Losie (Nowy Sacz
County, Poland)
During
Akcja Visla, my own Lemko family was deported from the village of Losie
(Nowy Sacz County) to the devasted,
former German lands in western Poland (near
Wroclaw, which used to be Breslau, Germany). And yes,
it was truly a horrid, gut-wrenching experience
that no one should ever have to endure.
It was a beautiful, sunny summer day in peaceful
Losie in June of 1947. The hills and pastures were green, the
forests lush, and the flowers a burst
of every color in the rainbow. Then out of nowhere, and without any
warning, soldiers invaded the village, running from house to house,
pounding on doors with their rifle butts and shouting orders for everyone
to pack up what they could carry and be ready to evacuate the village--in
just 30 minutes. The Lemko villagers had no idea what was
happening or why, and no explanations were given.
After the villagers were all together, they were surrounded by armed soldiers
and led to a train station quite a distance away. Young and old, the
villagers walked, sat on a wagon, or rode in trucks for many miles and hours.
At the train station, villagers were split up--a few this way, a few over
there--and directed by the soldiers to waiting cattle cars, where they were packed
in with other families like sardines. Any livestock they
happened to bring along was loaded in as well. People on one side of the car,
animals on the other.
It was all very efficient. Some time later, the car doors were slammed
and bolted shut. They would remain that way for the rest of the
journey. For many, this would be the last time they would ever see their beautiful
homeland again.
The boxcar had no windows, no toilet facilities, and no food or water
(except what people brought with them). There was nowhere to sit
or sleep except the floor. It was sweltering hot. No breeze. No
fresh air. No cooling off in the evenings. There was no privacy
to do the normal things a body needs to do. And the people went days and
sometimes a week or more without seeing daylight.
It wasn't long before the closed-in air became unbearably foul with the
stench of farm animals, sweating people, animal and human excrement,
people vomiting. Illness and disease soon became rampant. But
there was no medicine. The attitude of those in charge was simply "if they
die, they die"--which
many did.
Pregnant women lost their babies or died in childbirth. With no food
or water, new mothers could't produce enough milk to feed their babies,
and the babies died. Other mothers starved themselves to death in order
to feed their children. The days, nights, weeks, months were
filled with the agonizing cries of hungry children and babies,
the moans of the sick and dying, and the sobs
of the family members who lost them. To make things even
worse, dead bodies stayed in the closed boxcar until the next stop--which could
be as long as a week. During the stop, the people would scurry to look
for anything that might be edible or a drop of water.
The trains carrying the Lemkos were in no hurry. Any time another train
a distance away might need access to a crossing along the Lemko train's
path, the Lemko train would stop and wait until the other train passed
by. And
when the Lemko train needed to change tracks, the engineers took their
good old time while the people sat sweltering inside the boxcars.
It's reported that some engineers played "games" with their Lemko passengers. One "game" was
to repeatedly speed up the train and suddenly
put on the brakes, which would toss the people and animals in the cars
around and on top of each other. If you suffered a broken bone,
too bad. Another "game" was
to stop at the Auschwitz concentration camp and open the doors
to scare the
passengers into thinking they were going there to be gassed. This
frightened the people inside the cars so much that, in their frenzy
to move to the back of the car, they actually trampled other people
in the car to death.
Some Lemkos tried to escape but were usually captured, beaten, or shot. In
the end, a journey that might normally take four to five hours took
up to three months. Imagine three months locked up with all
that.
My family finally reached it's resettlement village in September. The area
was pretty devastated by the bombing and fierce fighting that had taken
place there during the war. And the landscape was barren and flat--not
anything like beautiful Lemkovyna.
The father was given the choice of three houses for his family of seven. He
picked the best one--a two-room house with no roof, no windows, no
stove, no electricity, no furniture, no heat--nothing. But it did have
four walls. Since most of the floorboards had been torn up, the
family slept on floorboards or the dirt floor until they could scrape together
enough remnants or money to start fixing things.
The parents and older children tried to find work. But, at first,
no one would hire them. This wasn't because the Poles were bad people. It
was because of what else had been happening at the time.
You see, Western Poland was where the Eastern Poles (whose lands ended
up being
attached to Ukraine) were resettled when they were permitted to return to Poland. But
when the Lemkos were deported from Lemkovyna and
being sent to Western Poland, these same Eastern Poles got uprooted
again--this time to resettle in Lemko villages that were now vacant. Imagine
how the Poles must have felt. It wasn't fair either way. Unfortunately,
some of the Eastern Poles were so angry, they burned down their houses
before they left so that the Lemkos couldn't have them.
So it was already a hostile atmosphere before the Lemkos ever arrived.
The Western Poles had probably never seen a Lemko before and didn't
know anything about them--other than thinking the Lemkos were to blame
for the Eastern Poles being sent away and were coming to take their
place. Lemkos
were complete strangers--and not one of their own. (And we
all know the attitude toward
"outsiders" even in the U.S. at that time.)
When the Lemkos finally arrived and got off the train, they were dirty and
stinking from their long journey--and probably had few clean or untattered
clothes to change into even later. They had lice and were covered
with sores. And because the Lemkos had so little, they were probably
looked like beggars and thieves. So besides being pre-disposed to not
liking the Lemkos, the Poles didn't trust them either.
To make matters worse, the Lemkos spoke a different language that was
certainly wasn't Polish. So to the Poles, the Lemko weren't even
Polish. But the language problem was short-lived because the
government had forbidden the Lemkos from speaking the Lemko language. So
the Lemkos had to learn to speak Polish (or Russian) very quickly.
The government also singled out the Lemkos in other ways. Lemkos were
forbidden to identify themselves as Lemkos, to read Lemko literature,
to practice their Lemko traditions, to wear anything that might identify
them as Lemko. Getting caught doing so meant punishment or even death. (Yet
many brave families managed to secretly keep their "Lemko-ism" alive
behind the doors of
their own homes.)
To the Poles, the Lemkos were also different because they were Greek Catholic--not
Roman Catholic like the rest of Poland. (During Soviet times,
in Poland, unlike Slovakia, the Roman Catholic Church was tolerated.) Since
there were no Greek Catholic churches in Western Poland when the Lemkos
arrived, the Lemkos usually went to the local Roman Catholic church--or
no church at all. They (like all poor Poles) couldn't afford a car or
gasoline to travel to one of the few Orthodox churches a distance away.
But not all local Poles treated the Lemkos badly. Some were very
kind to their new neighbors and tried to help them out--a chicken here,
some eggs there, a few scraps of wood, an old mattress, some handyman work,
etc. And
the Lemkos quickly proved to be good workers.
Gradually, the ethnic Lemkos and ethnic Poles started getting along--and
a number eventually intermarried (which was not surprising given that many
Lemkos attended Roman Catholic churches.) But, unfortunately, there
are still those who carry hard feelings from those days to the present.
I first realized the importance of my Lemko traditions the first time
I stayed with my Lemko relatives in 1998. We were sitting around the
table, eating and drinking (what else?). Then my relatives started
singing Lemko songs I recalled from my childhood, and without realizing
it, I started singing
along. Suddenly, an older cousin (who resembles Archie Bunker)
started to cry. When I asked why, I learned that he was so moved
to learn that Lemkos who had emigrated to America had kept the Lemko
traditions alive during all those years that the Lemkos in Poland were
forbidden to do so.
Most of the Lemkos I've met in Poland consider themselves Polish citizens
of Lemko extraction/ethnicity. But the further east you go, I
notice an increasing number of Lemkos with the Ukrainian orientation.) But
ethnicity doesn't ever seem to come up except among Lemkos. On
the other hand, how often does the question of ethnicity comes up in the
workplace or normal day-to-day conversations?
To really understand how strong the Lemko identity is in Poland today,
you have to attend one of the Lemko Vatras held there every summer. The
one I've been to (and will be attending again this August as part of
the Lemko Tour) is held outside the town of Michalow in western Poland. It's
called the "Vatra of Lemkos in Exile." It's purpose is to
bring the Lemkos together to celebrate the ongoing survival of the
Lemko people and their Lemko heritage. (Another Lemko vatra of Ukrainian
orientation is held in Zdnya--in June, I believe.)
Throngs of Lemkos from all over Poland and other countries attend this
festive reunion--young and old alike. There are on-going performances by
young school children, teenagers, and adults--all singing, dancing and playing
Lemko music. One particularly well-known high-school-aged group
is called "Lemkovyna," (which practices in Gorlice.) But the
most popular and well-known
ensemble is "Kychera," headquartered in Legnica, which performs
all over the world.
There are several grammar schools starting up in Poland that teach the
Lemko language and culture--and more are coming. There are Lemko organizations
and Lemko newspapers (written in the Lemko language, not Polish.) I
could go on and on, but there is considerably more Lemko activism going
on in Poland than you may think. And I'm only aware of some of
it.
Now that isn't to say that all of Poland knows (or cares) about the Lemkos or
considers them equals. Lemkos are still a minority in Poland, and they
are generally looked upon the same way many minorities are looked upon
here in the U.S. But again, things are changing as Lemkos get more
publicity--some good, some not. For example, a town in northwestern
Poland (I can't recall the name) recently dedicated the town or
town tower to the Lemkos.
While Akcja Visla has finally been acknowledged by the Polish government, it's
still kind of "hush-hush." Lemkos have been allowed to petition
to have their land returned to them, or to be reimbursed for the land
and possessions taken away from them. But there's a lot of red
tape and it can be
costly.
As for Lemkos being "hillbillies," actually, we are. (But
not necessarily with the same connotation that we think of "hillbillies" here.) After
all, our people did come from remote areas of the mountains. In
fact, there's another breed of "hillbillies" practically
next door to Lemkovyna called
Podhale--the area of the High Tatras in Poland (e.g. Zakopane) and Slovakia
(e.g. Stara Lubovna)--where the Gorale live. But the Gorale call
themselves "Highlanders." So maybe we Lemkos should
call ourselves "Lowlanders!"
As for Lemkos being poor and uneducated, that has changed. The
one good thing the Soviets did for our people was to give them a good
education--including University.
Yes, it's still hard
for many people in Poland
to make a good living these days--particularly if they live in small,
out-of-the-way villages. And people on pensions have a tough time. But
we've got the same thing here. And since becoming a member
of the EU, things in Poland have gotten much better.
Some Lemkos have already become very successful. For example, about 10
or so years ago, a young Lemko couple, Jan and Janina Kopcza, bought an old,
rundown villa in Legnica that used to house Russian military officers when
Russians lived in Legnica. The Kopcza's completely restored the place
to its original elegance--and received Poland's top architectural
award. The
villa is
now an inn and four-star restaurant where you can sit outside on the patio
and dine surrounded by magnificent gardens.
Halina and Andrezj Malecky are Lemkos from central Lemkovyna (Gorlice
County.) During the year, they are school teachers. In the
summer, they lead individual tours of Lemkovyna (which are usually
booked well in advance.)
As far as the languages Lemkos speak, I guess it depends on which part of
Poland they lived in. The Lemko adults I know who would have been
attending school during the Soviet era have spoke Polish since Akcja Visla. But
they probably learned Russian in school. In Western Poland,
they also speak German--and in eastern Lemkovyna, Ukrainian. There's
an increasing number of
Lemkos who speak
English--particularly in the cities and in the younger generations.
So, hopefully, if you've had the patience or interest to have read
all of his, you will have a greater appreciation of and increased
pride in
what our people have suffered, what they overcame, and the strength
it took to climb up from minus 0 to where they are today. That's
the sort of spirit that's
represented by the bear in the Rusyn emblem.
Nancy nsrevak@aol.com
Click to enlarge.
