A Day in the Country

Untitled Part 1

Andrzej Bursa's A Day in the Country

Once a year in the town of Lipplass, inhabited by speakers of Old High Lusatian, the men go off for a day to the nearby oak forest to drink beer, play chess, billiards and cards (low stakes only- Lipplassians are careful with money) or fish in the mill pond. In their absence, a war breaks out.

By that time, plenty of ultimatums, notes and warnings have been issued:

I am young

I am getting old

I must be allowed

It is my right

My sister in law is rotten

My daughter in law terrorises me

My mother in law is a tyrant

My pan

Your pot

My comb

Your eyes

My husband

Your lover

All day long battles are fought on barricades constructed from sideboards and clocks. First come the provocative skirmishes. The most shapely and the least shapely ladies in town place themselves in prominent positions, push out their bums, tits and legs and start trading ugly insults. When a pebble, well-aimed by that bitch Zalasova, hits the jutting butt of Miss Haase, the slaughter begins. The weaponry consists of domestic utensils as well as teeth and fingernails. Mainly fingernails, because prior to departure the men lock up the arsenal and even Roman the policeman (the only male left behind to guard the peace) is armed with a wooden gun. He sits at the police station behind a door blocked by a table and tries to make phone contact with the district command.

-Reporting for duty... Reporting for duty ... Reporting for duty - he speaks into the deaf receiver from time to time.

The chief of police, driving out of town at dawn, accidentally on purpose cuts the cable connecting Lipploss to the district. The many casualties include a few dead bodies.

Only the children are safe despite being present in great numbers at the hottest battle spots. If one of the furious harpies knocks over a mother and baby, she hurries back home to change the child's nappy. The woman who has hit a child, anyone's child, is torn to pieces.

Such fate once befell Iza, a student, a girl both modern and aloof. No sooner had the twenty-one -year -old Janek managed to wipe away his tears than the body of the female intellectual was robbed of its form and shape.

In the evening there is much weeping and wailing and the battles cease. The women fix their hair, help one another carry the sideboards back in and cook supper for their husbands.

In most cases however the food remains uneaten. Befuddled by the long day of leisure, smelling of beer, wind and cigars, the men are soon fast asleep.