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I was born and raised in Communist Poland. In 1985, age
25, I left Poland for a life in the free world. After
crossing the
Alps on foot, I found myself in an
Austrian
refugee camp sharing close quarters with other escapees for
six months. I eventually received American asylum through
First Lutheran Church in
Clarion, Iowa and arrived in
America ready to begin a new life. My beginning was
difficult, as I started out with no family, no friends, no
money, no job, no useful education or profession, and no
knowledge of the English language. Everything in American
culture and customs was unfamiliar to me.
I started with nothing, and today, thanks to the opportunity
and good people in this great nation, I am an educated man,
the owner of two companies, and an award-winning author.
Both books are now available at the
Barnes & Noble online store (and
from this site), for which I feel very
lucky. But most of all, I am a very proud father and an
excited
American citizen. Through my current works and those
to come in the future, I want to do all I can to make our
country stronger, better, and more united. |
Q: What was life under Communism like?
A:
During my childhood, I didn’t
understand the
Cold War politics or dynamics. All I knew was that,
with my five older siblings out of the house, I helped my mother
deal with an alcoholic father and brother. From age 10 until I left
Poland at 25, I lived constantly fearing the harm of one of them
could cause after coming home drunk and furious. In addition,
Poland’s failing political system at the end of the 1970s and early
1980s was making it increasingly unbearable to live. During those
years, half of the population joined the workers’ union,
Solidarity.
We did all we could to bring the oppressive government down. Martial
Law went into effect on December 13, 1981. Within hours, tanks
rolled into our neighborhoods.
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
Typical images after Martial Law was
declared on 12/13/1981
My parents and six of us children lived in an old, 16 x 24-foot
house built around WWI. It had a potato basement and a small attic.
My mother lives there still, now sharing the home with one of my
sisters, her husband, and their three children. Every morning my
mom, age 82, treks to the barn, splits wood, brings it home and
starts a fire in her old stove in order to have hot water for her
morning tee, as well as for washing her hands and face.
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
My
Mother's stove
Q: What prompted my decision to escape?
A:
In 1981, after attending a two-year college, I, and thousands of
others, participated in anti-communist government strikes. For that,
I was arrested and beaten. Those were tough times when stores were
empty, food was
rationed, when men disappeared at night and were never seen again.
Everyone began to lose hope. I lost it, too. My pay was a joke, a
mere 50 cents per day while new jeans cost $20! I never had new
jeans until I came to America. Below is a photo of me standing in
front of TARGET showing off my proud purchases-two new jean jackets.
The new jeans were already on! I couldn’t wait and put them on
inside the store.
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
Shopping in Omaha, NE, 1986
In Poland, I shared a tiny room with another guy. There were only
two beds and a closet-no stove, no refrigerator, no TV, nothing.
Like a jail cell. Six guys rented three rooms like that in
somebody’s basement, thus sharing a tiny bathroom with only a sink
and a toilet. Cold water only. Showers had to be scheduled one week
in advance with the landlord upstairs. At that time, my family was
on the government’s black list for our anti-communist actions and
beliefs.
My father, who desired to be a catholic priest when he was a young
man (which helped him survive those woeful times), started as a city
vice-mayor right after WWII, but was demoted to a night watchman
over 30 years of his professional career. All because he refused
to join the party. It was the worst job possible. He was a devoted
catholic. We all know the story of Jesus when he spent 40 days in
the wilderness... Well, when my father was 65 years old, he left
home for work one morning and never returned. His body was found
soaking in the river… 40 days later. To this day we don’t know the
cause of his death; however, I’ve come to realize that the
government, the lack of freedom, and the stripping of his dignity
made him die a little bit every day.
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
The river where my Father's body was
soaking for 40 days
At age 23, I remember standing with my friends in a bus shelter when
suddenly we were surrounded and beaten by communist police. Just
like that - for doing nothing. The following day I looked at the
blood stains on the bus stop walls and my mind said, “WAKE UP, Chez!
They are beating hope out of you! ESCAPE THIS COMMUNIST, OPPRESSIVE
NATION or you will waste your life!”
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
Photo of the bus stop where the
beating took place in 1983
That was the moment when I decided to escape my homeland.
Q: What was the hardest thing to do before I left?
A: Saying goodbye to everything and everyone I grew up with was
incredibly painful, but saying goodbye to my mother (especially as
the baby of the family) was heartbreaking. This is how it went...
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
My Mother, Halina, peeling potatoes.
Q: How did I escape?
A: I went to see the
Holy Father - John Paul II in
Vatican.
In Italy, the first free nation we entered, I separated from the
group and used buses and trains to travel as far as I could near the
border between Italy and Austria.
I remember sitting at the train station looking at the Alps ahead of
me and thinking, "Can I do this? Will I make it? Do I have enough
strength and will do enter these mountains and come out on the other
side in one piece? Am I brave enough to cross the biggest border of
my life?”
Then, I ate my last can of tuna and last slice of bread, and I hit
the road!
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
My first
view of Austria after crossing the Alps
Q: What was the refugee camp like?
A: After being processed, providing information for
background checks and receiving proper medical approval, we were
housed in rooms with 10 or more roommates. Officially, we were not
allowed to work outside the camp, but in reality most of us did. At
about $1.50 per hour, the pay was low. And the shifts, at 12 hours
each for six or seven days per week, were long. Heartless treatment
almost made the work unbearable – almost. Nevertheless, we accepted
any job we were offered, from local farmers to construction
companies. We needed money, and we needed to stay busy to stay sane.
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
The refugee camp in Traiskirchen,
Austria
Q: What was my arrival in the U.S. and Iowa like?
A:
The greatest obstacle was my lack of language skills. I came to
America not knowing the English at all. Nobody in Clarion spoke
Polish, so the communication was rough at first. I continue to feel
like I am catching up with everything around me, that NOW I am where
I could have been at 25 had I been born in the
United States. I can
finally speak the language, communicate, and support my family. It
took years of learning, adjusting, and planning, along with the help
from so many good people in Iowa, Minnesota, and now from around the
country and world. I am very thankful to all of them! I have so many
hopes and dreams.
Fragment of a poem from MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM...
Visiting First Lutheran Church in Clarion, IA in 2009
Q: Would I do it again?
A:
At first, my answer was a quick, “Of course!” Now, with passing time
and the realization of how important family is, I’m not so sure.
Still, life is too short to live in one place, and spending it in
the USA versus a small town in Poland under Communism then seemed a
much better alternative. I am now able to help my family back home
and show my children the world, thus allowing them to grow as global
citizens with a wide understanding of issues. Also, if I hadn’t come
here, I wouldn’t have my children. I can’t imagine my life without
them.
I would do it differently, but I would do it again.
Also, let this poem answer the question... (also from
MY ESCAPE TO FREEDOM) |
|
I’D DO IT ALL AGAIN
It’s been more than twenty years since I came to America.
More than two decades of a life so different from what I had.
A life of new faces,
New voices,
New passions,
New challenges,
New aspirations.
There were years when I fell in love
With new toys,
New heroes,
New lessons,
New religions,
New possibilities.
There were years of building
New houses,
New homes,
New yards,
New neighborhoods,
New visions.
But the years that matter most
Are those still ahead.
Years of growth,
Of giving back,
Of simplification,
Of my children living in peace,
Of all children living in peace.
And for those years I’d do it all again.
|
Monika, Ania, and Chez - 2009 (photo by Sandy Ryan) |
