Cabbage, Strudel & Trams is a humorous coming-of-age story depicting the trials and tribulations of an ordinary Czech family living in a small mining town in communist Czechoslovakia in the early 1980s, their escape to West Germany and their resettlement in Australia.

 Chapter one in which Uncle Stan decides to search for greener pastures

I knew Vendula was special the moment I saw her. Clutching a ladybug in her chubby little fist, Vendula sat in the meadow full of blooming daisies. A drunken bumblebee made her laugh, her voice, like silver bells covered with snow, chimed a quiet, pretty tune. I was enchanted and decided to stay. 

     At first, living with Vendula was plain sailing. Luck had always followed her like a puppy on a leash. A skip and a sniff and a leg up every so often, we knew where we were going. Vendula, a ballerina in a paper weight world, sailed through life as if every day was a walk through a rose garden where friends gathered like fluffy clouds. But then the summer of ‘79 rolled in and overnight things started to go pear-shaped.

     First there was puberty. It came upon us suddenly, like a runaway train, bringing boys, breasts and training bras to cause havoc amongst Vendula’s friends who bloomed alarmingly in the most obvious places while Vendula doodled with her fountain pen.

     Let’s chuck a waterbomb on the footpath, she offered blissfully when the girls came to hang out.

     Oh, Vendula. Tsk. Tsk. You’re such a child. Smokes were lit. Heads were shaken. It seemed that a new attitude, new rules of conduct, had sprung up amongst the girls like mushrooms after rain when Vendula wasn’t looking.

     Then Sylvie, Vendula’s bestest friend ever, moved away to Cured Ham. Yes, Cured, of all places. Like a stunned pig Vendula sat there when Sylvie told her. I’m moving to Cured Ham. Vendula keeled over. You can’t be, she stammered in disbelief, but Sylvie shrugged. That’s the way it is. Sylvie moved away, leaving a hole the size of the whole world. Of course, the girls wrote a while but you know how it is. Out of sight, out of mind; the friendship died a Cured Ham death.

     To top it all, Uncle Stan defected to West Germany, causing a religious conversion in the process. True, the fashion of the day dictated that every thinking, progressive human bean make a stand against the commies; Mother, however, didn’t see it that way when Uncle Stan first called with the news in the middle of the night.   

     ‘You what?!’ Mother shouted, descending upon the telephone like a plague of locusts. ‘Dee-fected?’

     We clustered around. A hush of biblical proportions fell as with bated breath we hovered over the receiver like the three wise men over baby Jesus. Mother, for once speechless, listened to the steady flow of Uncle Stan’s words. I’m not comin’ back, sis. I’ve had a gutful of it. All them effin queues and what the fuck for? A miserable loaf of bread and a piece of cheese if you’re lucky. That’s not the way I wanna live. Fuck the communists, they can build their effin communism without me. On and on he went, venting to Mother who gradually lost all colour and sat there gaping wordlessly, as white as a ghost. Indeed, in the feeble light of the night lamp, she looked a fright with her plastered down hair, wide open mouth and bulging eyes, and for a moment she appeared to be frozen in time. Eventually, though, she began to show signs of life. She made a gesture as if she could not believe what she was hearing. Then she made another as if she had no words to express what she was feeling. After that the stupor eased and she let him have it.

     ‘Do you realize what you’ve done to me?’ Mother screeched, shouting that Pavel was in his senior year at school, and what are the odds he won’t get into college now, and poor Vendula, she’ll have no chance of a proper education at all, will she, she’ll be lucky to punch tickets on the tram, you selfish fool!

     In this vein the conversation continued for about fifteen minutes. Vendula and I loitered while Mother and Dad argued. Well, Mother argued and Dad as usual kept calm; nevertheless, a lot of unpleasant things were mentioned before the connection was suddenly terminated. Mother began to weep. Dad stood there waiting for instructions while Vendula nurtured a vision involving a new pair of jeans she dreamed Uncle  Stan would send her after he settles in and gets a job, and she was secretly pleased about Uncle Stan defecting cause she was busting to get out of Pavel’s hand-me-downs. However, right then, in view of Mother’s condition (very troubled), Vendula said nothing of this desire. Meanwhile, Mother scheduled a family council for the next morning. Then we all went to bed.