Recollections taken from the journal of Maria Solecki (nee Kolodziej)
& stories shared with her family
On her childhood and the childhood home:
Weteranowka; this place was obliterated during the war. Sometimes I think that it was just a tale which never existed. (M. 2015 Revera)
In my memories, my childhood place will remain beautiful forever. There, nightingales sang every warm evening in May. The flowers had strong aromas. The violets which we gathered in the spring had a strong, distinctive fragrance; one could think of making perfume on the spot! Lilies of the valley, lilacs and later the ‘czerembina’ (cherry) fragrance left unforgettable moments connected with our place.
Memories of spring were associated with the sound of Easter bells in the nearby chapel, pussy willows and storks returning to our barn’s roof from far away countries.
In the summer, Jewish people would come to buy fruit and butter from my mother on their way to picnic in the countryside.
Father would hire workers from the nearby village for the harvest; we children would ride on top of loaded carts of hay. Later on, when they were digging potatoes, we used to bake them in bonfires.
Winter time would see women working for my mother preparing feathers to make pillows and eiderdowns, and weaving yarns from our sheep’s wool. Mother would have the wool dyed and made into homespun covers for beds. These had flower designs, colourful stripes as well as our initials. (One with the letters MK is now in daughter’s possession). The women would sing songs in Ukrainian and tell ghost stories; we children would be afraid to go to bed afterwards. When it snowed heavily, father would take us to school in a horse drawn sleigh.
We would decorate a tree on Christmas and have a large, traditional supper. Afterwards we would go to the barn and feed the cows a holy wafer called ‘oplatek’; we excluded the horses, as they were not in the stable when Christ was born.
I wanted to be a teacher. I was an average student but I had a good mind for knowledge. I liked to study literature, history and language but I very much disliked the scientific subjects.
I remember learning about faraway places in the new world (America). We heard about New York, Chicago, Detroit and Niagara Falls. I read the book Anne of Green Gables (Ania z zielonego wzgorza) in the Polish language. In my wildest dreams though, I never would have imagined that I would one day see some of these places.
Deportation:
I remember sitting on top of some sacks of grain and watching our house disappearing from our sight. Little did I know then, that I will see our place sometimes in my dreams only.
On the 10th of February, 1940, at night while we slept at grandmother’s house, they came to deport us to the Soviet Union. That night I had a dream. I dreamt about some cemetery, graves and a significant date. Bobik, our faithful dog was barking furiously. Mother started to cry. The uniformed soldier put his arm around her saying, “Don’t cry mammy, we won’t hurt you; I will marry your daughter”. I remember grandmother (Barbara) walking behind our sleigh saying “Maryniu, when am I going to see you again?”
Our things were moved into one of the crowded cattle cars of the freight train; people already there objected but had to make room for us in a lower bunk as we were the last to come on board. Towards evening, our train started rolling. It was a very emotional moment for everyone when we crossed the Polish border. Many were crying, while others were praying or singing patriotic songs.
We ate what we had taken with us; later on at some of the stations, we would receive hot soups, cereal (kasza) or macaroni. The most valued and craved thing though, was hot water called ‘kipiatok’ which satisfied our thirst and enabled us to wash our faces occasionally.
At night, when the stove in the rail car was out, it was terribly cold. Once, my sister's and my hair froze to the wall.
We approached the Ural Mountains, traveling on the cross-Siberian rail line. Miles and miles of endless forest, the taiga, could be seen outside. In Sverdlovsk; formerly known as Ekaterinburg, the city where the czar's family were killed, we had to reload our possessions in open rail cars for the next leg of the journey to Tabory. Russian women there fed us a hot meal. I must say, that we did encounter sympathetic and good people in the Soviet Union who were willing to lend a helping hand in need. From there, it was another 140 kilometers by sleigh and then truck to our final destination, Ozierki.
On her life in Siberia in Ozierki (meaning little lakes):
I remember dreaming once about cookies that I kept finding in some ashes. I was angry at myself for waking up before tasting those cookies! It was almost an accepted thing to steal (vegetables from the collective garden); you could be shot or arrested but when you are hungry, you don’t care what happens to you.
Everyone over the age of 14 had to work for their living. There is a slogan in the Soviet Union: ‘If you don’t work, you don’t eat’.
Adolek and I were tasked with caring for 2 year old Rys and 7 year old Irenka while, their mother, Mrs. Andrzejewska, who was a family acquaintance went to work. Although we were responsible and trustworthy, being children ourselves, we would frighten Irenka with ghost stories as we warmed ourselves by the lime kiln oven. She would suffer nightmares on account of this terrible thing that we did, to which we never confessed! As we were always so hungry, we would also eat some of the cookies that Mrs. Andrzejewska would leave for her children.
In December, 1940, my little sister Stefcia, a perfect, beautifully formed little girl was born. She cried a lot because of hunger and to appease her, we would give her sugar wrapped in a piece of material to form a nipple, and rock her to sleep again.
When I think about my little sister now, after having my children and grandchildren, I feel so sad. In my memory, I see her with outstretched hand towards me saying “daj” (give).
Leaving Ozierki:
I can honestly say that this journey (leaving Ozierki) was the most terrible and frightening of my life. But we could not go back; we had reached the point of no return. We had to push forward.
The train stayed for a short time only on the platform and a hoard of people forced their way inside. We were all separated and it was some agonizing hours later that we found each other again. Our merciful God was with us; not one of us was left behind.
As there were advantages and safety in numbers, we travelled with other families besides Mrs. Andrzejewska. In Czkatov, the long awaited permission for transport to Tashkient was finally given. Irenka, ill with the measles was left behind in the hospital by her mother, never to see her again despite her mother’s assurance that she would return for her. Rys, would later die of complications from measles in Arysi, where his grandfather also perished.
Death started to take its harvest. People were suffering malnutrition, typhoid, and dysentery. Old people and small children were dying. My little sister was suffering complications following her illness with measles as she had difficulty breathing. We knew that it was a matter of time before she too would die. It took almost all day to reach Janginur (name of the collective farm). Father cleaned the barn for us thoroughly, disinfecting the walls and floor and laying down fresh straw. That night Stefcia died. I could not bring myself to look at her. The next day, father made a small coffin and she was dressed nicely for the last time. She was buried in the frozen ground with a small cross which we improvised, placed over top of her grave. Father told me to remember the place to show mother in the spring.
Whenever I think about my sister’s little grave, this one desolate spot, far from us in the Soviet Union, I feel terrible knowing that we will never visit it; part of us, part of my family was left behind.
Who knows the mystery of life and death, punishment and reward?
People are different. Some would kill to survive and some probably would be killed to save others. One can find these people in desperate situations; some become like animals, and some saints.
During my illness (with typhoid), I realized that I might die. I was not afraid to die; I suppose when one suffers, one doesn’t care to prolong this. After my illness, I had to learn to walk again with the help of a cane; my hair fell completely off my head and the new hair grew in curly.
Better times:
I was terrified of the scorpions which lived in the crevices of our hut in Dzalal-Abad; but when I think of this place, I feel like for the first time in many months, we were happy.
‘Lepioszki” were pancakes that Uzbeks baked outside in the yards using ‘kiziak’ (cow paddies) for fuel.
Young civilians were encouraged to join schools that were affiliated with the military; the idea was to have as many as possible in uniform in order to ‘escape’ Russia. I decided to join one such school called ‘Junaczki’.
In Krasnovodsk, I learned that I was the last of my family to leave Russia. The date was August 12, 1942 when the ship left port to cross the Caspian Sea towards freedom to Pahlevi’s transit camp in Iran. We were among the seventeen thousand civilians who left Russia with the army.
It was here that I later met my Uncle Adam; tall, good looking, and in uniform.
In Achwaz (meaning hell in the Persian language because of the constant heat), we awaited passage to India. English soldiers would come to the fences and sing songs: ‘My bonnie lies over the ocean’ and the American soldiers would be more forward and daring: ‘Hello! My name is Jack, what’s yours?’
India:
We sailed on the Polish merchant ship called ‘Kosciuszko’; it took us over a month to reach India. We saw land on both sides of the gulf and it looked colourful with red and hot pink bushes of oleanders. It was May 17, 1943 when we docked at Karachi (now Pakistan). On the last part of our journey, mother and I sailed on Santia, one of two ships (the other was named Varelia) to Bombay. It was monsoon season and the ocean was rough. One moment I saw our ship’s board in the air and next, an angry wave towered over us.
For four years we lived in the Polish refugee camp in Kolhapur, about three kilometers from Valivade, India.
The rainy season would last two months. I remember walking in the rain, covered by a heavy poncho style rain cape. I wore sandals so that the water would escape through the straps.
We used to write a lot of letters to the unknown soldiers. It was fun for us girls to correspond and I suppose for the soldiers as well.
In my class we had three boys among thirty girls; we called them: ’rodzynki w ciescie’ meaning raisins in the dough.
We organized scout camps in the heart of a jungle in Amba, Chandoli. There were vines for us to swing on like Tarzan; orchids were blooming on the trees. We often saw pumas with eyes glowing like fire, running around our camp. One would find snakes curled under the knapsack which we were using for our pillows. I remember one incident when a small monkey entered the chapel during a holy mass service, rang the bell and then jumped on the altar. We giggled at its antics.
We learned the outcome of the Yalta and Potsdam conferences and with that, our hopes of returning to a free Poland died.
Father came from Egypt on furlough for a month long visit. It was a happy time for us, with lots of laughter and gaiety in the rooms; people came to visit. We would go shopping and attended a camp wedding. Afterwards, father returned to Egypt for demobilization to England as was all of the Polish army.
On August 15, 1947, India acquired its independence. It was a time for celebrations. We often witnessed colourful parades with participants riding high on elephants all dressed up and adorned with flowers.
England:
We left India on November 4, 1947, sailing on the ‘Empire Brent’. We crossed the Red Sea, through the Suez Canal and traversed the Mediterranean Sea heading for England to join my father and sister who were already there. Passing Gibraltar, we observed the white cliffs of Dover and finally reached Liverpool on November 29th.
It was cold and we were shivering. We stayed in Daglinton, a transit camp which previously was an airfield. We were housed in round huge tub like metal shelters which we called ‘beczki smiechu’ meaning barrels of laughter. In the morning, to our surprise and great joy, Adolek came to visit. He looked tall in his uniform. Apart from partaking in better food and seeing us, he was more interested in the girls that he saw around our camp. After Adolek, came Hela, bursting in on us, dropping her belongings as she ran to embrace us. She looked wonderful, with black, curly hair and rosy cheeks; Nazareth agreed with her. We talked of future prospects in England, and Tadek, her fiancé due to arrive at Christmas time. Finally, father came to move us to Padington camp (also a post war airfield camp where American soldiers were stationed). Nearby were: Rashden, Wellingborough and Northamptonshire. The men here worked in the mines and steel industry; some were mechanics. My father lectured me on how to behave towards young men. He was afraid that I might snub all of them and he wanted to remain on friendly terms with them.
We (girls from India), were naïve when it came to associating with the opposite sex. The boys that were interested in me, I did not like very much. I had a crush on Wacek, but he was corresponding with one of the other girls from India who he eventually married.
What I liked most about my life now, was partying. I loved to go to dances. I danced well and I suppose that after having been suppressed for so long, I wanted to make up for lost time.
Hela and Tadek were married on March 19, 1948 in Bedford during Easter as planned. It was not easy to throw a reception as food was being rationed in England, but somehow we managed all right.
At first we had difficulty communicating with the English people. I remember shocking one English lady at the bus stop after she made a comment about the ‘nasty weather’. It was snowing, but I loved snow and, after not seeing it for a few years, I had replied that ‘I like it’.
We moved with father, who was being transferred to Lubenham (another former airfield) in Leicestershire near Market Harborough. Adolek and Uncle Adam moved here also. I, along with some other women from camp, was bused to Market Harborough each day to work in a brassiere factory. At that time I wanted to go to London to take a secretarial course and get a more suitable job for myself, but there were no scholarships available and I could not afford to go.
In Lubenham, I met my future husband, Zbyszek. He along with his friends, Henio, and Janek worked in Kettering, a steel factory making 5 – 7 pounds a week. Henio was tall, dark and handsome; Janek the philosopher, always started a conversation with a question; Zbyszek was quiet, very sensitive with a sorrowful look in his eyes.
While I was interested in Henio, Zbyszek was interested in me. We started to go ‘out’. At that time I had to decide if I would seriously consider him as my future husband and asked my mother for advice. When I mentioned that he was a balding young man, she said that I had enough hair for the both of us!
Work in England for us was menial; the better jobs were reserved for English men and women. The attitude was this: if foreigners did not like it, they could go back where they came from. People will return home if there is a home, but if you are uprooted, you don’t care where you stay!
In 1949, Hela and Tadek, Adolek and father bought their first house at 27 Dover Road within a good district of Sheffield. It was a stone built semi-detached 3 storey house located near the botanical gardens and Ecclesall Park.
Sheffield was heavily bombed during the war and much of the city was destroyed. We worked in dilapidated buildings and the working conditions were deplorable. I felt degraded and often cried. I felt like I was wasting my life. Neither were my co-workers satisfied with me. They would smile to my face but call me a ‘bloody foreigner’ behind my back.
Oh, the feeling of being treated with dignity and as an equal in Canada!
Zbyszek and I married on May 27, 1950; a ‘Holy Year’. I bought a wedding gown for 3 pounds and made my own wedding bouquet of arum lilies.
Kazik, a son, was born to Hela and Tadek. (He is now a retired medical doctor living near London). Adolek married Zosia, blond and blue-eyed who came to England to join her brother from Africa, where they had spent the war years. They would have two children: Andrzej and Bozena.
It seemed that everybody was making plans to emigrate somewhere away from England. Zbyszek and I decided to join friends who were now in Canada. We were encouraged by their response to our letters and about the better prospects and possibilities for our future there.
Canada:
We sailed on Samaria at the end of May, 1952; Toronto was our final destination where we were met by two of Zbyszek’s army friends, Wojtek Olbrycht and Edek Kaspruk.
Together with our friends, we were optimistic and looked with faith into the future. One felt ‘free’ in this country. We had our own church, St. Casimir, Polish books, newspapers and a few Polish organizations offering a variety of activities.
In Canada, there were a lot of people who were newcomers and everybody was accepted. In all my travels, I can truly say that there is never a better or more democratic country than Canada. People are allowed to use their language, worship in their faith, stand for their human rights.
During our first year, we rented 2 rooms on Wright Avenue near Roncesvalles from old Polish immigrants, originally from Zakopane (highlands of Poland).
In 1953 we bought our first house, 196 Quebec Avenue near High Park for $9,400.00. It required a lot of renovation and improvement but we were not easily discouraged.
A year later, hurricane Hazel hit Toronto and the newspapers headlined ‘Toronto under water’. One week later, our son Christopher was born. To make ends meet, we had a succession of tenants in our small rooms upstairs, first (soon after our purchase of the house) to a Belgian couple, then later a Dutch couple who came from Indonesia and finally a German family. In 1956, we took full occupation of our house when our daughter Joanna was born. (My mother would say to me that my arrival brought good luck to my father).
It was in 1956 that Zbyszek finally got his permanent job with Toronto Hydro as an electrical draftsman (his profession as per his training). He stayed in this job for 30 years until retirement. He enjoyed job security, received promotions, wage increases, benefits, and an excellent pension. To be a contented person, one must work at something one likes and derives pleasure.
Our only extravagance while the children were growing was a long vacation we took in 1966 to Poland and England. Poland was celebrating 1,000 years of Christianity. We had mixed feelings concerning our visit to Poland. On our return, I knew then and there that my home is in Toronto! Our children pronounced that they are so happy that their parents have chosen Canada for their home and future.
On life experience and a reconnection:
One does a lot of things to survive and later when safe and secure, one reflects on the past. I didn’t at the time think of what was happening to my family when we came through the ordeal of the Soviet exile, but now realize that these things had an impact on me. I experienced anxiety as a result. I often think that I could take what I experienced, but had my children been there, they would not have survived.
As a parent, I now understand what my mother and Mrs. Andrzejewska went through in difficult and unimaginably dire circumstances.
I remembered about Irena Andrzejewska, sick with the measles and who at 7 years of age got left behind reluctantly by her mother in the Soviet Union during the desperate journey leaving Ozierki.
One day, while doing laundry, I decided to search for her and with the help of the Polish Red Cross, I was able to re-connect with her. Irena must have thought that I was her mother initially; her letters had so many questions asking who I was and how I knew her. I filled her in on what I knew of what happened to her family, particularly her mother who had passed and the details of where she was buried. She shared with me, her feeling of being rejected by her mother.
Irena, who was living near Moscow, had a 4 year old son, Olek (Sasha/Aleksander) with a married man who she had fallen in love with. I continued to correspond with her and sent her some parcels. Later I re-connected her to a cousin of hers who was living in Cracow, Poland and she and Olek eventually moved there. I often wondered if it was right for me to have searched and reached out to her. She did not adjust well to her life in Poland, became ill with schizophrenia, and eventually both she (in April, 1997) and Olek (in 2003) took their own lives. For a time however, her letters, now in Polish, conveyed a sense of feeling better about things. Olek was being educated in Poland and was growing up to be a fine young man. My daughter, Joasia visited them in 1977, when she attended a Polish language course at the Jagiellonian University.
Final excerpts:
I worked very hard in our family, as a stay at home mom when the children were young, then as a mail sorter, sales lady selling shoes at Eaton’s, then in the accounting department at Eaton’s and later at the Toronto Dominion Bank in the TD Centre downtown. I was liked there and offered a promotion which I turned down as I did not want the responsibilities that came along with it.
Once Christopher and Joanna were married and settled, and following the birth of my first granddaughter Nike (Dominique) in 1982, I stopped working outside the home. I was not driven to acquiring more material things or advancing my lifestyle through the grind of having to go to work each day. I was satisfied with what I already had, and happy and content with my life just as it was.
What we want to remember about our mother:
- She was practical, hardworking, and unpretentious.
- She was very humble and thrifty but most generous to her family.
- She was interested in and always up to date with current events and would often write newspaper articles voicing her comments and opinions on topics that she would feel strongly about.
- Her father would say the following about her meal preparation skills: that she could make something out of nothing.
- Outspoken, though she always meant well, and was strongly opinionated.
- Laughed boisterously, with her whole body.
- Made pierogi in record time.
- She would make our favourite foods; besides pierogi, she would make dumplings, cabbage rolls, bigos, nalesniki, gogiel-mogiel (beaten eggs with sugar).
- Our mother would teach us at times with sayings like: ‘Ktokolwiek spieszy, to sie diabel cieszy’ (the English version is: It’s better to be late at the golden gate, then to arrive in hell in a hurry); and she also had a sense of humour with sayings like 'Kto rano wstaje, to leje jak z cebra'. One of the impolite and silly ditties that she would sing and polka to was entitled the 'She's too fat polka'.
- Our mother could speak, read and write in Russian. She taught my brother and I some Russian songs like: 'W lesu rodilsya yelka' (pronounced yelochka), about a little tree growing in the forest: always green, no matter whether it is summer or winter. The wind is singing lullabies, sleep little tree, night, night. Beware the wolf, the vicious wolf.......
Another beautiful one is pronounced like this: 'Bog siegda budiet sointse, Bog siegda budiet nieba, Bog siegda budiet Mama, Bog siegda budiet Ja' ( (God bless the sun, God bless the sky/heavens, God bless Mama and God bless me).
- Mama would get teary over a sentimental or patriotic song.
- She loved to dance and taught us how to polka, waltz, tango and promenade to the polonaise.
- Was so very proud of my brother (Krzys), who in her later years, she would come to depend on and to trust in all matters; she spoke often of his loyalty, dedication, achievements and good heart.
- She was closest to her sister, Hela and missed her terribly when she passed away; Hela was her soul-mate; they often spoke on the phone and Mama could talk with her freely about anything.
- She survived breast cancer and wanted the women in her family to know their risks and to be sure to get regular screenings.
- Told me (Joasia), that I reminded her of Nike in disposition, character and outlook on life.
- Was grateful for her life, her children, and her good fortune to live in Canada, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren all of whom she loved with all her heart.
- While at Revera, she was a bit of a loner, but was well-liked by both residents and staff. She said that she never ate better in her life while at the residence, often recounting to me (Krzys) what she had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when I visited. Ever the gracious hostess, she would invite me (Joasia) to have lunch or supper with her (her treat), whenever I was in the city.
- She was an expert in some of the game-activities at the home, especially “Wheel of Fortune”.
- Mama was a God-fearing woman; she was always praying for us (and probably still doing so in heaven). May she rest in peace; we miss her.
- One of her last days was spent at our house (Krzys & Hania’s) for Wigilia (Christmas Eve, 2017), where, in spite of a snow storm, she agreed to attend. This was quite uncharacteristic for her, because of the weather and also because it was becoming more and more difficult for her to venture away from her home at Revera. She later recounted to me (Krzys), her joy on attending, complementing the home Christmas decorations (all of Hania’s doing) and the many courses of food. She was ever-smiling, happy, animated that night and provided us with a wonderful (last) memory.
