Longest-Serving Bookseller Among 25,000 Czech Virus Victims

Bookseller Jaromir Vytopil, left, appoints the youngest schoolchildren to the order of readers at a library in Pelhrimov, Czech Republic, Thursday, Feb. 7, 2020.  (AP Photo/Miroslav Krsek)
Bookseller Jaromir Vytopil, left, appoints the youngest schoolchildren to the order of readers at a library in Pelhrimov, Czech Republic, Thursday, Feb. 7, 2020. (AP Photo/Miroslav Krsek)
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Longest-Serving Bookseller Among 25,000 Czech Virus Victims

Bookseller Jaromir Vytopil, left, appoints the youngest schoolchildren to the order of readers at a library in Pelhrimov, Czech Republic, Thursday, Feb. 7, 2020.  (AP Photo/Miroslav Krsek)
Bookseller Jaromir Vytopil, left, appoints the youngest schoolchildren to the order of readers at a library in Pelhrimov, Czech Republic, Thursday, Feb. 7, 2020. (AP Photo/Miroslav Krsek)

A year after the Czech Republic recorded its first death from the coronavirus, the central European nation paused to remember all the citizens who lost their lives in the pandemic. By the end of the day, the number had surpassed 25,000.

Bells tolled across the country at noon last Monday to mark the anniversary of when the pandemic's first Czech casualty, a 95-year-old man, died in a Prague hospital. On March 22, 2020 and for some days to come, the Czech Republic reported daily COVID-19 deaths in the single digits. Few imagined then that the nation of of 10.7 million eventually would have one of the world's highest per capita death tolls.

But it's not just grim statistics that have torn the fabric of Czech life. There's always a personal story behind each life lost. And the deaths of some people affected entire communities.

Jaromir Vytopil's was one of them. Without him, the town of Pelhrimov won’t be the same.

As the country's longest-serving bookseller, Vytopil had served the town's readers for almost six decades. They came to his eponymous shop to buy books, maps and music, or just to have a chat with him when they passed by. Books and customers literally were his life: He got into the trade at age 15, studied at a special school for booksellers and worked in six different towns before settling in Pelhrimov in 1963.

He died at the age of 83 on Nov. 9, another grim day during the month that until Saturday was the Czech Republic's deadliest of the pandemic, Marie Vytopilova, says both of them likely caught the virus in the bookstore.

“We didn’t expect that to happen,” she said of her husband's death. “He was still full of life.”

The Czech Republic was spared the worst of the pandemic in the spring only to see its health care system near collapse in the fall and again in January and March after the coalition government led by Prime Minister Andrej Babis repeatedly let down pandemic guards despite warnings by experts.

According to Johns Hopkins University, the Czech Republic has the world's second-highest mortality rate after the microstate of San Marino.

Activists painted thousands of white crosses on the cobblestones of Prague’s Old Town Square this week for all of the people who died. They blamed the government for an inadequate response to the pandemic. One of the crosses honored Vytopil.

As the news of Vytopil's death spread in November, people placed flowers and lit candles in front of the bookstore, turning it into an impromptu memorial. About 600 mourners expressed their sorrow on the store's Facebook page.

“A legend has gone, the only citizen everybody knew in Pelhrimov," resident Petr Kostka commented.

“People like him form the heart of the town,” Milan Pavlicek added.

Vytopil used to leave his family's home in a nearby village on his scooter at 7 a.m. On the way, he stopped to have a coffee and to read newspapers. Then, he was ready to greet his customers.

“What was shining from him was an appetite for life and an effort to give people what he knew well, and that was the books," Marie Vytopilova recalled. "He used to read a lot, really a lot, and over the course of the years, you accumulate knowledge.”

US poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who died last month at age 101, was among the bookseller's favorite authors along with Czech writers Josef Skvorecky and Bohumil Hrabal. But he praised the people who visited his store for their choices and if needed, offered recommendations.

“Many times, I laughed and called him a walking encyclopedia,” his wife said.

Vytopil’s mission as a bibliophile extended beyond his shop. He advised Pelhrimov’s public library on what titles to acquire, helped organize readings and book signings with authors, and once a year dressed up as a king to welcome children into the order of readers during a ceremony in which they received library cards, director Iva Rajdlova said.

“He was young at heart,” Rajdlova said. “He was interested in everything, and it was so nice to talk to him about anything, not just about books. He was interested in people and anything that was going on. Simply, he was a very good man.”

Promoting books and literacy, however, could be a dangerous pursuit during the communist era of Vytopil’s country. Private ownership of bookstores was prohibited. After the 1968 Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia that crushed liberal reforms known as the Prague Spring, the hardline regime banned numerous authors and ordered bookstores to purge their works from store shelves.

“My dad hid all the banned books he could, so when we attended high school, we were reading his favorite, Skvorecky, and also (Milan) Kundera and other banned writers,” Vytopil’s son Jan said.

Martin Vana, who visited Vytopil’s bookstore for the first time in 1978, said he wasn't surprised by local reaction to his death. Vana, who works for the regional public radio station, approached Vytopil about 13 years ago to ask him to present new books on the air. For about 10 years, he had a popular show mixing the books and stories from his life.

“He was such a distinctive personality. We didn’t go to a bookstore, but instead we went to Vytopil’s," Vana said. "In the course of his years in business, his name became synonymous with bookseller."
After the 1989 anti-communist Velvet Revolution, Vytopil finally could open his own family bookstore, which he and his wife did on July 1, 1991.

“He did exactly what he liked and did it right, no matter what it was,” his wife said. “When we started, I remember his enthusiasm for the business. It was him who was carrying the weight of it.”
Despite his age, he didn’t plan to retire, according to son.

“The bookstore was all his life,” he said. “He used to say he only wanted to be carried out of it. That wish turned true, in a way.”

The family announced in January they were putting the bookstore up for sale because they realized they didn't want to run it “without our dad, husband and its soul" any more.
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As Baboons Become Bolder, Cape Town Battles for Solutions

A group of baboons move through the main shopping street of Simon's Town outside of Cape Town on October 31, 2024. (AFP)
A group of baboons move through the main shopping street of Simon's Town outside of Cape Town on October 31, 2024. (AFP)
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As Baboons Become Bolder, Cape Town Battles for Solutions

A group of baboons move through the main shopping street of Simon's Town outside of Cape Town on October 31, 2024. (AFP)
A group of baboons move through the main shopping street of Simon's Town outside of Cape Town on October 31, 2024. (AFP)

On a sunny afternoon in Cape Town's seaside village of Simon's Town, three young chacma baboons cause a commotion, clambering on roofs, jumping between buildings and swinging on the gutters.

Enchanted tourists stop to photograph the troop crossing the road. Locals are less impressed: it's a daily scene in the charming village nestled between the Atlantic Ocean and Table Mountain National Park.

About 500 chacma baboons -- among the largest monkey species and weighing up to 40 kilos (88 pounds) -- roam the peninsula south of Cape Town, says the South African National Biodiversity Institute.

And as human development pushes up the mountain into their natural habitat, the animals are increasingly entering plush properties to forage in gardens and take the pickings from the bins. Some manage to sneak into houses where they can wreak havoc.

Many locals are fond of the creatures, giving them pet names and following their daily adventures on social media.

But others are increasingly frustrated.

"They've become so bold now. They're more domesticated than they should be," said Duncan Low, 60, who runs an ice cream shop.

The intruders have even started raiding kitchens and grabbing food from plates in restaurants. "They're on a sugar and fast-food rush," Low said.

In 2021, the city put down a notorious alpha-male monkey who had terrorized residents with more than 40 raids for food in rubbish bins, from lawns and porches, sometimes entering homes while people were inside.

- Monkey management -

Tension between humans and baboons is "the highest it's ever been", said ecologist Justin O'Riain, who directs the Institute for Communities and Wildlife in Africa at the University of Cape Town.

A baboon on the edge of a wild and an urban area is "the most difficult animal in the world to manage", O'Riain said.

"They are strong, they can climb... and they can learn from each other: there's no landscape that they can't conquer."

As human settlement of the Cape has expanded, the baboons have been "pushed higher and higher up the mountain" where foraging conditions are harder, O'Riain added.

The lush gardens that people have built, with fruit trees and swimming pools, are tempting attractions.

The City of Cape Town, in partnership with park authorities, has for years run a program to manage the marauding monkeys that relies on teams of baboon monitors.

They employ a primarily non-lethal approach, O'Riain said.

However, some techniques, such as firing paintball guns to keep troops away or culling a particularly problematic animal, have come under fire.

Amid an increasingly emotional outcry, vociferous campaigner Baboon Matters announced court action against the city and parks authorities in May for failing to implement what it considers more acceptable control measures, such as baboon-proof fencing and bins.

Facing criticism and funding limits, the authorities said the baboon management program would be wound down by the end of the year as they investigate other "more sustainable urban solutions".

It will however remain in place through December -- a particularly busy month for tourists -- but with fewer rangers, it said.

"We're going to lose our first line of defense," O'Riain said, with more baboons already entering urban areas often at risk to their lives.

- Deaths highest in 10 years -

Thirty-three baboons were known to have died between July 2023 and June 2024, the highest number in 10 years, city authorities say.

Nearly half the deaths were caused by human factors, including shooting with pellet guns, collisions with vehicles and dog attacks.

Coexistence with baboons should come with "a degree of human compliance", starting with managing food waste, conservation activist Lynda Silk, head of the Cape Peninsula Civil Conservation group, said.

"We don't need to be in competition with our natural resources: there can be ways that we can manage our lifestyles to minimize the negative impacts," she said.

For O'Riain, the only viable solution to the baboon battle is to erect fencing in certain areas that is made up of electric wiring and underground mesh to prevent the animals from digging underneath.

A prototype installed 11 years ago had shown great success, with almost no animals entering the area, he said. A 2023 report already suggested where the fencing should be placed.

"Baboons can come and forage right up to the edge of the fence and no one will disturb them," said O'Riain.

"It's a completely peaceful interaction, a win-win for people and for baboons."