‘Day by Day, We Must Work to Preserve Our Hungarian Culture’—An Interview with Anita Pfeifer, Former KCSP Fellow in Cleveland, Part I
This is a translated and edited version of the original interview published on Pécs University’s website
Antal-Ferencz Ildikó
Born and raised in Munkács, Transcarpathia (Munkachevo, Ukraine), Anita also speaks Ukrainian at native level alongside her native Hungarian. As a student, she experienced defining moments that shaped her sense of Hungarian identity and inspired her to dedicate herself to supporting the Hungarian community in Transcarpathia. At the same time, she believes that culture knows no boundaries. These convictions have guided her work as a teacher, mental health professional and cultural manager, as well as her extensive voluntary activities, including scouting, through which she has now spent several months in the U.S. for the second time.
As far as I know, you’re involved in an extraordinary number of various activities in Transcarpathia. How did these all start?
I have to start quite a long way back—probably when I was in Year 7 at grammar school, when I first encountered scouting, although I had already been actively involved in community life before then, singing in the church choir, for example. As time went on, I gradually took on greater responsibilities within the local Hungarian community. Community has always been enormously important to me. Even as a teenager, I felt a deep sense of responsibility. I realised that if I didn’t contribute my own energy, knowledge and talents, our community wouldn’t survive. Anyone who lives in Transcarpathia—or anywhere outside Hungary as part of a Hungarian minority—will probably understand exactly what I mean. We have to make a conscious effort every day to preserve our Hungarian language and culture. At home and in our Hungarian schools we speak only Hungarian, but the moment we step out into the city to deal with everyday matters, we naturally have to function in another language.
Being Hungarian has always been an integral part of who I am. From an early age, I tried to understand what that identity really meant. While I lived entirely within my own community, everything seemed straightforward, but as soon as I entered Ukrainian environments, I was confronted with the kind of mockery that was quite common—being called a ‘Hungarian goat’, for instance. Relations were certainly not always friendly. Despite this, over time I made Ukrainian friends too. Since I speak Ukrainian at native level, communicating with them has never been difficult for me. Ironically, when I later moved to Hungary, I found myself being called ‘the Ukrainian’ and speaking Hungarian with an ‘accent’. I remember how surprised I was by those remarks. One experience from my teenage years has remained particularly vivid. I took part every year in the Gloria Victis history competition organised by the Rákóczi Association, and my team regularly reached the national finals in Budapest. We studied different historical periods—from the age of Prince Rákóczi to King Matthias Corvinus and his famous Corvina Library, a topic that completely fascinated me. We genuinely enjoyed getting to know the other participants. However, when it came time for the official group photographs, one of the organisers suddenly announced: ‘Now only the Hungarians, please.’ Moments like that shaped my understanding of the world as I was growing up—strengthening my conviction that I, too, had a responsibility towards the Hungarian community to help ensure that Hungarians in Transcarpathia could continue to exist as Hungarians.
I wanted to be able to tell Ukrainians that I’m a Hungarian living in an independent Ukraine. At the same time, I wanted people in Hungary to understand that I’m Hungarian as well. My grandmother was born in Transcarpathia in the 1930s. Since then, the borders around her have changed repeatedly: Czechoslovakia, Hungary, the Soviet Union and finally Ukraine. Yet throughout all those changes, our family has continued to speak Hungarian. My great-grandfather—and later my grandfather—had Swabian roots, which is where my surname comes from. At home they spoke both Hungarian and German. These experiences motivated me to become an active member of my community. I took part in everything I could, from poetry recitation competitions and history contests to academic competitions of every kind—I sang, played the guitar and devoted myself wholeheartedly to scouting.
What were the main reasons behind your career choice?
When I first considered studying medicine, my main motivation was the desire to choose a profession where I could help people. I wanted to stay in Transcarpathia and pursue higher education there. Unfortunately, there is no Hungarian-language medical program in the region; medicine can only be studied in Ukrainian. I considered moving to Lemberg (Lviv); I’d have been accepted there, but I eventually enrolled in the Ferenc Rákóczi II Hungarian College, where I studied biology in a teacher-training program. The profession of a biology teacher is closely connected to medicine and helping others.
While I was still studying, I began working for Saint Martin Caritas as a grant coordinator, where I spent five years coordinating projects alongside my teaching career. I was responsible for supporting educational institutions, managing grant applications and financial reporting for Catholic kindergartens across Transcarpathia and was also responsible for the operation of the dormitory at Saint Stephen Lyceum in Munkács.
After graduating, I returned to my alma mater, where I fully embraced teaching. I immediately became a homeroom teacher, welcoming my very first class of seventh graders. My colleagues—my former teachers—and they received me with warmth, generosity, and genuine support. Having such an encouraging community made an enormous difference at the beginning of my career. Together with my students, we prepared for academic competitions and celebrated many excellent results. My colleagues recognized my openness to innovation and my willingness to contribute to the development of our school. We implemented several environmental education projects and a successful school outreach program designed to encourage families to choose Hungarian language education as we were increasingly confronted with the reality that many families were moving to Hungary in search of better opportunities, while others chose Ukrainian-language schools to make social integration easier.
You have never stopped studying either.
After some time, I felt a strong desire to continue my own education, so I completed a master’s degree in Biology and Ecology. By then I was deeply committed to teaching and even more involved in community service, yet I still felt that something was missing. I wanted to build meaningful relationships with my students and be capable of providing emotional support—something many young people, especially in recent years, haven’t always received at home for various reasons. I also believe that self-awareness and personal growth are essential parts of being a positive role model, especially these days in Transcarpathia. These two motivations ultimately led me to enroll in the Mental Health Counselling programme offered by Károli Gáspár University of the Reformed Church in Hungary, which also launched a satellite programme in Beregszász. My master’s thesis explored the psychological background of career choice. As part of the practical component of my research, I developed and delivered career guidance workshops in small groups outside regular school hours, focusing not only on career planning but also on helping students develop greater self-awareness, reflect on their strengths, and better understand themselves.
Once I had finished my mental health training, I realised there was still much more I wanted to learn. I became increasingly interested in pursuing a PhD that would combine biology and psychology. I also knew that a mental health qualification alone wouldn’t be enough for this, so, two years ago, I applied for another Master’s degree, this time in Psychology, at the Mykhailo Drahomanov Ukrainian State University, where the programme was taught in Ukrainian. Admission also required thorough preparation, but travelling to Kyiv was considerably easier than travelling regularly to Hungary. I’ve recently completed my state examinations, I’m now qualified as a Clinical Psychologist. This means I can run a private practice and also teach psychology. At one point there were plans to establish an undergraduate psychology programme at the Hungarian college in Transcarpathia… I hope one day the programme will be established, and I’d gladly become part of the preparatory and teaching staff.
What was it like studying in Kyiv and writing your dissertation in the U.S.? What did you write about, and when did you find the time for it?
Those became my evening and night-time projects while being a KCSP scholar in Cleveland, OH. Fortunately, modern technology makes staying connected much easier than before. One remarkable aspect of the programme was that there were around eighty students altogether, and nearly seventy per cent of my classmates were scattered across the world—from Japan to Sweden, almost every continent was represented, and our lecturers showed enormous flexibility—not only because of our geographical locations, but also because of the realities of the war. Classes and examinations were frequently postponed, because Kyiv was under missile attack or because air-raid alerts and power cuts made it impossible for lecturers to connect online. Despite all of this, everyone remained determined to study and continue living as normally as possible. Many of my fellow students specialised in military psychology and planned to support members of the armed forces. Others focused their research on the psychological consequences of war and on providing professional support for both soldiers and civilians affected by the conflict. Two members of our class were themselves serving in the military and occasionally joined lectures directly from their deployment. In fact, it became almost routine for us to begin our classes by checking whether everyone was still alive and asking how each person had survived the previous night’s bombardments. Those classmates gave me tremendous strength. They were studying tirelessly while living under constant missile attacks, and there were times when they submitted their assignments before I did—even though I was physically safe in America. Of course, being safe physically didn’t mean being untouched emotionally. Like everyone back home, I’ve found the past few years psychologically exhausting.
My dissertation examined the relationship between career guidance and wartime conditions. The war has fundamentally changed the way young people make decisions about their futures. An increasing number of young people leave Ukraine because they no longer see opportunities for themselves at home. Many suddenly find themselves studying at universities abroad, in unfamiliar cultures and often without speaking the local language. Those circumstances create an enormous number of stress factors, each of which requires careful psychological support. At the same time, many students decide to remain in Ukraine. One of my own graduating students enlisted in the army. Others are drafted through compulsory mobilisation. Who, if not a teacher with psychological training, is in the best position to help young people navigate these challenges?… That desire to help has remained my greatest motivation throughout my career.
Let’s talk about scouting as it still plays a significant role in your life.
I first joined Scouting in 2007. I became a patrol leader and later completed the assistant scout leader training in 2012. After that I took on an active leadership role within the No. 1 Ilona Zrínyi Scout Troop in Munkács, helping to organise activities throughout the year—camps, Scout Days, fundraising balls and countless other events. One of our favourite initiatives, inspired by American Scouts, was a biscuit sale. We baked cakes and biscuits ourselves and sold them on the streets, raising both funds and awareness for scouting.
Gradually I also assumed responsibilities at the association level. Initially I served on the training team for leadership camps, although mostly behind the scenes, as my teaching career and later my work at the Hungarian House demanded much of my time. Even so, I never left scouting. Last autumn, the Executive President of the Hungarian Scout Association of Transcarpathia stepped down, and at the General Assembly I received the highest number of votes and was elected the new Executive President, serving as the President’s deputy. My responsibilities include administration, representing the Association, developing partnerships and helping shape the overall strategic direction of scouting throughout Transcarpathia. I have many plans; one of my priorities is to strengthen mental health support within scouting as well.
At the moment, however, our greatest challenge is simply survival. Thankfully, we still have scout troops, camps and programmes. This July we organised a camp for thirty young people. Since nobody volunteered to cook, I took on the job myself. Sometimes that’s what being a scout leader means. As one of our Scout Laws says: ‘A scout is always ready to help.’ As adults, remaining actively involved in scouting demands increasing personal sacrifice. We all have jobs and families to support. Yet, thankfully, we still have dedicated volunteers willing to offer their time. Everyone works entirely voluntarily, and many leaders contribute not only their time and energy, but also their own financial resources to keep scouting alive. When a child runs up to you after camp and says, ‘That was the best camp ever!’ or ‘The paprikáskrumpli was delicious!’, suddenly it no longer matters that you peeled thirty kilos of potatoes by hand. Most importantly, we see the results—how we help young people grow, and how we create a community that gives them a place where they truly belong.
How did you become involved in the leadership of the Hungarian House?
In June 2021, the Mihály Munkácsy Hungarian House opened as a cultural centre. It’s a beautiful, carefully restored former bank building dating back to the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, now housing a large event hall with a capacity of 150 people, a fine art gallery and a bank museum. The management committee, consisting of representatives from several Hungarian organisations, announced a vacancy for a cultural manager. I applied, along with twenty other candidates. To my great joy, I was selected. The responsibilities required so much time and energy that I had to reorganise my workload at the school.
When we first sat down with the local leaders to discuss how they imagined the Hungarian House operating, it became clear that there was no concrete vision yet. In practice, we had to build everything from scratch. In September 2021, I organised our first exhibition. Once the Covid-restrictions were finally lifted in December 2021, our programmes began to flourish. Within five years, the Hungarian House has become part of the cultural landscape of Transcarpathia. I’m very happy that today the Hungarian community at Munkács values this place, comes here with enthusiasm, and fills this large hall, even twice a week. Results became visible quickly, however, in February 2022, the war broke out…
How do you remember those first weeks and months of the war?
We woke up one morning to the message that Kyiv was being bombed, and people began rushing towards the border, trying to escape wherever they could. My younger brother and his family were already living in Hungary, so I’d have had somewhere to go. Yet I felt that I had to stay. Several of my colleagues also stayed. We were living in complete uncertainty, having no idea how long the situation would continue or what would happen next. Suddenly all our programmes and plans had to be abandoned. At the same time, we had to encourage ourselves and each other, telling one another that somehow we’d find a way through this and survive the war.
Because the Hungarian House is located in an old building, it has a large air-raid shelter with space for around 88 people. Our first task was therefore to make sure the basement was properly equipped, so that we could welcome people there if an alarm was sounded. During the first air raid alert, fear among people was overwhelming. The streets emptied completely, and nobody knew what awaited us. At the same time, as increasing numbers of internal refugees arrived from eastern Ukraine, we made the apartments of the Hungarian House available to them and tried to provide them with food and other necessities. Later, when the food preparation programme began within the framework of the Hungary Helps initiative, we prepared and delivered 300 portions of hot meals every day to locations where displaced people were staying. When our chef from Hungary returned home for the weekend, I volunteered to prepare one of the meals. Cooking for 300 people was frightening, but there was no alternative. The realisation that people needed us there brought our small team even closer together, despite all the difficulties. Slowly, gradually, life began to return…
How? What is the role of a cultural centre in wartime conditions?
In May 2022, we had already managed to organise an exhibition for refugee artists. A great number of visual artists, sculptors and painters arrived in Transcarpathia; we organised a two-week creative camp for them, and the closing exhibition was held here, at the Hungarian House. Their sculptures and paintings reflected what was happening in our country and how people were experiencing it. We began to hope that we just had to hold on a little longer and that it’d soon be over… Unfortunately, it still hasn’t ended, and we’ve become accustomed to this situation: we started living our lives and organising our programmes in a way that resembles normality as much as possible.
Our task became to make our cultural centre a place where, when people walk through the door, they can leave behind the horrors surrounding them. A place where they can switch off from the internet, from the war, from the constant possibility of an air-raid alert; instead, they can meet other people, talk, and share their thoughts and feelings with one another. We organised many programmes supporting emotional and mental wellbeing. The two-year project of Caritas Slovakia also took place here, focusing specifically on supporting refugees, while we provided the venue. They organised various preparatory and support group sessions for everyone from elderly people to parents and children.
The Hungarian House’s cultural projects also began to gain momentum again. Each year we prepared more than 50 programmes, meaning there was at least one event every week, covering all age groups. We managed to establish very good relationships with many local Hungarian and Hungary-based organisations alike, for example with the Mihály Munkácsy Museum in Békéscsaba, Hungary. Amongst others, we placed great emphasis on preserving the memory of our famous painter Mihály Munkácsy and presenting his legacy in a worthy way.
You said the Hungarian House has another important task. What’s that?
In recent years, many people have probably heard about anti-Hungarian sentiments and incidents, and about attempts to turn the Ukrainian and Hungarian nations against each other. There are indeed many conflicts, and the rights of minorities are indeed being undermined. However, alongside these political issues, I’ve always believed that when two people’s souls, identities and personalities meet, this can transcend the question of which nation they belong to or what language they speak. That’s why the motto behind all the programmes and activities I organised at the Hungarian House has always been: there are no borders in culture. A work of visual art or a painting depicting a Transcarpathian landscape is never exclusively Hungarian or exclusively Ukrainian. Every Transcarpathian artist, even those born into Hungarian families, absorbed the foundations of art at the Uzhhorod Academy of Fine Arts, also learning from Ukrainian teachers. The artists themselves feel this way as well, and I’ve always encouraged those who came here to put aside, for a moment, the question of nationality. Although it may sound like a cliché, it’s true: the more languages you speak, the more different people you can become.
We specifically tried to organise our programmes so that a Hungarian-language event would be accompanied by a Ukrainian-language one as well. All of our events were hosted bilingually: the introductions, the presenting, and the speeches were always delivered in both languages. I consider leading by example extremely important in this regard. Whenever I stood in front of an audience, I spoke in both languages, so that people could see that I was still the same Anita whether I spoke Hungarian or Ukrainian. It was wonderful to see that five years of work had borne fruit: Ukrainians and Hungarians came to our programmes with the same enthusiasm and joy. Sometimes a Hungarian singer or performer would come and sing only in Hungarian, yet among the audience there would still be people whom I knew for certain did not understand a single word of Hungarian — and it was a wonderful surprise that they had come and enjoyed the cultural programme. It was equally uplifting that internal refugees whose mother tongue was entirely Ukrainian also showed interest in specifically Hungarian cultural programmes.
What are your current responsibilities in the Hungarian House?
With the director of the Hungarian House and the current cultural manager, we are writing an almanac-style book about the past five years: how the organisation came into being, where we started and where we’ve arrived. I’m also preparing for our Hungarian-as-a-foreign-language camp, where we try to bring Hungarian culture — art, traditions and heritage — closer to children through playful activities. The aim is to encourage them to become more interested in learning Hungarian. Many of the participating children are entirely Ukrainian-speaking. Last year, for example, I taught them to play the flute. The majority of the approx. 300 students in Munkács come from mixed marriages, and there are also quite a few families where the parents are Ukrainian, but there was a Hungarian grandmother or great-grandmother somewhere in the family. These parents choose Hungarian schooling for their children so that they can learn the language, because this may later give them greater opportunities: the possibility of entering the European Union, studying at a better university, and finding better employment. For them, the Hungarian language is literally and figuratively a stepping stone— an opportunity to move forward.