IN MEMORIAM PÉTER KÖVES

20 December 1941 – 18 October 2025

There is something ineffable about the way a life unfolds across the decades – how a boy becomes a brother, a husband, then a father, and finally a grandfather and great-grandfather. Péter's life was exactly like this: built in layers, gaining new dimensions with each stage, while his essence remained unchanged. He was an emigrant and an explorer who achieved the impossible not only in geographic terms, but existentially too: he created a home in Hungary, then started from nothing and built another in New Zealand. A hardworking immigrant who became a founder of a company, and later a traveler who journeyed across the world. A fantastic cook, a prankster, and a grumpy man all at once – under whose hands everything flourished in the garden, from avocados to peaches, plums, mandarins, and dill. A cultured, well-read man whose pickled cucumbers were legendary, and whose cucumber salad was unsurpassable. He became a little bit Dutch – no wonder, with a Dutch wife who brought a large extended family – but he preserved his Hungarian identity throughout: in his language, his thinking, his cooking. He was a generous man who helped when he could, and even when he could barely manage.

He lived the first seventeen years of his life in Hungary. He spoke often of Óbuda, even giving me his childhood address last summer: 25 Beszterce Street. "My Mama and Papa's house. Go there if you have time,

and send me a picture” – he would say. He told stories of Russian soldiers, of hiding, of Swabian foods, and strange Swabian words. Then the 1956 revolution intervened, and he had to leave. The original

destination was Canada, where his sister, Ágnes went, but life took its course, and New Zealand it became. Here he continued his studies, here he met Erica, and here his parents and his brother András later arrived.

Father and sons founded a company, which they built together with shared effort over decades, and which continues to operate today as the fruit of their labor. With Erica, they made their family home in Titirangi. The meaning of his life was found in his wife and children, then grandchildren and great- grandchildren, alongside work, sport, fishing, and travel. He brought home a memory from every place he visited. Together with his brother András, they were devoted members of the Jelly Belly Breakfast Club for many years - a community forged through sport and shared breakfasts. Both were passionate fishermen, excellent gardeners, and unbeatable at cards. They were characterized by true brotherly bond, supporting each other through life's challenges countless times. He was also at home on Waiheke Island. In the final phase of his life, he lived here among us, on that island which offered him tranquility. "Take this, take that from the garden" – he would say, gladly accepting cookies or cakes in return. Should any trouble arise, his home was always well-stocked with the essentials: Unicum, pálinka, and biscuits. Just last year we talked about writing his memoir when time allowed – he would tell the story of his life. He managed to tell it in fragments, but not as a whole in the end. The illness would not accommodate the plan. Péter, you're surely a kilometer now! We miss you very much already.

Rest in peace, farewell, my friend.

Viola Vadász