I am grateful to God and to Australia

In Germany, in summer 1947, I was born to two wonderful people, who had just lived through a terrible war. They were fortunate in that they had not spent the wartime in a concentration camp, but in labour camps. I was two years old when we left Germany by train to Italy, and from Naples we set sail for Australia on the ‘General ML Hersey’. I do not remember anything of Germany or the trip across the seas. My earliest memory is of life at Maribyrnong Hostel, from where my mother and father were going to work and leaving me in the care of kindly neighbours. I had a doll, which our neighbours’ daughter and I loved dearly. Consequently, there were fights over her, and during one of these fights my precious doll was torn apart; and although my father mended her, she just was not the same with one of her legs made from a roll of old newspaper. Another memory I have of the hostel is the Nissan huts we lived in, and the iron beds in which we slept.

Having been very naughty on one occasion, my father was furious with me and very intent on spanking me. He told me to lie on the bed on my stomach. As I saw his hand getting closer and closer to my bottom, I rolled over, and his hand connected with the edge of the iron bed. Instead of being terrified, I started to laugh and in a split second, my father's anger was replaced by pain, followed by a stronger anger and then by a smile, as he took me in his arms and hugged me.

When we moved to Ardeer, we lived in Yallourn Street, in a house that my mother and father built themselves, room by room. We moved in when the first room was completed. There were no streets, only gravel tracks with smelly open gutters on either side. Apart from six completed concrete rendered houses in Maxweld Street, the whole area was littered with one and two room dwellings and bungalows. For clean water, we had to go to the pump in the next street, and bring it home in buckets. How many times I slipped and lost the contents, and had to return to refill my buckets! At first there was no electricity, and our cooking was done on a primus stove.

Living conditions were primitive compared to today, and many hardships were endured. But everyone was happy. Everyone felt lucky to be free, to live in Australia, to have their homes, such as they were, to have the friendship and camaraderie that surrounded us. All of us children grew up as one big happy family, playing and fighting together. Our parents were all great friends. Our houses were all built together. When one family's house needed a frame put up, or a floor put in, the men would leave work on their own homes and help at that house. Our homes were built in a wonderful spirit of love and co-operation. And every Saturday night the families would take turns and put on parties that everyone attended. There was eating and drinking, singing and dancing till the small hours of the morning.

On Sunday, everyone would go to Mass at the Mother of God Church, which at first was a huge circus tent. Then a Nissan hut was bought and that was our place of worship for several years. Eventually the present church was built amid great rejoicing.

My family was amongst the first in Ardeer to own a black and white television set, and our lounge room would become a small theatre on Friday and Saturday nights, with up to thirty people enjoying the programs on offer at the time. It was my job to clean up the mess after everyone had left.

We all attended the Mother of God Primary School together and the event of the year was the Annual School Ball, at the end of each year. All the classes would participate. Each grade was taught a different dance, and when the great day came, we would go home at lunchtime to rest for the evening's festivities. Then we would return, the girls dressed in beautiful long gowns, the boys in suits, all excited and nervously awaiting our turn to dance. Our parents were sitting around the hall, proudly watching their children put on a dazzling performance.

I was in grade 8 at Marian Girls’ College when my youngest brother went to school, and my mother returned to work. It was my duty to see that my brothers got off to school on time, and to look after them when they came home after school. My mother often worked sixteen hours a day, so it fell to me to get dinner for my father and brothers, and to do other household chores such as cleaning the house and doing the washing. Feeling that I was being unfairly treated, I became somewhat of a tyrant towards my brothers, sometimes using physical force to make them help me.

On Saturday mornings, I used to attend Polish school. At first I did not mind, but as I grew older I resented having to go to Polish school where we would have lessons on the history and geography of Poland, as well as the Polish language. We also had lessons on Polish culture - folk dancing, singing and drama. I used to like these lessons but I rebelled and said I did not want to go to the Polish school anymore and my father threatened me with his belt. I kept going to the Polish school for seven years, and to this day, I am and always will be grateful to my father for forcing me to learn Polish. Now as an adult, I am very proud to be able to say that I speak, read and write in Polish, not perfectly, but fairly fluently. Growing up in Ardeer, I saw the Ardeer Soccer Club formed, of which both my brothers were members. I saw the Polish Hall being built, but never dreamed that I would one day be an active committee member of the Sunshine Polish Charity Association. I remember the men coming home from work and going straight to the Hall, and spending all day Saturday and Sunday after Mass there. I remember my mother being cross that my father always had time to work at the Hall but never had time to do anything at home.

When I was twenty-one I left home to go to America for my cousin's wedding. My planned six months' stay turned into two and a half years, during which time I travelled to Poland, France and England. On my first trip, I fell in love with my parents' homeland and I was much exited to meet all my relatives. In France I visited my godmother, who had married a Frenchman in Germany after the war. I had been corresponding in French with her son, who picked me up from Orly Airport, and took me to his mother's home in the country. I joyously greeted her in Polish, and was shocked to learn that she had totally forgotten her mother tongue. For the rest of my stay with her I communicated in French. In England I ran out of money, and resigned myself to the fact that I would have to spend Christmas on my own, without family. Very depressed, I wrote to my parents to tell them my sad news. My wonderful parents, not wanting me to spend Christmas on my own in a strange land, sent me enough money to return to America, to the bosom of my mother's sister's family. I spent another twelve months in the States, and finally returned to Australia in December 1970. I married in 1972, and by 1980, had three children.

I really had no interest in the Sunshine Polish Charity Association until my eldest child went to school. Of course, I wanted her to learn Polish, as I had, so I sent her to Saturday Polish School in Ardeer. Because the Polish school was a part of the Polish Association I became a member, much to my father's delight. Each of my children has attended Polish school.

In 1985 ‘Wesołe Nutki’ - a Polish children's vocal-dance group was formed, and I signed up my children. Very soon I found myself very actively involved in the administration side of the group; an activity I enjoyed immensely.

Sometimes I felt that ‘Wesołe Nutki’ was my lifeline. The pleasure I received from my active participation is immeasurable. I loved the children and young adults in the group, and my circle of friends has widened greatly.

I am eternally grateful to my parents, to God and to Australia, for giving me the only home I know, for enabling me to grow into a responsible, caring adult, for the opportunity to raise my children in this great country, in both the Australian culture, and in the culture of my parents' motherland - Poland.