I grew up in Riverstone, New South Wales, Australia, ?a little town which time forgot, complete with steam trains and a small Polish Community mixed from all over, living with each other as in a village in the old country, but there was a definite two sides to the fence.? Little Poland or Aussie.?

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I wavered between the two sides, seeing many living in Little Poland and rejecting it later in life and others totally defiant from start of school, not wanting to know their heritage, or speak their parents language and many parents did not talk of the war and their personal experiences and others hid behind the Vodka.

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We had monthly Polish dances, where the grown-ups, would teach the younger how to dance, speak the Polish language, drink and eat good Polish food, ?but then the Rock n Roll, Twist and Stomp came in. ?I was lucky, looking back in hindsight, to learn the old dances, something the Aussie did not know, except for the Barn Dance, Heel and Toe Polka, ?we learned at school.

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Our food was looked down on by Australians, but with the Italians and other cultures, whom we felt comfortable with and shared recipes, they gradually became brave enough to taste our cuisine.

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We traded eggs for honey, made our own cheese and grew vegetables, teaching the Australians many things and they came to respect our parents, even with their funny way of speaking and accents. ??Especially respected my father for his Horticultural and building skills.

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I was severely teased at school and with my parents domestic difficulties and lack of money, because they had to labourer jobs, now recognize this as PTSD re home life, which terrified me and my brother and we could never fit in with our own kind or Australians, which in turn reflected on our education. ??We managed reasonably well, later in life.

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I began research and understanding the Polish experience, returned to my Roots, ?which explained much, if not all that occurred with my parents during my childhood and I am now proud to have Polish blood in my veins.? ?

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Whereas, my brother like many others, totally rejected his childhood, his parents heritage and went into denial until his death, causing sickness after sickness in his own body, until his body deteriorated so much, he died last year and even at his funeral, we were not allowed to be Polish, sitting separate from his family and told not to speak of our heritage.

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Now in these last few years, I have seen an acceptance and honour given, in Australia, ?to people of Polish decent, with our food, our culture, getting a revival and new interest and we are becoming multi-cultural in the true sense.

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I look fondly back to those days of growing up with parents who could not speak English, using me as translator, our way of life on 6 acres of land, our little farm and would not change it, except wish my parents were not afraid or so traumatised from WWII and they could communicate freely with relatives in Poland, without the censorship or fear of retribution to their loved ones back home, taking away their loneliness in an Alien country, which became their second home and they gave their all and their life to, ripped away from Poland, wanting to be connected but could not because of Communism and their own Exile, accepting their new Country Australia as home until death, where they became free to go back to their real home and family.

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Warmest regards

Lenarda, Sydney Western Suburbs, Australia

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