My story as a migrant Child - (by Marysia Buczek)
September 2007
My Name is Marysia Buczek (married Maria Crawford) as a 5 year old (turned 5 on ship) Polish child arrived in Australia 29th of September 1950 on an Italian ship name Casta Bianca arriving Melbourne & disembarking 30th September 1950, with my parents Nadia & Piotrek (Peter) Buczek, Polish migrants we were displaced people. I would like to share a little of what they went through during war prior our journey to Australia as Displaced people if I may.
Short snippets of my parent’s lives
My parents were taken from their country & brought to be slaves to the 3rd Reich in Germany. Mum & dad were brought to farms near the village of Donauworth during the war. Their lot was not easy though mum said it was a little easier compared to the people who worked in German factories. As a slave labourer mum worked on farms with food only once a day, which consisted of a slice of dried bread & watery thin soup, she was versatile and when milking the cow would squirt milk into her mouth, when gathering eggs would consume 1 raw egg here and there. Very hard and long hrs for a young teenager as the owners on the farm had 3 sons & they were in the SS army and she had been whipped by them when she was pregnant with me as well.
Dad was working on the farms he said very little, very little indeed, mum said they had Sunday afternoon off they were not allowed to gather in groups etc. They had a huge P for Poland sewn on the shoulder of their tops, from what mum said dad would gather many of them to come together at the Black Forest and she said he would say lets forget for the afternoon where we are and with what’s going on. He played piano accordion beautifully and harmonica and been known to use anything, even a leaf to blow through. He taught himself to hum a tune and he would start with a bar or two know it) they sang and they danced in the forest, he instigated time out to come together.
Dad had been in a concentration camp that too was another story; he told me that 150 men went in the same day he was in a chain gang breaking huge rocks and 3 months later 50 survived, when he was released. Another story he mentioned having a noose placed around his neck by the SS soldiers in the Black Forest in Germany but saved literally by the American army soldiers. Mum informed me prior her death that at the black forest dad’s friend was hung and dad had to take his dead friend down and was told he would be next.
By this time the war was ending and the Allies were bombing everywhere, it was a frightening experience with people being hit all around you as you ran for your life, dad was trying to help mum who was pregnant with me.
Then there was chaos with bombs flying, complete disorder, trying to get away wherever, very frightening.
Around March/April they had nowhere to go, no home or food etc. the Allies tried to set up accommodation for all these refugees - displaced people as we were called. I was born in the midst of this in August1945, mum had me in the Donauworth hospital laundry floor with no one in attendance, her first child solo, 19 yrs old terrified, damaged and only child she could have, very horrific experience.
They were shuttled from place to place sometimes spending only 2 weeks at one place. They sometimes shared a large room with 3 other families, each had a corner in the room, they had nothing, they were given parcels each week a box, which many bartered with e.g. Mum didn’t smoke and cigarettes came in the box so she used to buy me milk, needing extra nourishment for me a babe, or with even German people she would barter as they were victims too and had no help so would sell off things and she would buy some necessities, baby clothes, pram, blankets, for nearly 5 years this was how we lived, not wanted and nowhere to go.
Then they were asking countries to take these people, I believe many Churches particular the Catholic Church sponsored and the countries, I remember mum said we nearly went to Argentina, then we were up for America many friends went there; we missed out through, mums health not being great at the time, then came Australia she was I believe very excited as she remembered in school learning about this country and had a desire to go there. To her it was the Garden of Eden to the day she died she never regretted coming here even though many Australian people did not treat her/us well.
From Ausburg Germany in 1950 we were transported by train through to Italy where we boarded an Italian ship. The men were separated from their wives and Children (women with children were segregated). I remember mum and I shared our cabin coming out to Australia with Mrs. Cham. Her children older daughter Bozena & her youngest daughter Elizabeth 18 months shared the bunk with me. Many of the families in Ballarat came out together on this same ship at the same time.
The men I believe slept in the large dining room, which had been turned into their sleeping quarters. I remember dad took a dislike to tomato sauce and pasta which lasted until the day he died, mum and I never had that problem and I still enjoy Italian food as well as Polish & other European and Asian food.
I believe travelling through the seas took us 3 months, I turned 5 years on the ship (1st of Aug) we docked 8 weeks later left June/July I believe. I have only vague memories - mum being seasick, I had a lump on my head, and little about crossing Suez Canal with these boats laden with wares the Turkish carpets I vaguely remember they were very cheap coming up close. It appears there was bartering as the didn’t have money to my knowledge, it was very colourful and seeing these little boats bobbing up and down loaded with wares I remember being fascinated looking over the edge of the ship. I do remember mum got one of those animals wall hanging. If my memory is correct, they were tied to a rope which had been tied to the ware and then pulled up and the payment was the same. There was a lot of noise yelling and bartering. Even though mum did six years ago, she still had the wall hanging although it was a bit battered.
We arrived and docked in Melbourne, then we went to a small town camp in north of Victoria, the name escapes me. Then we went to Mildura (I went there a couple of years ago and sadly they have obliterated the camp with no mention anywhere of our existence).
Once again the men were separated from the women and children. The men were taken to off work for (6months) this was a way for them to pay back the Australian government for their fare over to Australia. Mum helped in the kitchen in the Mildura camp and I went first time to school or preschool I believe. They must have been earning some money as after 6 months many worked in Ballarat Rail ways and picked grapes eventually some ended up in factory work.
Many of the families settled down in Ballarat, SADLY I must mention here that the treatment of these hard working displaced people /families who were trying to make a life and forget their homeland, war and families left behind never to see them again with very peaceful customs and culture who were working hard, trying to save and enjoy this new country make a new life were insulted, verbally abused and financially taken for a ride. Their very hard earned pounds, land price was massive in 1952 over 200 pounds for them with very high interest charged by some individual Australians.
They grew their own vegies used every ounce of ground, ran chooks, stored much of their food in pickling and storing in cold garage/sheds hanging there onions and garlic etc.)
Arriving in Ballarat my parents could only rent a room. They had no furniture the 3 of us slept on a mattress on the floor for 2 years. The landlord an elderly gentleman was very kind and he wanted to help. He was a survivor from the war who came home with one arm missing, his wife was unhappy that we were living there, so we had to stay in our room till 7 pm before we could come out and mum cook a meal for us. I remember to this day the song that used to be played before the ABC News, they went to bed, then very, very quietly like mice we would come out, mum would quickly cook tea, we had to be quiet otherwise the lady of the house complained, we literally whispered, I remember being so glad coming out of our little room, I felt free for such a short time. It was warm near the stove. I still remember the address - 24 Duke Street. Poppy is what I called him (had no aunts/uncles/or grandparents just mum dad and I.) I got to know him & love him very dearly he was so kind and he always gave me bunch of my favourite Camellias which he had grown near the fence and gate, I used to call in to see him till he died. Whenever I see Camellias I remember Poppy he was such a kind gentleman my privilege to know.
Mum and dad had been working all this time, mum as a domestic at Loreto College Catholic girls boarding school on Ballarat Lake Wendouree with hot lunch included. On school holidays mum brought me there to her work. I enjoyed being there, one of the nuns took me under her wing and gave me the responsibility of cleaning this very large doll house with about 3 floors and furnished inside, to me this was child heaven as I didn’t have any toys to play with I just adored doing this. This nun knew what this little girl liked another one used take me to where she worked with plants and flowers and gave me one to take home I was thrilled. When the Australian Olympics were on in the 1950’s with the rowing taking place in Ballarat we were invited and had front row seats. They were very kind to us.
Mum & dad rode a push bike to work dad was working at the Ballarat Railways doing the plumbing in the cabins. A couple of times we went to Adelaide by train.
Mum & dad bought this land (huge expense) in Sebastopol, 3 Alfred St. Built 2 rooms, when one room – the kitchen was finished we moved in and slept in shed. There was a copper and bath and outside toilet, I remember I was 7 yrs old because within week of moving we celebrated a little party and made my first communion. I was so excited to be in our own home, one room but we were free to do what we wanted and eat etc.
When we moved to Alfred St. to our own home, many of the neighbours on one side were Polish & for a while it was a very happy place, though many Australian people found very hard to accept us. At school where I went St Joseph’s in the main part of town, the children, they refused to play with me a migrant/displaced child & some of the nuns there found it difficult to accept me. Some of the nuns, in their behaviour were not charitable.
One child I do remember who was very charitable and happy to play with me was called Frances. She wanted others to let me play but got told me, or them, I felt she was better to be with them. I read every book in every class in my growing up years.
The growing up years were not easy as some people very inconsiderate and rude, telling us constantly to speak English especially when we were with our parents on trams & buses, shops or just walking down the street. It was nothing for someone to come up to you and be very rude.
My parents who had to work and found difficulty with language. Mum tried hard but found the meanings of many words difficult. She was able to speak read and write 7 languages but said Australian for her was the hardest to master.
Then there were some people who went out of their way to be kind, I remember one lady Mrs Singleton, who lived in Redan & Mrs Ridsdsale from our catholic church & one darling bald, rotund fairly young priest who was very kind & good with us young children, if something was on for the youth he would pile us kids into his car & drive us home, he was very caring and called in to met our parents. We were all parishioners at this place some went to school there.
We had our own Polish priest his name escapes me) who shepherded his polish flock & celebrated our mass usually Sunday lunch time in St. Pat’s Cathedral, he was a very good man/priest who had to deal and help us over a very difficult times and helped us to have our cultural celebrations.
At home life was difficult, mum changed jobs to pay, for this high mortgage, and she started to work in a shoe factory in Sebastopol. She came home one day absolutely shocked she had been told to slow down as she was putting too much out & the others didn’t like this. To her this was a country of milk and honey and people didn’t want to work hard for it, she was happy to get paid and earn extra money for her output. Dad was working on the roads where they were building a Reservoir towards Melbourne.
To come home from school on the tram then walk 3 blocks home. School finished at 4pm. As a 10 yrs old I had to come home light the fire & start cooking tea, then clear up wash up etc and put away, I was too tired as life at home had lots of stress (there was no trauma counselling ) in those days. The work load at home (some teachers/nuns had no understanding/knowledge or compassion!)
My parents when they come home worked in their veggie garden till dark and later through Spring/summer to autumn the week days were a hard grind.
During school holidays a child I had to go into town and pay bills and do some shopping plus a long list of house chores, washing walls, cleaning windows, scrubbing and polishing floors and cleaning the Venetian blinds (to this day I still hate Venetian blinds.) I loved polishing floors, I would put the radio on and we had an old jumper and I would dance till the floor shone - that was good fun. Helping, doing chores and responsibility made us better people for it.)
Weekends were a little different. Saturday morning shopping etc. with mum and paying bills. That brings memories of the fun times as a Polish community during weekends.
Saturday nights there was dancing in this old hall in Ballarat, as well as some weddings.
Sunday’s there was church, Christenings, any excuse for celebrations particularly on names day. The Polis culture doesn’t celebrate birthdays instead they celebrate the day of the Saint you were named after. There was much merriment and festive gatherings. It was amazing how many people came out with their musical instruments, a violin, the banjo, button accordion and I remember one trumpet type instrument. Lots of singing, laughter & merriment.
Dad always with his piano accordion and mouth organ as well as a very good deep, baritone voice. He loved to dance all at the same time, not to mention his love of beer. Though the traditional drink was vodka many people enjoyed brandy. Their own garden produce was brought out, all the tables were groaning there was so much food, all cooked beautifully by the host or many women folk - Golomki, pierogi, different sausages, sauerkraut many made their own we did. We pickled cucumbers, beetroot, mushrooms, herrings, potatoes – all this food was enjoyed by all, (what memories)
Sadly there were deaths with dear loved ones in the early days some died very young as war had taken its toll on some early.
Easter celebrations were another very special time.
Good Friday being good Catholics meant no meat but much preparation for Easter Sunday - boiling and colouring eggs using onion skins, beetroot, and having some children decorating eggs, we also used candle wax, this was my job, what fun.- great work of art. Mum would cook a special cake and pork bacon piece plus coloured eggs, in a bowl with on a plate the bacon piece (1/2 to a 1 lb maybe more depending size of family etc. butter in container with its cross and a salt and pepper container with a cross. a large platter or tray with a special cloth decorated placed on it.
On Easter Saturday, people would bring their platter to one of the neighbourhood houses or to our place (each year it would be a different house). We would place the decorated platter on the dining room table and the catholic Polish Priest would come over to bless it. With us children our eyes were wide with wonderment, we still could not touch this food until Easter Sunday morning after Mass, (I was not overly fond of boiled eggs except these the blessed eggs they always tasted special for me on Easter Sunday morning).
From time to time our Polish and Australian cultures clashed especially during our teenage years.
My story of growing up here in Australia was mixed with sad times and very happy times. I ended up in Queensland, married to a truly wonderful Aussie man called Rodney (British/Scottish ancestry freely come to this country). With our 2 great sons Christopher & Peter (sadly no grandchildren as I write). I have lost both my parents now.
In late 1976 my Husband Rod and I (after my dad passed away) travelled/worked the circumference of Australia for approximately 2 years with our young two sons Christopher and Peter in tow. An incredible experience and what a vast, great country that has adopted me and I it.
I have included photos snaps from the early days of my story/ journey, mixed, varied with parents, friends, our culture, at the beginning not accepted by Australians, but now very much accepted & totally my country, my land.
I have been living in Qld now approximately 42 years; I am 62 years young I have wonderful friends from many varied cultures.
One of the most important part of my story, I drew strength through difficult times, sad and traumatic times as well through the good times, has been my faith my belief in God. I do thank God our Father for bringing me to a country my mum called milk & honey, a place that is truly free, where we are free to be what we want or desire to be, a country where I can/am able to freely practice my faith/belief in Christ Jesus, to walk /go freely anywhere in this country.
I have travelled overseas to some wonderful places but it is always wonderful to come home. Australia is my country, my home and very special and unique in this world. I thank God daily for the blessings He bestowed upon me and my family.
I now live on acreage with rainforest and wild life that visit us. The richness of bird-life as well we own dams with spring water, wonderful climate & very hard working/caring husband, even though we are retired our days are so full and we are free to choose our lifestyle.
Finally the contrast of the beginning to now.
28th November 2007
