The result we all hope and wait for is confirmation that they have been found ‘safe and well’, that at least one distraught family will see their loved one return home that evening.
I have always struggled not to let the stories I write affect me. I have gritted my teeth and clenched my fists as I walked up to murder scenes, edited copy about rape and listened to first-hand accounts of child abuse. But the disappearance of Eliza and Henrietta Huszti has shaken me and a whole community.
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When I first read that the sisters went missing from Aberdeen, I felt it in the pit of my stomach. They were born in Hungary – just like me – and moved to Scotland around six years ago, three years after I decided to start higher education here. There is something inexplicably uncomfortable for me in these details.
Even though our paths never crossed, I am certain we have shared similar experiences on leaving our homes, families and friends behind for an entirely new life. We will have made similar plans and when the time came, arrived with our bags at Budapest Airport for a one-way flight that would change our lives forever. We will have hugged our loved ones goodbye at the entrance as they told us “stay safe”.
According to the Central Bureau of Statistics, emigration rates from Hungary have been rising steadily since 2018, and in 2023 alone more than 35,000 citizens left the country. Scotland has a Hungarian population of around 6600, based on the 2021/22 census. Everyone moves for a unique reason, but many seek better employment, higher wages, quality education or leave for political reasons.
I feel confident saying that every person in the Central European country has a relative or friend who chose to emigrate. It has become a well-documented social phenomenon, which the government is trying to put an end to through several campaigns and laws encouraging childbearing and “returning home”.
I will never forget how difficult my move was – even though it was my plan – and how much I cried myself to sleep from loneliness before I got settled. To be honest, I never talked about it because I wanted to make my parents proud of my achievements and not worry them with my doubts.
Journalist Eszter Tárnai. (Image: Colin Mearns) When I made the move, in all its defiance, I thought about how I would miss birthdays, Sunday dinners and proposals but it never occurred to me that, in an emergency, 1800km separates me from my family.
It finally dawned on me in my first year of university. I stayed at the student accommodation. It was a useful tool for expanding my social circle and assimilating into an unknown world. Mostly, I enjoyed my time at the overpriced halls, until one night we were summoned to the common room after a student committed suicide.
It was a deeply shocking experience that felt almost surreal. The young man who took his own life was an immigrant. He came to study abroad, just like thousands of others every year. For weeks, I was consumed by the thought of his family receiving that call and how they might have reacted.
I cannot speak for the struggles Eliza and Henrietta went through when they started building their new lives. And I definitely cannot even begin to comprehend the heartbreak their family has been experiencing since they vanished. My thoughts are with them.
As divers comb the river Dee and detectives question acquaintances, all we, bystanders, can do is wish for their safe return. This anxious waiting makes me wonder, is it a weakness if I allow this disappearance to get to me? As a reporter, I see missing people almost daily. But this feels different. It feels close to home.
My urge to understand and to make a difference led me to speak on Hungarian national television on Tuesday night, to give context regarding the sisters’ case. I was drenched in sweat with my heart racing as we discussed the migrant community in the northeast, Police Scotland procedure, the local media’s coverage and readers’ reactions.
As a writer, this was miles out of my comfort zone and I have never done broadcast journalism before, but I felt if there ever was a story important enough to weigh in on, this is it. Reading the reaction online, it is clear that a nation shares my confusion and sorrow as we wait for updates.
As the camera faded to black on my laptop after the interview, I went home, still thinking about Eliza and Henrietta. By now, even their names sound familiar. From the bottom of my heart, I hope they are found safe.