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Since some had problems with the attatchment, I am reentering this again.?

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In 1997, curiosity got the best of me in regards to my ancestral heritage.

My father had passed away and Siberia always remained a real fear for him while he was alive.? Surviving what he had in his past, he wasnt keen on going back there.?? My mother as well no longer wished to go back because of her age.

?? As a child I spoke Polish but in adulthood never used it, so consequently was very bad at it.? I, as well? as my brother and sisters, had never had the opportunity to?meet or know our extended families who lived in Poland and Ukraine.? We only knew of them through a box of pictures, and stories from letters, passed on to us. I must also say that as youngsters this wasnt of much importance to us, nor was the history of our parents. It was their life, but indirectly because of their past, we always felt different from the other kids.? We knew our heritage was different.? For young children, this wasnt always great, because you wanted to be like everybody elses family. Starting school, speaking another language, didnt help either, because it ostersized you from day one. You had to speak Polish at home and learn English at school. You had to be tough to put up with the name calling and sneers from school kids.? Many who grew up as first generation Canadians can relate to this. At home, we ate cabbage rolls and perogies, and garlic, but nobody else in town ate like this. And certainly no one cooked pigs feet and made jelly out of them. My Mom baked our own bread in a wood stove, and us kids begged for store bought bread like the other kids had.? I think this is hilarious now as people crave for a fresh loaf of home-baked bread from the oven and there is never a function anymore that doesnt serve cabbage rolls and perogies at their dinner.

?If they dont it aint? worth goin to.

My parents met each other in Canada after the war.? They had both come here on work contracts as returning to their homeland was not advised at the time.? Six hours after they met, they decided to get married, and? they? were married for 39 years before my father passed away.??? Their only communication with loved ones that theyd left behind was through letters and pictures.? They both waited for those letters from Poland and were always disappointed because they were so short.?? Even tho we had never met our relatives, their lives were intertwined with ours, which I must give credit to my Mother for that.? She shared everything in letters with them from what she grew in her garden to our everyday, menial? life.

?After my Dad passed away, we had brought my mothers sister from Lwow for a short visit and so I?had briefly gotten to know her.?They hadnt seen each other for over 50 years, separated as children, and reunited as grandmothers. When she came to Canada, I approached the T.V. station with their story and they covered our joyous reunion.? It was wonderful and these two old grammas initially not recognizing each other, felt like movie stars in front of all the cameras. Everywhere they went that week, people in the city recognized them from the television. It was not difficult to recognize because my Mom at 80 still wears her ethnic braids wound around her head, which you never see anymore.? My aunt from Ukraine couldnt see enough of herself on the taped segments and we had to show them over and over again as she giggled at herself.

?After 40 years of age,? I started to reteach myself to speak Polish and taught myself to read?and write.?Oh God, how I wished this had been more important to me in my younger years to hang on to my language skills. It is difficult to teach an ol dog new tricks.? What had brought me shame in elementary school, I so much wanted back now.?? With broken Polish I?painstakingly through letters contacted every living member of both sides of my family whose addresses I could find.? I wanted to know more about where my parents had come from and what were their families like.? I knew I would never understand any of this unless I went there myself, but where was I to go??Limited Polish and no Ukrainian.? I thought "what the hell....might as well start in the Ukraine.?I thought at?least there my Polish might sound good.?

By myself, I flew Edmonton-Toronto then Air Ukraine to Lwow.? Air Ukraine is an adventure in itself, one that I hope never to take again.... unless I am drunk....before I get on the plane. Just to make my point clearer I will share this with you.? While I was on the plane there was a very old, frail, sick man with his daughter. The daugther obviously was taking the old man back to his country for a visit, and he just happened to be sick on the journey.? I overheard him saying in Polish? " I?feel so sick, I think I'm going to die! To which?the daughter?abruptly answered" If you don't , I will kill you myself for booking us on this bloody flight!".? Of course I chuckled, because I understood what she meant.?

Anyhow with very poor language skills I did okay.? My father was Polish and my mother was Ukrainian, so I was aware of all the ancestral hostilities, even tho we were never raised with that in our home.? I was perhaps a little ignorant at the time as I didnt really know the history of either country very well.? The first week in Lwow was an introduction to a lifestyle I couldnt have imagined.? ?I stayed with family members in the city, who graciously put me up for a week before?I would venture into Poland.??They were?Ukrainian and coached me patiently in Polish language skills.? Even though I spoke no Ukrainian, I could understand everything they said to me and they were amazed.?I was amazed.?? Crazy as it sounds, I always said that I felt that my Dads spirit guided me, because Polish words came out of my mouth that I hadnt used for over 40 years. It guided me until I had to throw back a kieliszek z woodki, and then I was on my own, gasping for air and reaching for the water.? With practise I improved by the end of my trip.?

As everyone who has been there knows, the country is very poor and ravaged, thanks to communistic leadership.? In all the destruction and neglect over the years you can still see what once was so magnificently beautiful.? It is strange how all the splendor can still shine through the decay.? Before the war, they used to call Lwow Little Vienna because it was such a beautiful and charming city. Now churches, city buildings and homes are turning into rot, because there is no money to restore all of them. But Lwow is still beautiful.?

You could lose your whole car in the potholes of the streets. Driving on the streets is an art in itself.? My hands were over my eyes most of the time, so I would not hyperventilate.? Street vendors on every corner sell their produce to locals.? Meat and chickens sit uncovered, as flies are swatted away.? Fresh eggs, milk and cream exposed to the sun. Bouguets of fresh vibrant flowers on most corners sell for next to nothing.? I remember a volkswagon with the back seat ripped out and the whole car was filled with unwrapped fresh loaves of bread.? If you buy something you need a bag, or wrapping paper because they have none for you.? Im sure the customary shots of vodka kill the bacteria. There are many things that made me look twice, but all in all, I loved this country.??

?? My aunt lives in a one- bedroom apartment with five adults, in a 2 -story building that is 300 years old. ?Unbelievable!? It is in downtown Lwow and must have been owned once by a very, rich landlord. The once elegant staircases, now delapitated overtime, spiral upward and the second story is encircled by a balcony,? overlooking the middle of what once might have been a glorious courtyard with flowers and shrubs.? It now is a dirty, grey hole filled with clotheslines and visably unattended.? Everything is in ruin from neglect. People look after their own apartments on the inside, because they have to live there, but what is outside their door is somebody elses problem.? They cant afford to fix it so why worry about it. Some cant even shower or take a bath in their own home because there arent the facilites.? They must go to a public shower and take along their own thongs to protect their feet to avoid catching something from the filth from the floors as they bathe. Yes they do have regulated water for three hours every morning and every evening and you do stockpile it. The funny thing about this is that some places will get hot water in those three hours, while others only get cold.? I went in September and the hot water that had been shut off in May, came on in the middle of October as I was leaving, so I did not have the privlege of hot water from the tap.? Apartments were heated by central heating and did not come on until November. I managed to get a flu while I was there ( no wonder) and thank God I had packed my good ol rubber, hot water bottle.? There is never a day now that I dont appreciate my own thermostat control in my home and my shower with hot and cold taps. It gave me new meaning for appreciation that I never knew before.? When the elevator broke in one apartment that I stayed in we walked the eleven flights stairwell, back and forth. I said Cant you call a technician to fix this?? They laughed and said Haniu, this is Sunday in Ukraina!.

?And we pay to go to a gym for daily exercise!? I would never step into an elevator that had more than two people in it, in case we were stuck in it for hours. I would wait for an empty one, if one was full.?? They just laughed at me.?

Toilets in the country are a disaster everywhere you go and to this day I still cannot understand how they can be so bad.? I dont care how new the house or building is, the toilets are disgusting.? That is just the way it is.? I went to a wedding in a small village where the people raved about its brand new community hall and pointed out their wooden carvings and artistries.? And where do you think the bathrooms were?? In behind the darkness of the hall in the bushes,? which you couldnt see, because there were no lights.? And I dont mean that there was an outhousejust open bush. Long dresses and formal attire, all blowin in the wind.???? People dont seem to mind.?? I just cannot understand how the toilet department is not an issue with these people and so much an issue with us North Americans.

?No wonder their? Lasy are so lush.

?From Lwow, by vehicle I went to Poland and there were long lineups at the Polish-Ukrainian border, and we had to pay a fee for crossing over. We drove on through Przemysl, to Stankowa, near Sanok, where my mother had been raised.? As a teenage girl, my mother had been?taken from her home by the Germans, when? they? invaded and placed her? in Austria for forced labour. After the war she came to Canada and never got to see her family again.? Her sister Zosia at nine years old, had gone to Lwow to visit family and after the war, was not allowed? to return? to her parents in Stankowa.?She remained living in Lwow and?had not seen her village in Poland, for 55 years.?Lwow was not that far away,? but because of their finances and govt regulations, she was never able to go there.? I took her with me to Poland and together we set our feet on Polish soil.?I do not have to tell you how emotional this was for both of us.?

? She revisited everything she could only recall for fifty years in dreams.? Her home was gone, destroyed many years ago by the Russians who had set fire to it. She kissed the ground and put a little dirt into a pouch for me to take home for my mother, so she could touch her soil once again. For this little packet of dirt, I would almost be charged with smuggling and sent to jail, when I returned to Canada.? Never , never take dirt home for your mother or grandmother or anybody else who has emotional, earthly ties to a country.? Or should I saynever, never get caught with dirt!! I must say also that I was aware of this federal? no,no, but gave in to emotional reasons.?

My Aunt saw her old schoolhouse and of course everyone in a small village comes out in the first half hour, to see the new tourists in town.? We met up with people who had gone to school with my mother and my aunt, and mouths dropped to the ground as introductions were made.? ?Old women jumping with joy, hugging and kissing each other like giddy girls on a recess break from school.? And of course more tears.

?When I went on my trip, I had worn false eyelashes for 20 years and had been very vain about them, never missing a day.? But with all this crying, I couldnt keep them glued to my eyelids.? Between all the videotaping I had to do and the tears, I finally had to release my eyelashes to the Polish wind and let my eyes be naked. I never thought I would see the day that this would happen.? Vanity can disappear very quickly.? Besides that, there never was a mirror in any bathroom where I could reglue them, if I could find a bathroom.? The forests just arent equipped like that.? One writer said Take your toilet paper!.( I shipped mine over with Kleenex and Wet ones, which created howls of laughter.? Im sure they thought to themselves?? You spoiled Canadian girl!.?? Their toilet paper is like our craft, crepe paper and it is brown.?? When we ran out of paper dinner napkins I went for a roll of my white,? fluffy, Canadian,? Charmann toilet paper and everybody died laughing.but used it!? You do what you have to do!? There is never a place to just wash your hands, so a packet of Wet Ones is a must in your back pack or purse.

?I spoke with many Ukrainian people who couldn't have been more gracious with me. And they all had to converse with me through Polish.?? I went there with an open heart and mind and listened to both sides tell their past. I sat in one room with Poles and Ukrainians together and heard their family stories and felt their pain.

?I traveled?across to northern Poland with a taxi to Miedzyborz where I met my Moms only surviving brother.?? He and his parents had been relocated there in 1947 through "Acjia Wisla".? Her other brother disappeared during the war.? I visited my grandparents graves and regretted very much that I had to do this alone.? As a child growing up in the 50s this was unconceivable to me that one day this would be possible.

?Again the families recounted their tragic histories for me and told me of their fight for survival during the war years. They spoke of their hunger- filled years and of the running for safety into the forests when nighttime came because they were afraid in their own homes.?? My uncle told me of how they were resettled in the spring with no money and very little food.? The crops were green and they were starved.? They had to grind the green grain and try to make bread from it.? They shared a home with German people who had taken cover there, and had nothing to eat either. These were just plain, poor Ukrainian peasant farmers who got shuffled around?and caught up in a politcal game.

?I travelled on to Szczenin, Goleniow and Legnica where I met all my Polish families.?These people were Polish and had also been relocated from Wolyn during the war and forced to resettle in the reclaimed lands with few friends and families.?Many had left behind close Ukrainian and Polish families and friends.? Some of these paid the price of war by being seperated and? interned by the Germans while others blamed the Russians for their misfortune.

?Now here I am, a Polish-Ukrainian Canadian who never experienced war and only know what I have been told and what I have read. ?Both my parents and their families on both sides experienced the pain of war from each others countries and Germany and Russia.? My feelings stand that unless you walked the?path, you have no right to change the tale.? Everyone has their own story and everyone has a right to tell it the way they lived it.? Everybody experienced something different, depending much on the area that they came from.? But tragedy is tragedy, regardless of who experiences it.

??I am so grateful that I was able to hear from each of them how they lived.? I admire the strengths of these old people for what they lived through and how they had to come to terms with the horrific changes in their lives. I dont know if I could handle those changes and losses, with the same grace and dignity that they had.???? The conversations werent always about war and suffering.? People were happy to relate their times of joy before the darkness fell.

?Only people who have gone to visit their ancestral homes can understand the connection they feel amongst their own people.? It is undescribable and it is a feeling of being home.? You search for a little bit of yourself in every face you meet.? And when you do see something that does resemble yourself or your family back home, you cry. And then they cry.? After two weeks in Poland running around like a gypsy, I returned to the Ukraine on a train.? When you cross the border you sit for four hours while they change the wheels on the trains, because the tracks are different.? Gustapo-like officials with heavy boots pounding down the hallways,? came to every compartment and checked our identification and our baggage. First the Polish and then the Ukrainains. I must admit that for a few minutes, a sense of fear from old stories ran through my mind.? I thought this was a bit intimidating and at the same time hilarious. After all the security and the passport confirmations, they let young, vagrant gypsy children into the compartment cars to beg from door to door,? for money or treats. I thought to myself how absurd this was after all the extensive passport checking.?? I gave the kids chips and chocolate bars with some Canadian money, as I shook my head in disbelief at this bizarre event that I had just witnessed.? There were three men in the next compartment to me.? They knew I was a tourist and warned me to stay in my compartment at the border stop with my door locked.

?I must say that at this point I was pretty Polished- out, language-wise.? I really needed some silence, and time to just empty out my brain and process everything I had experienced.? I had not had any English for almost three weeks and no one to share with? my journey experiences.? The men in the next compartment were Polish and very friendly and wanted to talk. Yoy, Boze.? As it turned out they were with a television firm and were taping a segment in Lwow and wanted to interview me as a tourist.? This was almost too funny, because like I said my language skills were not that great and I was a bit embarrassed to speak that publicly.? They thought I spoke fine and we made arrangements to meet in front of the Adam Miskewicz monument in Lwow and I was given the opportunity to tell Poland of my visit as a Canadian, my feelings and best of all to say hello? to all my familieswho ended up unexpectedly seeing me on this half hour program that aired every week. Can you imagine their shock?

What a wonderful finale this was for me.

?I spent the rest of my three weeks in Ukraine.? By this time my language skills had improved quite a bit and I was already experiencing dreams in Polish vocabulary.

?Was I an conversion or what?

?The trip for me was so unbelievable and it awakened in me such a strong desire to learn more about that history.?By 2001 I had made contact with two more families in Poland, that I had not had a chance to meet the first time. I knew I had to go back, because now the history was a bit clearer? to me and my agenda felt unfinished. I also wanted to see more of Poland. When my Dad died he also had never seen any of his family again.? My goal was to revisit his country and light a candle for him, at every graveside of all his eight brothers and sisters, and his parents, as he had not had that chance.? I had to travel all over the bloody country like I was on some kind of pilgrimage, but I did it.? I also wanted to visit his village of Gaj Swiecicki,? that he never had a chance to see again after he left.? During my first trip, I was unable to do this.? I was able to do that this time and met some of his old school mates.

I knelt at my grandfathers grave in Poland, which most of my Polish families living in Poland, hadnt even seen. My grandmothers grave had disappeared overtime.

??I traveled on to Staszow, Katowice, Aushwitz, and Warsaw.? I have seen every grave and made contact with every living relative on both sides of my family.? I took everyones stories and pictures and put them all together into a family book for those in the future who might care to see what their ancestors looked like.

?I feel very full-filled that I had the opportunity to do this and it did give me some closure for feelings that I had.? It also gave me a better understanding of my parents.

?I write this long-winded document for anybody out there who would like to do this journey but is afraid because of not having fluent language skills.? My advice is to follow your heart and test your curiosities.? The rewards of this adventure are endless.? You will never regret it.? The countries are absolutely beautiful, and you will never experience the Europeon? ambiance in North America. The customs like the people are rich and warm.? People will somehow always understand each other. You strip away our languages and our cultures and we are all the same and we learn to communicate with each other. The trains are a wonderful way to travel and very efficient.? Beats our way of travel in between towns.? There is much we could learn from them.

?Anyone traveling to Ukrainemy advice is fly Polish Lot if possible, to Warsaw .night over and fly to Lwow the next day.? I was very impressed with Polish Lot. Flight to Lwow is an hour and a half, whereas a train ride there will take all day.

?I get a little bit teary- eyed as I think about how much I have learned over the last six years and how a family in an old box of pictures became real for me.?? Coming across the Kresy- site was like icing on the cake for me.? I couldnt believe there were so many people out there with the same interests in their parents pasts with so many unanswered questions.? And how important this all is to us.? I look forward to reading everyones contributions to this quest we all share and have learned so much since becoming a member.? And as I do on a continual basisI urge anybody with older family members still alive, to talk to them as much as possible about their pasts from this era, if you are in the least bit interested. The truth dies with them and there arent many left that can still recount with clarity the events as they happened.

?Thanks to Steven Wisniowski for having the insight to educate North America through this web-site and give each one of us searching for a piece of the past, a great place to start.? And many thanks to all those involved, who on a daily basis contribute time from their own lives,? to make this a great website.

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?Your families would be so proud if they could see the life you have breathed back into their legacies.

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If you could see your ancestors all standing in arow

There probably would be a few you wouldn't care to know

But here is an interesting point of view

How many of them would be proud of you?"