61 years later, French nuclear radiation returned to China with sandstorms

Sandstorms from North Africa swept across France in February, and the orange sky was described as “the end of the world.” According to a report by the French “La West” on March 1, nuclear radiation 61 years ago followed.

Researchers in eastern France have found higher than normal levels of cesium 137 (a nuclear radiation element that has serious harm to humans) in sand and dust samples. Because the rocks and dunes of the Sahara Desert do not have this radioactive element, the French Western Radiological Control Association believes that “this is the product of nuclear fission explosion.”

According to reports, France conducted its first nuclear test in February 1960, and since then it has conducted 3 aerial explosions and 13 underground explosions. Nuclear radiation expert Barbe believes that it is certain that the cesium-137 detected this time came from a nuclear test 61 years ago. The Algerian side also stated that France must assume historical responsibility and clean up the old nuclear test site.

It would be reckless to ask us: is there a man? so we just ask: is there a Hungarian in this homeland who would not have been in Debreczen once in his life? Debrecen is a famous Hungarian city on the Tisza; but still we believe that there are such Hungarians, and there are still many such Hungarians. And is there a Hungarian in this country who has not wished? would you go to Debreczen once in your life? It will be so, though for a million, though much less than those above. It is our word, but this would be the Mecca in Debrecen, where every Hungarian should have to make a pilgrimage at least once in his life for enthusiasm and strengthening, and for all non-Hungarians to gain the belief that there are indeed Hungarians in the world. Or not? Or maybe Pest? Oh! leave the Pest served to us unceasingly, which has its own merit, but in this respect they can by no means match Debreczen. The whole Hungarianness of Pest is beautiful-44-would fit in Debrecen in Péterfia, although this Péterfia is only one street of the great Debreczen. This is a huge city of its kind! Its boundary is 14 square miles, so big that the whole of the Tournament would be different, I could even comfortably stretch it out, similarly an army of German status would only feel on it like an island in the great sea.

There has been much talk and writing about this city since it has been, especially strange; and it is true that this city of Debrecen is a bit strange for a city of 50,000 inhabitants; but my Quran is not as terrible as it is proclaimed nationally and worldwide. However, it is perhaps this exclamation that is caused by the fact that all those who visit Debreczen for the first time do not usually find it as horrible as I imagined after the speeches of others or in your travels through Böszörmény and Dorog. I’ve always heard that it’s good to paint the devil in awful black before us: that’s what happens after we come before our eyes, we just find it brown. By the way, the main merit of this city, as everyone knows, lies in the fact that it is a deep-rooted Hungarian and an undiminished homeland of Hungarian customs and originals. It is quite a problem that this is a merit in Hungary; but what can we do about our ancestors not being as deep-sighted politicians as their grandchildren? Oh, those honest ancestors, may God reassure them! then in another world he will meet them with us -45-and trouble. Only then do I not know how we will be in a matter of rhetoric and courage, if in such a thunderous voice and with such a world of Hungarianness as po this “My Latiatuc halves zumtuchel, mic vogmuc, ysa pur es chomuv uogmuc” address us with a mace-laden.

If I say above that Debrecen should still be our Mecca: the more rightly we will be able to say this in just a tenth. The railway is being built, more attention is being paid to Debreczen than ever before, and in a few years an unknown life will seep into it, a larger movement, and if God wants it, it will attack greater material well-being, and the fabric of culture and civilization will flare up, so: city, if I may say so, will take on a European level. And we ask modestly: will there still be Debrecen without the press and magazines, as it is now? will our writers still reside exclusively in Pest, in this jumble of all national elements? will they be able to say that there are no opportunities to hear and learn the pure, unadulterated Hungarian language? will they dare even if they are self-constructed, to distort our simple language from foreign lips, with clichéd utterances without reason and intellect, in order to create a subtle lake of conversation abroad? will our novelists and playwrights still have a complaint that there is no greater specific Hungarian life that they could take as a model in their dissertations? will we believe them -46-Hungarian speaking of persons whom their works in front of us maintains not only the book, but in life, in reality they could? and will they still be forced to make the foreigner the scene of larger complications and draw foreign objects and persons in front of us? will it be said that even if there is Hungarian life in this homeland, it is only found in the countryside, but that this rural Hungarian life is so small, so eternally the same and boring, how to put a higher world of poetry into it with only ridicule and determined effort? – Yes, we like to believe that it will all be different once in a while, and that for the most part Debreczen is reserved for the glory, to help with all these troubles and needs, and to give voice to the Hungarian world, after which that relentless plague, but still so little. to the port of national autonomy and greatness approached. It doesn’t even occur to us to think that Debreczen will ever surpass Pest, which has already been created larger due to its natural location; but we do believe that despite the future of the deep-rooted Hungarian Debrecen, Pest, flooded with foreign elements, in matters of nationality , it must be guarded strictly so that this treasure, which has struggled with the most precious and difficult battles, cannot be threatened even from afar. It is now impossible to demand such things from Debreczen: because others have already said that the current Debrecen is a big-47- nothing, of which, however, a mighty creative hand can form much, the whole world.

So Debrecen needs attention. For the same reason, we took the liberty to travel a little with those who had never been here before, and who wished to come here once in a while, and no more than to give some small descriptions of the public social life of Debrecz. Although many who meet with as pure zeal as we do, try to warn those with more open hands and more important words to whom it is in their interests and duties to move things forward. We do not attach such importance to our unassuming words. And with this humble statement, the guiding thread of an inadvertently lengthy introduction is immediately broken.

“Give him your weak arm,
Let him control you! ”

And you, my bland reader, join us, light it, if you like, on the domestic cigar that you just smoked as a foreigner: I’ll tell you when to put it down. So follow me, I will be the yarn of Ariadne that will lead you into a great multitude. And if, fortunately, only some of the monsters in this crowd could be exterminated by our very meek visit, we would be more grateful than we once were in the direction of Crete Theseus for freeing it from the Minotaur.

It’s a clear summer afternoon. You’re just not going to ask us about the chivalry of being led to walk in boreal or muddy weather, what about Debreczen? So the sun is clearly shining from the endless sky to the great Great Plain, which expands in eternal silence and tiring uniformity in the Canaan of our country, where our panther-skinned ancestors were lured by thirst for milk and hunger for honey (if true) from the destroyed land of paradise, our sheepskin compatriots quench their thirst with wine and their hunger with bacon, sausage and goulash. But since it is necessary for us to choose a certain starting point to start our great journey, follow me with a big leap of your imagination to this place in Debrecen’s only nightclub, the great forest.. It’s about a quarter of an hour away from the city, and it’s really a place for any man, any-49-let him come to Debreczen from all over the world, because of his desperation over the barrenness of the surrounding countryside, he did not believe that he could be invented. And as it is true: it is also true that I do not yet have a particularly beautiful and rare phenomenon. He would like to be a city park in Pest or Bratislava, but like in many other things, we have won very little with mere will.

In this strict sense, the great forest, the actual great forest, is at the beginning of Debreczen; and its components are: a fairly nicely built bathroom and in connection with it a tap, a drinking trough and an oatmeal, where one can bathe if there is a place, eat if food, and drink a good drink. Otherwise, they do not yet know very well what comfort and preventive, accurate service are; this part of the party also bears the stamp of the inns of the Great Plain, where one thrives on fine words rather than money, and where one can feast very well if one has brought and prepared the ones belonging to the feast for oneself. There are also natural reasons for this, the main one being that the audience educated in Debreczen and “fruges consumere natum” is very small, and – let me call it that – civil spirit, whose life needs are so very small, and which is happy to say that “we can only live in the way of a poor person!” -50-it is difficult to change the way of life inherited from his father. However, perhaps we will talk more about this below.

In a handsome little park, which, however, belongs to a private man, and to another park, which was recently made for public use, and in which they wanted to meet the very noticeable need for cold bathing by setting up a water shower in Priznicz, there is nothing here, our human hands are careful it would point to its care, if only in front of the guest house, quite chipped and not yet new and short row of trees is counted here. The rest of what we have is all natural forest; but getting into and walking in it cannot be worse for a man from Szabolcs than for one who comes to the Saharan oasis. Plant-rich space and good water: where it is in Hortobágy, there is an oasis in Hortobágy. And since Debrecen was on the rise, or since the Turks dug out of the countryside, only something else could have happened here that would make it desirable to spend time here.

Every Monday, on Pentecost, the not-so-famous, rather unparalleled, numerous and unique folk revelations take place here, where 10, 12 thousand Hungarians with deep roots, if not more, drink and cheer together in a relaxed company. It happens on Pentecost Monday. And on Pentecost Tuesday, the wonder is amazed that one half of the reveling population, during the historically famous operation of a number of leaded and unleaded whistles like my husband, did not send his soul to graze on the green lawn; and the other half is wine-51-in the bottomless vortex of jugs he found no miserable appearance. A detailed description of this amusement is left to more objective hands. – On Sundays, those who are otherwise in work and occupation all week long come out here; and most of all they come out here because they can’t go anywhere else. He does not accommodate his three “foals” in his ecko (mat-covered) chariot, not a civic citizen, he implants his civas and family pleasures, not otherwise family gourmets, indispensable home and travel furniture, hollow bottles; and when they come out, they settle in the shade of a field tree, and until the water bottle dries out and the hens do not sit at home, there is fun and rage! In Pest, this is called green fun.

But we, as in all travels, want to observe the ordinary course of things here, and not the extremes of order, we make our pilgrimage here on a weekday. And then, as you can see, the great Debreczen has very few people out here, but what it does have is from the more cultured, upscale audience of the city in a nutshell, or, if you like, from its sour cream and flavor. Let’s look around a bit in this sour cream and flavor.

There, 5-6 ladies walk among the trees, though they are pretty ladies, and not only pretty, but also Hungarians, not in the common sense, but Hungarians par excellence. Next to them and with them are two lions: one with a brown, the other with a blonde purse; one -52-low, another high; one fidgeting like a butt, another serious like a thug; one is always laughing and pondering, the other is constantly humming and turbulent, and he wants to suck honey words out of every alfalfa blossom in the forest. But what can they do about being blessed by nature with a separate interior and exterior? and, after all, such clear contradictions only nurture the interest of the company. We cannot look after the content of your speeches, we do not care about your identity, we, unpretentious wanderers, do not care; we only pay attention to the language of their conversation, and this is another tasting Hungarian. But how could it be otherwise? A few miles away from the young men are two ladies of decent age and of considerable expanse – mothers or guard ladies – amused by a lord of this age, but of a slightly smaller size, which we suspect from the innumerable good-natured laughter. This ur you or bachelor, or a widow, or she would have a hard time putting her head on such great things. They speak Old Testament Hungarian.

As the youngsters move forward, in the thicket of the trees, they meet a third lion, who may have been lounging in the woods for a long time, sometimes by chance, in the midst of an innocent pastime, hajh! we could wait awkwardly for the meeting, and we could hover in front of the windows of his soul, wandering around with his earthly charm… he!… already that he!

“I kiss their hands, my locusts!” – Of these three words, the world does not understand anything, -53-but we still understand from them that the one who told them is a “noble” boy from a more upscale house, and a loved one who used to turn around in the salons of Debrecen. Our lion escorted these three words into the air with a general compliment for the whole company, which the locusts and small locusts complimented, except for one who inadvertently turned back, covering his face with his handkerchief, as if wiping from the bath that he ran away right away. Yet “resist,” says Urfi Lajos in the “Runaway Soldier.”

“I instaled a nice little place among them” to continue the lion fried so sweet and such a failing of arczizmokkal soft voice, as if he were afraid or certainly know that instálása not teljesittetik. Then the newcomer arsenal stretched out his hands and thrust him into the grips of the two naturalized arsonists, and three grin-counted friendly handshakes followed, during which the white jaquemares left over from the multi-carnival balls and washed clean for ten pennies also opened. white leaves of yellow tulips.

“Welcome, my bruderk!” Thus the gnarled lion opened his greeting lips; and in this beautiful ” bruderkám ” among us who Debreczen ” sour cream are one” (to the extent you, how are the people we can kaputos), have something atyafiságos solicitation; at least we are not used to it-54-with him honors any son. “Why didn’t you come first? He continued with noble resentment. “We’re having fun here all afternoon.” We ice cream the imine, then he ordered it3) the fried chicken, which will not be ready for a long time, and where are you with us, my bruderk? I know you didn’t eat as well, István, like this one, hehehe! (The naughty arsenal cut a mischievous moment between the lion’s eyes of Stephen, so that one of the ladies gave himself the blush again.) let’s play! And I have an idea that we will have a great time today. ”

We ask for permission, but we are forced to stay even longer than this speech, because it is a rare thing and unusual in Debreczen that this arslan spoke. To be out , though to be out all afternoon! Then what are the novel homesteads, those manure-smelling ancient Tusculans? what have they done that on such a beautiful summer day they do not visit where so many beautiful radishes grow, so many chickens run around and so many salads are headed! This is special! Ice cream ! Let anyone look around the Debrecen ski area to see if they will soon see water for something that could freeze during the winter, and supply the piles of two confectioners with ice, and then say that ice cream is not uncommon.-55- Fried chicken in the big forest! It is as if the courtyard of every God-given house in Debreczen is not full of small cattle, and it is as if the world of Debrecen has to go out into the big forest to eat fried chicken, even though every farmer can make it more economically and tastefully at home. And even that shampootufted, paid for three pengő forints, one pengő forint of Prešov champagne! Our ungodly intention has taken root in the boobs of lava, oh! arslans who want to spoil the public opinion of Debreczen with a blow, which proudly holds that in summer there is no more glorious drink than vinco grown in the sandy land of your homeland and mixed with sululin sour water, alias: garden wine, which only squeezes books out of your trash to show how “the Hungarian cheers when weeping.”

We will also be filled with noble anger against you, we will leave you with your plans to move the big tree, and we will move towards our great goal, turning our faces to Debreczen, the rare phenomenon. We are now among the rows of trees already affected and stretching in front of the guest house, from which good intentions, the will to move forward and the pursuit of great goals stand out. Perhaps these will be the days of great days, on which, with piously crowned, ornately dreamed crowns on their heads, they will be able to splurge. But it is as if juvenile daydreams, which rarely come true, most often look like them.-56-and they fail. The sand in which we walk between these rows of trees reaches only to the ankles; but in addition, God created lucrative wastelands, fattened goulash, and fat barns, with the fat of which the dusty sand could be smeared with butcher’s trousers: He also created the legs above God’s ankles, which take the head and soles below the ankles out of such a dry bath. .

Ah! but what pleasant sounds crack through the air behind us? what flow of “melodic” vocals restrains our footsteps arbitrarily? If you, my beautiful companion, do not mind, let us wait for these large forest snaps to unfold more from the thickets of the trees. And here comes the lively army of cheerleaders, consisting of 40-50 young men, and here come the trubadours, walking in trot, blazing for their homeland and love, in pairs and fits. On the forefront of this army are a two-row captain, captain, trousers, and boots, dislocated (occasionally “haysters,” and by this and higher resolution and ancient custom, probably the first eminents); the other crews do not need all of this, wide-brimmed hats, loose pants and bare feet make up for that. We all say “ Fót song ,” or “God forbid that the Hungarian , ”or the“ Homeland is unshakable , ”or a beautifully flowing folk song , or another such song , measured according to their perception , is sung , and quite precisely, because-57-in schools, natural singing is no small concern. Next to you, then, as the common good desires, he will step forward, “sadly forgotten, alone as an eagle,” the soulful, always vigilant runner of the intellectual flame of a serious young man’s army, Mr. Préczeptor., since the last big ribillion, no longer in a toga, but only in a simple black jacket and under a tall hat of the same color. A pipe sticks out of an opening not far from the flange of the hat, to which he lends the measure from the length of his longest pupil. His lips open only at the gesture of the shields, or when the wheel-cutting is lost from sight in the rumble, which a small wind in the sand can easily cause, and then opens the throat of the préczeptor lord, which is widened by the psalms, and immediately guiding cellos sound, on which the trees drop their leaves and fly away from the embrace of the sons of the mother sparrow. As soon as the army reaches us, the singing ceases, and the first couple begins to lift their caps, by whose example those after them also vent their heads; also the first couple begins their ‘slave, Which then, according to a learned song, runs through the whole army in pairs, as if a string smeared with bacon was pulled through each man’s mouth, and his pleasant “subservient” would end his career on this. This student army hides from the afternoon walk home, and we also follow in slow steps.-58-

We reach a gate, and on both sides of it, a ditch of inaccessible expanse, through which a canopy of God’s free sky, enjoying the free sky of God, is kept in a hiding place under the gate, full of thatched roofs. And here is the end of the great forest , that is, the beginning, and in front of us there is a larger sand sandwiched between rows of trees. Two notices are glued to the gate: one is a shooting and hunting ban, the other is a statarian advertisement. The latter is printed on huge squares in huge letters on the occasion of the Pentecostal folk party touched above, and illuminated at dusk – they are not used to it; only the whistles of the entertaining guests and the lead-laden with suspicion are picked up. That’s enough to make him happy.

Along the rows of trees that we are now passing by, there are grid-separated gardens that, in just two years, have enchanted the previously barren and barren sands of some enthusiastic citizens. And here it is visible how these citizens have sacrificed the public interest by clearly risking private interests. And the rarer in such a speculative world of selfishness such sacrifice, the more commendable this company, and the more desirable it is to find as many imitators of this noble example as to turn the other mere side of the rows into pretty gardens, even more pleasing to the eye, as before.

Now a carriage rode past us, that is: -59-he would have scooted if he could have scooted because of the soft sand, and I wouldn’t have been forced to poke just softly as the love songs of some of our poets. In the carriage sat a uri man, comfortably spread out, and with homely dexterity he smoked out the huge smoky smoke he had smoked on his cigar, which perhaps no more inhabited him at the time of inhalation, what could be called a spirit and not a body. As he passed us, he just took his cigar out of his mouth with one hand so that we would have a chance to see the brilliant hoops drawn on one of his hands; with his other hand, however, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled a small cylinder watch out of it. And we lived in the blissful belief that we were lucky for a more upscale, brighter Debrecen arslan. Ah, but what a patriarch! On the side of the carriage are red numbers written in red; insignificant signs of a certain class of towing and wading people pass through the high jacket, even higher head and highest capped white hat of the driver; one horse, which is gray, also the other, which has pei side ribs, has a stubborn gait. This is probably fiakker – and you, my gentle readers, are asking with trembling joy: so is it really Fiakker from Debrecen? thus, in Debreczen, too, the beneficial radius of civilization is so wide that in its streets, not considering mud or sand, red fiakker carriages roar, and with courageous determination drive them to the obstacle in the way, be it a child, young, male, old or unprotected.-60-female animal? And these questions come to be answered, and the charms of the momentary illusion vanish. The rental car, the carriage and the horse, I am not from Debrecen, but a phenomenon straight from Pest, which brought some money to Debreczen several days ago, and now it takes a few days to find a return trip, when anyone can use it for smaller trips if you pay. There is also admiration and wonder on the streets afterwards! And that brilliant arslan – “who is he and where is his homeland?” After all, if this borderless and much-visited Debreczen has only two obscure ones, and only one of them has a guest who deserves to be looked at by an honest person, then you can only gain such radiance effects on its main main cellar. By the way, the fact that he is Debreczen’s greatest lion, that is, no one will doubt it, it is a pity to waste a word.

Debreczen has a large collegium, a lot of student youth in it; it is natural, therefore, that on the way we meet some more prestigious muse sons, who make their way into the great forest during loud noises, hahota and whimsical cooking, where if they feel good and maybe find gypsies, they will surely have fun, dance and drink wine; by the way, with the exception of a small whimper, they wear their seeds quietly, which whip fits among the inspiring voices of Hungarian music as well as – not to say big and incompetent – the mustache-61-under the sniffing of the table judges. This mustache, if you never move it, always seems to scream, especially if the ointment is not soaked on it. The student from Debrecen is no longer like the old chronicles paint. “He’s degenerated, he’s gone!”

There are many more people passing by on our way. In Debreczen, as in most of the Great Plain settlements, there are usually wells with better drinking water in all directions outside the city, and since the artesian well dug in the middle and in the middle of the city is farther away than the wells outside the city for almost a quarter of an hour. the roads leading to it are always seen full of water-bearing individuals. This is also the case on the road to the great forest. Girls, bridesmaids, mothers come and go with their brown stone jars, then quiet and sad “holy alone in reality,” then quiet and sad company. No one would believe how phlegmatic and drowsy this Debrecen woman was as a girl: even if she took off her party and became a civá! Then he walks halfway, as tight, grim, and measured, as if he were always going to church, which undoubtedly has a good side, except that this inherited gloom does almost nothing more than: oriental indolentia, which it would not hurt to replace with a slightly more agile liveliness. Lest you ever hear someone enthusiastically shouting a folk song on the tracks leading to this well! This is never, or very rarely-62-happens. De ime! we see ourselves lying. The sounds of a folk song are those that crack a short distance from us, from the shorter, dragon-like hairs grown under the nose, and in addition to wheel squeak, horse-swing and rib-puff accompagnement, they affect our ears with these words:

“There is no hay, no abrac,
Ides my horse, my bastard! ”Etc.,
which words, moreover, still operate with a rare lifelike and unpretentious feeling, as it is occasionally rare for a poet to have so truly and faithfully found his innermost emotional voice in someone as the man who wrote the song above. And who is this man? and what is this phenomenon? In a riddle told in Debreczen, we discover before our readers, which reads:

“I have two wheels,
Civis is in it,
A horse pulls very,
Stallion hit me to death. ”
There is perhaps no more modest and simpler means of transport in the world than the wheelbarrows of Debrecen; however, their owners (who are under the drivers lurking in the market) are relatively in competition with any of the proclaimed Pest sons – in modesty. On the squeaking wheelbarrow in front of us, an empty barrel rattles, which is also carried into the water by the wheelbarrow that is disgusted by the water. The world is made up of such contradictions.-63-

But, thank God! we are already at the rough wooden grate set between the two trenches, called the city ​​gate , and in one of the two columns of which the serious advertising lines of the statarium are once again stuck. We now say goodbye to the gatekeeper smoking in the hut next to the door for the passengers and to the brothers who are with him, which the guard greets with a cold gloom and looks first at the neighboring thatched roofs, then at our cigars burning in the company of ideas.

And now we are in the great Debreczen, my gentle travelers!