I am in Budapest, Hungary.  I got here last night after flying from Cairo to Paris and then from Paris to Budapest.  It was a long day with a long layover in Paris and then a long flight delay after that.  But here I am!  Hungary is in the European Union but they still do business with their own currency—the Hungarian florint.  The spoken language and script is Hungarian or Magyar.

Budapest, a city of about two-million, is the capital of Hungary, and, as far as European cities go, it is very beautiful.  It reminds me of both Paris and Vienna with a little bit of Amsterdam thrown in.  English is widely spoken and people are not unfriendly.  Black folks are a rarity here and so far I have only seen about fifteen of us.  Hungary is one of those European nations without an African colonial legacy. 

I was met last night by brother Marc Washington—an American born African teaching English here. He has been here since the early 1990s and seems to like the place.  The other sisters and brothers that I have said hello to are mostly African immigrants and business people.  One sister, from Accra, Ghana, I bumped into wandering in the hotel last night.  She made it very clear to me, if you know what I mean, that she was here doing business!  I wished her well, told her that I was not in Hungary to "do business," and bade her a pleasant evening. 

Some of the Black folk here seem genuinely glad to see you.  Others, when you greet them, kind of give you that "do I know you" look.  One young brother, in particular, was with two young blond white women and when I greeted him he had nothing to say to me.  He acted like he was in Hungarian paradise and simply ignored my presence.

So far I have not run into any clear racism, with one possible exception.  I was on the metro this afternoon and a little white kid pointed at me and said something that he seemed to think was very funny.  The lady next to him, I guess it was his mother, sternly rebuked him.  I did not need a literal translation for me to gather that he was not being complimentary towards me!  Good thing for all of us that whatever he said was in Hungarian. Otherwise, I would have probably wanted to throttle the little brat!  But children learn from adults, don't they?

I saw a lot today.  I started early.  I got directions and instead of jumping into a taxi like I usually do I took the metro.  Actually, it was pretty easy.  My first stop—the Museum of Fine Arts.  It was a good museum with a better than anticipated Egyptian collection.  There were several excellent pieces but two artifacts, in particular, stood out.  The first was an Eighteenth Dynasty sandstone image of a young African woman holding a standard of goddess Hathor.  The other was a stone image of a Ramesside king with dark brown skin and prominent happy to be nappy hair.  Those two pieces alone justified the trip for me.  

I also found a nice marble head of African Roman Emperor Severus Septimius.  There was also a painting of a white woman named Beersheba taking a bath assisted by an African woman servant.  Another interesting painting was of the Spanish saint James depicted conquering the Moors.  Last December while in Sevilla my tour guide affirmed for me that St. James was Spain's most important figure and that the single best way to offend a Spaniard was to disparage his likeness.  In the painting, the Moor under the hooves of St. James' horse is clearly Black.

Probably the most interesting single artifact that I observed in the museum today was a late fifteenth century German painting of the martyrdom of St. Bartholomew.  In the painting he was being seriously scourged by five clearly and distinctly African men.  I mean to tell you that these brothers were really giving him a bad time!  I took photos of everything and hope to share them with you some day.

I also found in the museum an excellent full color post card of a portrait of Duke Alessandro De Medici—the sixteenth century duke of Florence.  In the portrait his African heritage is very prominent.  The actually painting, by Agnolo Bronzino,  is permanently housed in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy.  I bought several of the post cards and left the museum thinking that I had had a very, very good morning.

With the Fine Arts Museum behind me I went in search of my next objective—the Asian Art Museums.  After a meandering walk I found them.  What a disappointment!  Two small rooms that I covered in less than ten minutes.  Even though I had purchased a photo permit there was nothing in the museums that inspired me to even take the camera out of my bag. 

From the Asian museums I got back on the subway and after a short journey found myself on banks of the Danube River.  I had said that I would have lunch on the Blue Danube and this was my chance.  So I found a rather expensive Hungarian restaurant and requested a menu.  I settled for a chicken steak with vegetables and sour cream, a strong Hungarian beer, and some sparkling Hungarian mineral water.  It was delicious.

Just across the river from the restaurant stands Castle Hill—a huge limestone block that dominates the twin cities of Buda and Pest.  This was my next destination and specifically a place called Matthias Church.  I just couldn't figure out how to get up there.  I asked three or four people and they told me to take a train to the bridge, find a bus or walk across, and then climb up the hill.  I looked at all of them like I thought that they were insane and took a taxi!  It seemed to me that only a lunatic would do as they suggested, especially the part about climbing the hill!  

On Castle Hill I wanted to visit Matthias Church as my research suggested that there was a statue of a Black Madonna there.  Unfortunately, I found that the statue is in the church museum and this was closed for renovation.  So I had to settle for a photo of it which I found in a book.  I actually think that the statue is really only a copy of the Black Madonna statue at Loreto, Italy.  But at least I got the photo.

My last stop this afternoon was the National Gallery.  Unfortunately, I did not find anything even remotely African in it.  And that was basically my day. 

I am a little tired and both my feet and my knees are sore from all of that walking.  But I am pretty pleased with myself.  It is just five o'clock and I am thinking of what else I might do today.  Right now I have a wonderful view of the Danube and a beautiful hotel room to read, write, and relax in.  Tomorrow I am going to try to take a train or even a bus across Hungary's northern border to Bratislava, Slovakia.  There is another museum there with an Egyptian collection and I hear it calling me.  If I make it that will be country number ninety for me as I count up to one-hundred nations that I have journeyed through in search of the African presence.  So keep your fingers crossed for me and perhaps I will have another story or two for you in your next email.

Life is good and I am feeling most fortunate.

In love of Africa, Runoko Rashidi Okello, in search of the African presence in East-Central Europe.

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posted 6 August  2008