
In it were all phone numbers that were important for my parents.
I don’t remember many other details from the interior, but I might ask my godfather.
My best godfather is Frantisek István Bajcsy.
The yard in front of the house was humongous, during the rain it was very muddy and slippery.
In the center of the courtyard was a well, a classical ground well with a chain and a bucket.
Parents always screamed at us that we should not lean over the well to prevent us from accidentally falling into it.
Despite being prohibited to do so, we have thrown all our toys into the well.
We would look into the well with big sad eyes, just wishing someone would retrieve our toys from there.
That never happened.
On the left there was a long shed.
I remember there being a wheat trasher in there as well as father´s motorcycle model Jawa 175.
Every glance at its two wheels would awake a temptation in me.
However, the prohibition to climb on the motorcycle was too strong.
Despite this, I had always been thinking about how I will manage to climb onto it.
It happened many times, that I was beaten up for trying, but it seems like the beatings from my youth taught me nothing. One try at messing with the motorcycle ended especially wrong for me.
I tried to put it on its back wheel and the motorcycle fell on me.
Crying and screaming has ensued.
Therefore, this was technically my first fall from motorcycle, when I was about 5 years old.
After this attempt, I tried to give the motorcycle a bit of a rest.
What is paradoxical is that already back then I got warning from above.
God loves me very much and I am deeply grateful for that.
I remember one experience from the yard.
My mother was making a homemade alcohol from sour cherries.
After it was finished, she poured the alcohol into bottles and left the remaining fruit in a big 5 liter bottle.
But we the children had sweet teeth, so we found the bottle and ate the fruit soaked with alcohol from it. It was summertime, the hot sun was shining on our heads and the alcohol we had unknowingly consumed made us tipsy.
We have often used to sit on an old school table someone brought us, but this time we did not sit but instead lay under it drunk from the alcohol.
We were clueless what the substance was doing with our bodies.
I remember that someone visited our family that day and asked why the children were so calm.
This was our first time being under influence of alcohol.
Across the street lived a grandma of Dušan and Marián.
With a great joy we have been throwing clay balls into a small hole on their yard.
Nobody of us knew what the rules of the game were, but despite that we were happy to play together.
I do not remember getting into conflicts about who was winning.
At the end of the street there was a place where two gutters for water drainage ended.
There was a big fen at this place, but for me and Nora it was like a lake.
We would hang a bent nail on a wire tied the end of a stick and we would pretend to be fishing for imaginary fish for hours on end.
It was great, because we would not be stuck on our yard where nothing apart from cackle of hens was happening.
If occasionally an interesting car passed through the street, we would have something to talk about for days.
The first five years of my life have passed quickly and after that me and my brother had to move to a new house at Vinohradnícka street.
I was very upset about it, since parents of Norika /Eleonora/ were didn’t have their house finished and I was left without my only and loving friend.
Half year before enrolling to first year of elementary school, I was placed in a kindergarten for few hours a day.
It was absolutely new experience from me, but I have taken it as my obligation to go there.
Then came a day when I started attending elementary school at so called “Petéška”.
I finally reunited with my best friend, I have been away from for half a year.
Comrade teacher Petrová took good care of us.
If our results in school were flawless, she would stick a small gold star onto our school report.
It was a treasure for us.
We couldn’t figure out from where she was taking them.
She had them hidden in small paper bag.
My first school year passed quickly and in the second me and Norika started attending new school at Pionierska street. Finally we were together again on a daily basis.
Every morning there was a complicated way to school ahead of me.
I never knew how many times would I stumble, scratch my knees and make big holes to my trousers I hated.
My small legs barely held me, so I often stumbled on potholes on the walkway and a road.
The scratches on my knees were constant and I used to peel at them for fun.
In the second year, comrade teacher Valeria Fidler-ová took us under her wing.
She was a great teacher and I was still ab obedient student at that time, so I don’t remember anything significant from that era.
Maybe I remember only that we were playing with Norika in front of our house.
We were constantly chasing each other, and she almost always ended up winning.
I did not like losing.
Even if we got into a scuffle because of it she has almost always won in that anyways.
She took my hands and spun me so hard that I have fallen like a pear.
I did not like the humiliation but winning against her was beyond what my powers allowed.
Even my brother Peter was slowly growing up.
What was fun that across the street there lived sisters (with surname) Dlhé and they have thought that my brother was my sister for a long time.
The blonde curly hair and feminine clothing did its magic.
It was so up until “Day D” came and they asked my mother about it.
She proudly lifted brothers’ gown and shown them his private parts.
It was very shameful, but my mother made fun of it and the neighbors ended up surprised.
There came time for Peter to enroll into his first year of the elementary school as well.
His experience did not go as well as mine.
After just few days, he told me with tears in his eyes that there was a boy in his class who wanted to hurt him.
I would have none of it.
I would wait for the boy nicknamed “American” near the church and punch him.
And maybe that was a time where a great start of a friendship with my brother has started.
As a third year student my grades went downhill and sometimes I would even bring C on my school report and with that started the hatred of my father for me.
He did not like my grades so he decided that I would be “beaten more than fed” and he meant it literally.
Slowly but surely I started realizing that life won’t be a walk in a park full of blossoming roses…
Continuation of my book ,, Life of one controversial Slovak, a motorcyclist,,
Frantisek Kopacik Bajcsy