"On the way across Warsaw..."

Essay: "Unusual place, my place"

Today I will take you for a walk around a place where birds chirp and you can hear the wind moving the leaves of old trees. There are many such places and I bet that in your city there will also be similar areas where you can relax. But I will mention those that are located in the area that is most familiar to me, that is, Warsaw, the capital of Poland.

Here, in addition to modern skyscrapers and glass skyscrapers, you can also find many pre-war tenement houses. Many of them can often be seen while walking around the most famous district of Warsaw, the Old Town. But that's not the only place you can find them.

Personally, I have the opportunity to admire such tenement houses quite often, because my beloved grandmother lives in one of them in Old Mokotów. This tenement house dates back to pre-war times; until recently, some of the tenants heated themselves with coal. Even one of the apartments has a kitchen with a coal stove. This tenement house belonged to one owner, who also lived there. This tenement house is a low building of only 3 floors with an attic and no elevator. Behind it, there is a large yard where children from the neighborhood often play, and in front of it, there is a small garden. Everyone likes to spend time there because in such places there is always peace and quiet and you can relax. The tenement houses are adjacent to each other, forming a long row, sometimes surrounding one yard. The people living here are usually elderly singles or married couples. They are nice to each other, helpful and you can have a chat with them. When walking in such places, it is worth looking around and noticing the beauty of old tenement houses.

I recommend seeing many such places, especially on a summer evening with your closest family or friends, to feel the beauty of historical places. 

Franciszek

Essay: "Does anyone still remember this?"

 I am standing at the beautiful Unii Lubelskiej Square. The outskirts of Warsaw, this is where the city once ended, beyond which there were only fields and meadows. In the 18th century, Duchess Izabela Lubomirska fell in love with this place. "Mon coteau" - my hill, that's what she called the area and lived in a palace next to Królikarnia. From the window of the duchess's room, there was an idyllic view: grazing white sheep and hopping rabbits. No wonder she liked to walk here, organize parties and invite guests. Even Tadeusz Kościuszko visited it, just before he left for America. 

Mon coteau – My Mokotów. 

The longest street in Warsaw is Puławska Street, formerly Nowoaleksandryjska Street. It was a narrow-gauge railway route to Wilanów and Grójec. The train stopped at the Church of St. Michael. Passengers had to pay a tax for passing through the church premises, and right next to the preserved bell tower stood a vicar with a tray. 

There used to be palaces along Puławska Street, which were later turned into tenement houses. Stefan Starzyński, the first Mayor of Warsaw, decided to expand Warsaw and planned the construction of Mokotów as a district of wealthy entrepreneurs, lawyers, doctors and architects. 

The Wedel House was created for the chocolate factory workers. I look into the gate and admire Zofia Stryjeńska's painting "Highlander Dance". The tenement house was famous for its elegance: there was a roof garden, elevators that opened in the apartment and chrome mailboxes. Opposite is the Morskie Oko Park, a recreation place for factory workers. 

Puławska Street has changed since I remember it.

 The Moscow cinema, where I watched the famous Film Confrontations, has disappeared. All that remains of the building are the lions and memories. There is also no „Little Theater”, whose director was Adam Hanuszkiewicz. It was one of the few theatres in Warsaw with a moving stage. Now, there is another grocery discount store "Biedronka". I feel very sorry for this place. I miss an important cultural point in Mokotów. 

In my free time, I like to pass by the Dovecote and the Moorish House, it is the only preserved element of the former park next to the Szustra Palace. The park was once surrounded by a wall, today it invites you to walk with its greenery, old trees and benches to relax from the hustle and bustle of the street. Opposite there is the best ice cream in Mokotów - Limoni. I recommend lemon with basil. 

I love the parks in Mokotów. Does anyone else remember that there was the Southern Railway Station next to Dreszer Park? „Cucumber” buses which were going to Konstancin, parked here. Every Sunday, I went from here to visit my uncle. Now, I often stop here to take a deep breath and enjoy the peace. It is a beautiful park, an oasis of silence, in the morning you can listen to birds singing, and in the evening squirrels wait for nuts from walkers. 

There is one more place that testifies to the interesting history of Puławska Street - the Scarab House. Unfortunately, its condition is getting worse every year. When I go home by tram, I always look at it with concern and look forward to its renovation. I wouldn't want it to fade into history and in a few years, I'll ask the question: Does anyone still remember it?

 AgnieszkaK 

Essay: "Excuse me, are they fighting here? Enchanted areas in Warsaw"

 I'm going by tram to Praga Północ, to Brzeska Street. I get off at the „ bears" and walk along Towarowa. I turn into Ząbkowska. The street is narrow, cobbled, and fragments of the pre-war tram rails are still preserved. Faded curtains hang in the windows of the nearby bars, and plastic flowers stand in vases on the windowsill. The windows are dusty, they haven't been washed for years. I always thought that Praga was not Warsaw. Time has stopped here and the clock hands do not want to move. The faces of people rushing to or from work look tired, grey and plain. I don't know where Brzeska Street is. I ask the way a pizza delivery guy. “ Go straight and then to the right. We don't go there. We are not allowed". 

This Brzeska Street is amazing, like from an old movie. Some of the tenement houses are shabby, the windows are open, the windows are broken, some guys are standing in the doorways with beers. I enter another gate into a small yard. In the middle, there is a chapel with the Virgin Mary, and on the ground, there is a jar with fresh forget-me-not flowers. I sit down on a wooden bench and look around. You can hear residents talking. Someone is cooking dinner, children are crying, boys are watching a football game, and men are arguing about politics. An old lady with a shopping bag sits next to me. “I need to rest for a while,” she sighs. "Who are you looking for?" I answered that I wanted to write about the enchanted areas of Warsaw: "You know, about Brzeska Street, its inhabitants, history, how it was in the past."

 “A tailor lived here on the ground floor, you will see, the tablet is still there, but he died. He was already old and had lost his eyesight. 

A family was living on the first floor to the left, they were supposedly decent. And their daughter Olka killed the postman. She took the money from the bag and went to the mall for shopping. She got 25 years in prison. I feel sorry for the mother. She cried. 

And here lived Jurek, a junior high school student. Here on the second floor, where the curtains are. Jurek made a bet with his friends that he would rob a guy on the street. But he had a knife and in a fight, the boy stabbed him in the stomach. He didn't finish school anymore. They tried him as an adult. They also sentenced him to many years in prison. Tragedy". 

The old lady gets up and takes the shopping bag. She walks slowly and opens a creaky wooden door. I also get up and go back to Ząbkowska Street. I pass the "Hot Pyzy, Flaki” bar and Różyckiego Bazaar. I used to come here for shopping with my parents. The place looks deserted, but I remember crowds of people, clothes in kiosks, and shoes standing on newspapers. My mother bought me a communion dress and white shoes here. One of the stalls is open. An elderly couple sells fruit and vegetables. “Miss, Do you want eggs? Straight from the countryside. We have a small chicken farm. We trade here on Saturdays.” 

Praga, is an amazing place, a magical area. I clutch my handbag tightly and return to Mokotów, my home. 

AgnieszkaK 

Essay: "Zdzisław Beksiński, a painter from the neighbourhood"

What should an artist look like? He definitely has a long beard and mustache, wears a hat and a flowing black coat. He smokes a pipe and hangs out in a cafe. He should also have a shirt stained with paint. When he walks down the street, people look at him. It exudes an artistic aura. He has the charm of Monet or the madness of Van Gogh.

Zdzisław Beksiński did not stand out in any way. He wore a checkered shirt and slightly too wide trousers held up by suspenders. Short haircut, with wide-rimmed glasses and thick bottoms. He was usually seen with his wife, returning from a nearby grocery store with some shopping. He loved making movies with a small camera.

Beksiński moved from Sanok because, as he claimed, the town was too small for him, everyone knew him, and no one knew anything about art. He wanted to be close to the artistic events to which he was invited, but he always refused. He lived in a block of flats in Służew nad Dolinką. He lived on the 3rd floor. The houses in the estate are so close that one of the neighbors boasted that he liked watching Beksiński paint. The next day the window was closed tightly with curtains.

The world of Beksiński's paintings includes skeletons, corpses, ghosts, skulls, crosses, large spiders and cockroaches. Cemeteries and creatures that arouse fear and nightmares. The atmosphere of inevitable death. The artist created his paintings in a small room while listening loudly to classical music.

His son Tomasz was a beloved radio presenter. One day he committed suicide. Beksiński's wife, Zofia, also died after a long illness. Zdzisław lived alone for several years. Orderly, quiet and cordial to everyone. On February 21, 2005, he was killed by the 19-year-old son of his friends who wanted money from him. He managed to steal 2 cameras and several CDs.

In the building at Sonaty Street, at the entrance to the staircase, there is an inscription: "Here the outstanding painter, creator, photographer and illustrator Zdzisław Beksiński lived and worked."

AgnieszkaK

Essay: "Secrets of tenement houses, tenement houses of secrets"

The 1980s. The last stop of bus 157 is at Bokserska Street. There is a horse racing track nearby. Sting's concert is taking place here tonight, so the street is extremely crowded. People look around: "It's a shitty place," comments can be heard.

Służewiec is the last southern district of Warsaw, a settlement of displaced persons and workers working in nearby factories. The residential houses were built in the area of the former village of Zagościniec, which was burned down after the outbreak of the Warsaw Uprising. At 4 a.m. on August 1, 1944, soldiers from the Karpaty Battalion of the 2nd Baszta Regiment ran onto the Horse Race Track. Most of them died, the wounded were saved by farmers who took the soldiers out of the city on wagons. The Germans took revenge on the inhabitants of Zagościniec, killing over 120 people and burning the village. Behind the Służewiec wall, you can see the burial place of the insurgents.

Factories and numerous workplaces were established in Służewiec. The first house estates that were built were workers' hostels on Bogunki, Bokserska, and Obrzeżna streets. Bus drivers and their families lived near the bus terminal. A special housing estate was built for them at Rzymowskiego Street.

An experimental house was also created to ask residents' opinions about which type of house is the most comfortable to live in. The first underfloor heating was installed in some blocks. To this day, new residents wonder why the ceilings in their apartments are wavy.

A complex of tower blocks was built at Gotarda Street for displaced people from Targówek. Because they were not "polite" residents of Warsaw, one of the four blocks was built only for the police whose task was to keep order in the estate.

Shopping was done in the only grocery store on Bartłomieja Street and a small stand where fresh milk and cottage cheese was sold every day. Cows grazed on Kłobucka Street, chickens roamed in pens, and pigs were kept in small pigstys.

The Okęcie airport is nearby. Just pass little  gardens and the Zbarż fort, built by the Russian army in the 19th century as a weapons warehouse. Today, the red brick warehouses are flooded. Residents of the Służewiec estate often visited this place in spring, when white and purple lilacs bloomed.

The biggest attraction of the estate was the Janosik bar and Sunday horse races.

In the 1990s, Galeria Mokotów Shopping Mall and the Mordor office complex were built. No one will say anymore: "It's shitty here."

  AgnieszkaK

Essay: " A walk around Mokotów, with the Warsaw Uprising in the background"

I live in Mokotów, I go to school here and I often pass by various commemorative plaques or monuments related to the Warsaw Uprising. Since this is my neighbourhood, I decided to learn a little more about this event, so I went to visit some of the most important places.

The Warsaw Uprising broke out on August 1, 1944. Poles rose against the German troops occupying Warsaw. They had no heavy weapons, planes, guns or tanks. The uprising collapsed after 63 days, on October 2, 1944, approximately 18,000 Home Army soldiers died and 180,000 civilians were murdered by the Germans.

At the beginning of my trip, I learned that I also have a family history connected with the Warsaw Uprising. The son of my great-grandfather's brother took part in it. Zdzisław Badowski, together with many other soldiers, tried to evacuate through the sewers after the fall of Mokotów. Once they had managed to get to a safe place, they were ordered to return because there had been no order to evacuate Mokotów before. Unfortunately, while returning, the soldiers, including Zdzisław, took the wrong exit and found themselves right next to the German gendarmerie on Dworkowa Street. On September 27, approximately 140 insurgents were taken prisoner and murdered by the Germans. To commemorate this tragic event, a monument was built there. There is a famous photo from the Warsaw Uprising, which probably shows Zdzisław Badowski.

The next point of my walk was the monument to the "Baszta" soldiers, also at Dworkowa Street. This is a monument commemorating the very event I mentioned at the beginning. It was here that about 140 soldiers emerged from the sewers and were shot by the Germans.

My last point was the Warsaw Uprising Mound. It is a small mountain located at Bartycka Street. However, this is not a natural hill, there is a longer history behind it. This Mound was built from the ruins of destroyed Warsaw. The idea dates back to 1945 by an engineer Stanisław Gruszczyński. The construction of the current mound began in 1945 when ruins from destroyed Warsaw buildings were brought to Czerniaków. The mound was completed in 1950. At the very top, there is a "Fighting Poland" sign.

Hania

Essay: "A view from my window. Służewiecki Stream"

I like to sit at my desk facing the window with a beautiful lake view. I have checked Wikipedia - it is a pond belonging to the Berenstewicz Ponds complex. The Służewiecki Stream flows nearby. It is still called Smródka by the inhabitants because of the unpleasant smell it used to have. Fortunately, this is now history.

I'm opening my laptop, clicking on Google, and entering the phrase: „ Służewiecki Stream”.

The source of the river is under Okęcie airport. It then flows under the WKD railway tracks and as a surface stream through the Wyścigi Race Course to Wilanów.

It's spring, warm, perfect weather for a bike trip. I get on my bike and decide to ride along the river. I stop at Łączyny Street. There is a garden here and a manor house, which is currently neglected with a collapsed roof and broken windows. The last owner of the manor died in the 1950s. I close my eyes and imagine this place glowing with life: Saturday balls, sailing in boats on the lake, lanterns lit in the evening. This is what this place might have looked like in the old days. Now it is forgotten.

The stream flows near the race course stables. This is my favourite place to have a stroll on Saturdays and Sundays. For as long as I can remember, I have always liked to come here in spring, when the forsythia blooms, and in autumn, to pick chestnuts. I have made friends with some of the stable workers. They once advised me to bet on a black horse named Amman, which took part in the famous Great Warsaw race. I kept my fingers crossed for him. He crossed the finish line second... I felt disappointed, but my daughter's rocking horse was named after this beautiful horse. Watching horse races is still a great pleasure for me.

There is also tragedy connected with the Służewiecki Stream in this area. Sadly, a few young people have drowned in this small river. I remember Krzyś from a nearby junior high school who fell into the water at night and couldn't get out. All the students and teachers cried.

The stream flows through Służew to Dolinka, next to the most beautiful and, in my opinion, most interesting Cultural Center in Warsaw. I often come here for language, music and art classes. Then I rest on a blanket by the river. If you stay quiet and don't move, strange creatures will come out of the water...  Check it out for yourself.

My bicycle trip along the stream runs among greenery and trees. I pass a Nepomucen chapel and cross the street. Next to the Blacksmith Museum, I turn into the modern Wilanów housing estate. I enter the park next to the Palace, which King Jan III Sobieski built for his beloved wife, Marysieńka. Here the Służewiecki Stream ends its course.

I leave my bike at the gate and walk along the paths of the French park with its well-kept flower beds, and then the English park, which reminds me of a painting by John Constable.

An annual Shakespeare festival takes place in the park in July. In the evening, residents can watch a performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream while sitting on blankets or lying back in deckchairs. And then the holidays begin.

AgnieszkaK

Essay: " A class with a potential"

Essay: "My Jewish Warsaw"

The history of Jews in Warsaw always moves me. Over 300,000 residents of my city perished during the German occupation. Like stones thrown into a well, they disappeared irretrievably.

I often set out to search for the remains of Jewish culture in Warsaw. I looked for houses, streets, shops, mezuzahs on doorposts, and sukkahs built for the holiday of Sukkot.

The most significant symbol of the Jewish tragedy in Warsaw is the ghetto wall, especially the part along Waliców Street. Red bricks stretch alongside the former Warsaw Breweries. I touch the rough wall and think of the people who walked here, cut off from the rest of the city. Crowded in the small ghetto, hungry and lonely, they awaited death.

At the crossroads of Waliców and Pereca Streets stands a two-story tenement. I remember a photo,  likely taken by a German soldier, showing small children lying on the doorstep. They wore torn jackets and no shoes. They had perished from hunger…

Near Waliców Street, there’s a large house. During the Warsaw Uprising, its front wall collapsed due to bombing. Now, you can see the windows, balconies, stairwells, and a sagging roof. Weeds and shrubs have grown over the ruins. On the side wall, activists from the “Save Warsaw’s Heritage” organisation painted the words “Kamien i co?” – „A Stone, So What?”. Some Italian architects have plans to revitalise the building. I hope to witness the moment when the house returns to life, becoming a memorial to its former inhabitants. Among them lived an opera singer, an actor, and the popular Jewish poet Władysław Szlenger, who died in a bunker during the ghetto uprising.

Within the small ghetto area, we can find the remains of Próżna Street, shops on Grzybowska Street, and the Nożyk Synagogue. The latter was used by the German occupiers as a stable for their horses.

I like sitting in the green square by the tiny pond. From here, I can see the Palace of Culture, built in the 1950s on the site of existing houses and streets. Złota, Chmielna, and Sienna were cut, shortened, and lost their role as main streets in Warsaw. Here stood Janusz Korczak’s Orphanage, and from here, he was forced to lead the children to Umschlagplatz. They all perished in Treblinka.

I walk from Elektoralna Street to Plac Bankowy, where the Blue Tower is. In my opinion, it’s one of the ugliest office buildings in Warsaw. It was constructed on the site of the Great Synagogue, the most important Jewish house of prayer. The synagogue was blown up on the last day of the Jewish uprising. During the Warsaw Jewish Culture Festival „Warszawa Singera”, old Warsaw photos are displayed on the tower’s wall, accompanied by cantors singing. 

The only original Jewish building on Bankowy Square is the Jewish Historical Institute on Tłomacka Street, formerly a Jewish library. I prefer the northern side of the square. Here, Nalewki Street began—the busiest and most entertaining part of the Northern District. On pre-war postcards, this side of the city looked beautiful: colourful shops, cafés, cabarets, lanterns, and rickshaws. Today, only cobblestones, tram tracks, and fragments of the Simons Passage department store remain. Nalewki Street is deserted, stretching 200 meters and ending in a lawn. During the occupation, a gate to the ghetto stood there. In April 1942, a group of German soldiers entered the ghetto to eliminate the remaining inhabitants but was attacked by Jewish fighters. Mordechai Anielewicz, an eighteen-year-old boy, along with his comrades, decided to fight against the Germans. They knew they had no chance of survival.

The Courts are located on Aleja Solidarności, formerly Leszno Street. During the war, it was a place through which the ghetto inhabitants could go to the Aryan side, to Biała Street. This is a street with a tragic history. Jews who had a chance to survive on the Polish side completed a course in confident walking and learned a new identity and a new address. Only Poles could recognise Jews and they took advantage of this in a cruel way. For me, it is the Street of Lost Hopes. I am ashamed of my fellow countrymen..

Opposite the Courts, there is Muranów, the former Northern District. It was built on the remains of the old Jewish district. Nothing here resembles old Warsaw. I go up and down the rough stairs. I’m walking on the ruins of the old city. Recently, young street artists painted images of Jewish Warsaw on the walls of buildings. There is a backyard orchestra, Jewish women, Zamenhof's steps, Korczak's crayons and a Jewish fantasy world. An open-air painting gallery was established in Muranów. Everyone who passes through the gate at Nowolipki Street is surprised by the uniqueness of this place.

Emanuel Ringelblum was a Jewish historian who perished in the ghetto, decided to immortalise the fate of the ghetto inhabitants. He collected paintings, posters, labels, leaflets, candy wrappers, and everything illustrating life in a closed city. He put all his notes in five metal boxes and buried them in the basements of houses in Muranów. A few years ago, a monument was built at Nowolipie Street commemorating these artefacts, thanks to which we learned more about the sorrowful fate of the inhabitants of the Northern District. One of the churns was discovered in Wałowa Street, close to the Chinese Embassy. Buttons, lace, colourful threads and needles were also found here from the so-called sheds, workshops where Jewish women had worked. Uprising fights also took place here.

Only a few people survived the ghetto uprising. At Miła Street there is the Anielewicz Mound, where the leader of the Jewish Uprising and his companions died. They committed suicide after the Germans had discovered the entrance to the bunker. Tourists visiting this place leave stones and flowers. This year, archaeologists began to conduct excavate next to the mound. After removing the lawn, the basements of the old tenement houses were discovered. Everyday items and religious objects were found. This is what Muranów looks like under the sidewalk, street and lawn. We walk through parts of the destroyed city.

Zamenhofa Street leads to Umschalgplatz. And again, I see a photo of a large group of people sitting on the street. They are waiting for the train to Auschwitz. They are surrounded by Nazis with guns ready to shoot anyone trying to escape.

Irena Sendler saved children from this place. As a nurse, she had the opportunity to enter the medical school  She would take small children out and write their names on scraps of paper and close them in a jar. Thanks to this, their identity was preserved.

Stawki Street saddens me. It's hard to cross the Umschalgplatz without feeling moved and thoughtful.

This is my Jewish Warsaw. These are the places that I visit and speak about the fate of its inhabitants so that they will never be forgotten.

AgnieszkaK

Essay: "From the countryside to Warsaw"

I had always wanted to know more about my family, but my mother never wanted to talk about her life in the countryside. Dad died too early for me to learn about his origins.

I am sitting on the brick steps by our porch in the village of Łętowo Stare. The summerhouse was built by my uncle, my grandmother's brother. It was built in the field to be closer to the meadow in the summer. It is constructed of cinder blocks, and a wooden barn was added, where my aunt now stores old junk, coal and a bicycle. She used to keep chickens here.

"Auntie, tell me about Grandma Józia"

Grandma Józia was very poor. As a young girl, she served in the manor. She was married to a widower with three children. Adam Czub, my grandfather, needed a new, young wife to take care of his children. He was much older than Grandma Józia.

Józia gave birth to 6 children. My mother Marysia, uncle Kazimierz and aunt Kazimiera. Three children died. Auntie said she remembered the little children, twins playing in the sand. And that was it. We still put flowers on their graves at the cemetery.

Adam died after being struck by lightning during a storm when he ran to the cows in the meadow. The neighbours dug a hole so that the lightning would come out of Grandpa. It didn’t. The local healer’s treatment didn't help either.

"Auntie, tell me how Grandma Józia got by, alone with six children."

Józia went from village to village looking for work in the fields. The neighbours built her a modest house in Zadybie Stare, on the edge of the village.

Auntie, you know that I remember that house, the barn and the shed. The house was black with white shutters, and the roof was covered with straw. There were red geraniums in the windows. In the hall, there were pots: with butter, with peelings for chickens and pigs. I remember a large stove and a white sideboard with drawers. Next to it was a bucket of water and a cloth on the wall "Whoever gets up early, the Lord God gives". Grandma slept on a bed by the window and next to it stood a table, not very big. There was also another room, very nice. There was a round table, 2 beds with white bedding and a large wooden wardrobe. On the wall, there were holy pictures and a wedding photo of my aunt. We rarely used this room, it was only for sleeping, not to get dirty. Behind the house grew a huge apple tree - Kosztel. I can still taste the sweet apples. As a little girl, I loved digging vegetables for dinner, especially potatoes with a metal hoe. I liked to graze cows in the forest and ride in a cart during haymaking. My aunt had a horse - Anglik, who everyone was afraid of because he was very energetic. I wasn't afraid. When I woke up early in the morning and everyone was still asleep, I went to the barn to brush the horse. I picked apples for him and gave him water from a bucket. I also remember his flowing mane, while we were riding the cart to church on Sunday.

That was my favourite summer holiday. When Grandma Józia died, my trips to the countryside ended. The house burned down. Today, there's only a barn standing alone there...

"Auntie, do you remember the war?"

 Not really, I was little. When the war ended, I was 9 years old. I only remember how we hid with other children and women in the forest, because the Russian army was close. We were afraid of soldiers.

"And how did Grandma Józia cope after the war?"

Józia received a few acres from the government, the orphanage helped, and we received packages from the American UNRRA. There was only a primary school in the village, I finished fourth grade. Your mother was smarter, the teacher told her to continue her education. Her uncle took her to Konstancin, where he lived with his wife. He worked as a plumber and rented a room in a former villa from nuns. He took care of your mother. She graduated from high school and nursing school. She helped us.

Auntie, I remember how we brought food and clothes from Warsaw. Mom kept shouting at Grandma Józia not to go barefoot. I was a bit afraid of Grandma. She was very tall, wore a grey dress, an apron and always covered her hair with a scarf. She was very nice to me, though we ate soup together on a wooden bench behind the house.

"Auntie, do you know what happened to the rest of your brothers and sisters?"

 I don't know much. The oldest sister moved far away and has her farm, the second died during the deportation to Germany for work, and the third lives in Garwolin. Her name is Stasia. We visit each other sometimes. Kazimierz passed away some years ago.

Grandma Józia died of a heart attack in 1972. I remember the coffin in a nice room with white curtains and flowers. Neighbours came to pray. I slept in that room with my mother in one bed. I was scared. Then they loaded the coffin onto a cart and everyone went to church.

My mother was the only person in the family who left the village at the age of 15 and settled down in Warsaw. She never said a word about her childhood.

AgnieszkaK