THE GRZYBOWSKI FAMILY
CZESŁAWA RACHEL-GRZYBOWSKA
viii. KIDUGALA, AFRICA
After a short stay in Karachi, we sailed by British ship to Africa where we stayed for a period of six years. Transports with Poles landed mainly in Mombasa in Kenya and in Dar-es-Salaam and Tanga in Tanganyika (now Tanzania). Refugees were placed in settlements scattered throughout eastern Africa: in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia), Kenya, Uganda, Tanganyika. Even South Africa welcomed around 500 orphans. Some estates were situated in very picturesque neighbourhoods. For example, Masindi (about 4,000 people) was hidden in the jungles of Uganda. Koja (about 3,000 people) was located on the shores of Lake Victoria. The largest, Tengeru (about 5000 people) - at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro. Kidugala and Ifunda (about 1,000 people each) were amid hills and lush vegetation, and Abercorn on the shores of Lake Tanganyika.
They had one thing in common - malaria prevailed everywhere. In total 22 refugee camps were built in Africa. Three transitional camps were closed within a short time. Nineteen remained for a longer period.
In 1943, older girls and boys born before 1928, as well as a few younger ones, had the chance to leave. Girls went to England for aviation training and boys to military schools in Palestine and Egypt. That’s when we parted with our oldest sister Stenia. In England, she married pilot Brunon Mondzielewski and in 1947 she returned with her husband to Poland. There was great joy and many tears when she visited us in England in 1960. We hadn't seen each other for 17 years.
The refugee camps were mostly full of women and children. There were very few men - those unsuitable for the army or as specialists were sent to perform specific functions e.g. doctors.
Due to the high percentage of children and adolescents there was a need to organise schools immediately because apart from families, there were also orphanages, large ones in Tengeru and Masindi. The beginnings were difficult. Teaching staff were not always qualified, school premises and teaching aids were initially non-existent, but young people were full of enthusiasm, eager to learn, wanting to make up for lost years. A total of 47 schools were established, including 19 primary schools, seven general secondary schools, ten vocational secondary schools and eleven kindergartens. Mothers and schools played a very important role together with the church, scouts and guides to develop young characters with the motto of ‘Love of God, Honour and the Homeland’.
The refugee camps also ran their own enterprises. Farms, shops, butchers, bakeries and various workshops were established, which kept willing people busy with work. Churches and clubhouses were built. Libraries were organised, schools and hospitals expanded. Gardens full of flowers were planted around the houses. The refugee camps were decorated in various ways - often beautiful and original.
After this short, general outline, I want to say something about Kidugala.
I was very young - I had just had my tenth birthday after we arrived and we stayed in Kudugala for over five years.
Kidugala, near the town of Njombe in Tanganyika, East Africa, was a medium-sized refugee camp. The number of people fluctuated around 1,000 plus young people attending schools from elsewhere. It was located quite high above sea level, so it had a fairly good climate for Africa. Before the First World War, there was a German Protestant mission on this site. They left behind a fine brick church, some office buildings, a hospital and a partly-built school. In addition, a garden called Paradise, where vegetables and fruit were grown. It was situated in a picturesque valley with gentle slopes down to a river on both sides of which were rows of semi-detached dwellings. The river must have been quite large and fast, because a power plant was built next to it. It was the only refugee camp that had electricity. However, the supply was restricted to vital services. Houses were lit with kerosene lanterns. A water supply was also installed. The refugee camp was divided into sections each of which were served with 2 taps from which to draw water. Until then, the local population collected water from large vessels standing alongside their dwellings. Other constructions were a bathhouse with showers and even a factory making bricks. Bricks began to be used to extend existing accommodation and to build new homes. The dwelling allocated to us probably had a structure made of wood but built of clay by natives under British supervision. They were thatched - most likely with giant miscanthus. Instead of a window there was an opening with a shutter. A mosquito net was strung above each bed, but it did not protect against mosquitoes and almost everyone had malaria. After some time, two dwellings were built in our section No. 4 - semi-detached but now made of brick. Mum was responsible for the section, so one was allocated to us. We were very pleased because the hut was more spacious; it had a glass window and a porch. In front of the house there was a huge tree. On a clear evening, which was most of the time, a small group of friends would gather. Dyżek played the accordion and we sang joyously (my voice had changed to soprano!).
We imagined Africa as wild, full of dangerous animals and reptiles. In practice, it turned out that it wasn't that bad. However, we were instructed not to leave the refugee camps for safety. Young people, especially boys, did not take such warnings to heart, and one of them wrote to his father, who was worried about his family: “We went with Janek to find dangerous animals that were much talked about. We didn't see any animals, but we met the manager of the refugee camp and he was really scary”.
To get to know all the beauty and exoticism of this continent, you have to travel. Older teenagers had a chance to go on organised safaris a few times, but not the younger ones. I turned ten in Kidugala. I was one of the younger ones, and this kind of pleasure passed me by. However, I did see a lion up close, only it was dead. One day the news spread that a lion had killed three native girls in the vicinity of the refugee camp. It turns out that in old age, when the lion becomes weak and cannot hunt game, man is the easiest prey. He becomes a man-eater. The refugee camp manager - an avid hunter - was already gathering a team to go hunting, when one day we heard an unbelievable tumult. We saw an amazing sight. A crowd of strangely dressed natives dancing, singing, screaming, beating drums, carrying the slain lion. They happily paraded their booty. A witch doctor wearing amulets led the procession, proud that his spells gave victory to the warriors.
On another occasion, a boa snake, a few metres long, was brought to the estate - the constrictor had swallowed a deer and was easy prey.
An interesting fact was the march of the ants. They were quite large, brown insects. The march went on for kilometres, because there were millions of them and nothing could stop them. They could even make a bridge across the river. They marched in perfect order and undisturbed disappeared somewhere into the bush. It was better not to interrupt the march, even if the chosen route led through the middle of someone's living quarters, because then they would become dangerous and aggressive. You had to wait patiently for them to leave.
There were tiny worms that worked their way into your feet, especially under the nails. There they laid eggs, creating tiny bags that had to be gently removed with a needle. Otherwise, there was trouble followed by surgery in the hospital.
Once a year we had a wonderful sight when insects swarmed (they were said to be locusts) similar to butterflies but with fabulously coloured wings.
Mosquitoes were a plague as they spread malaria. We were told to take quinine and atabrine (which made you turn yellow like a lemon). Still, almost everyone got sick - some more often, some less. My older sister was fragile by nature, she collapsed very often. Once both my sisters were hospitalised at the same time. One had the so-called blackwater malaria and the other cerebral malaria.
Our life actually ran quite normally with the usual joys and cares. Mum worked, cared for us and worried about my brother, with whom there was no contact from Russia. Everyone was greatly relieved when we heard that he was alive and well at the school in Palestine. We attended school but were also given responsibilities. Some of them were difficult to carry out, for example, you had to go to the common room, listen to the evening news and write a report. For 11 to 13-year-olds, it was an overwhelming expectation for their age, especially since the radio was not the best, reception was poor and interference affected the sound. I don't remember how it ended but most likely the idea was dropped. I perfectly remember when in 1943 the news reached the refugee camps that General Władysław Sikorski had died in an airplane accident. He had played a major role in freeing us from the Soviet Union. There was despair and endless tears.
Months, even years, passed. War blazed in Europe but we lived in peace. Transports with books and school supplies began to arrive. To my great joy, quite an impressive library was created, which I immediately started to use. So we were well provided with school, first cub scouts, then senior scouting and dances in the common room with gramophone records.
In general, cultural life developed quite rapidly. Evening events, theatre and ad hoc performances, patriotic variety shows were organised. Sports teams and a folk dance ensemble were established. I belonged to 2 choirs - the church choir, because we liked Fr. Maciaszek, and the school choir. I was less keen on the second because the older students dominated. I didn’t feel comfortable with them, and besides, you had to go to rehearsals, and I preferred to play rounders with the boys. However, the teacher ordered me to attend, and there was no arguing with the teacher.
At the age of 12, I passed on to middle school. I was sad because my friends - Lilka and Krysia - had to go to the tailoring school. I quickly made friends with Zosia - the younger sister of Dyźek, who sang and played the accordion. He returned to Poland after the war and became a priest. I found out that he was a chaplain at the hospital in Jaworzno. Being on vacation in the area in 1970, I decided to visit him and I was shocked. He was only 3 years older than me and looked like an old man. What had happened to this cheerful, nice, singing boy?! I was very disappointed and sad because he remembered almost nothing from Africa. Overall the visit was not particularly successful.
In our spare time we kept busy with needlework. My older sister Hela could not study due to constant illnesses, but she was very artistically talented. She painted beautifully, so on the occasion of the name day of important people, she was asked for greeting cards. Someone even provided her with a set of paints. She had beautiful handwriting, and since everything was handwritten, she was readily hired in the office. She also applied her artistry to needlework. She drew beautiful patterns and transferred them to material. Unfortunately, I was not that good, but I learned to cross-stitch, so napkins, tapestries, pillows and even rugs were made by us at home.
Danusia was five years younger than me, she was still small and I really don't remember what she did. There weren't any toys, but I doubt she was bored. There were three little friends - Danusia, Wandzia and Zosia. Wandzia - two years older - started school. Danusia insisted that she also wanted to go to school. The teacher - Mrs. Rudzka - being very tolerant, accepted her. Everything was going well and Danusia only had difficulty with writing the number eight. She said she just could not draw this "bow".
Each camp solved the issue of food in its own way. In Kidugala, dinners were prepared by ladies in communal kitchens. There were two in our section. What they cooked, I do not remember. However, I recall that you had to tightly cover the vessel in which the dinner was carried home, because the vultures, which came out of nowhere lurked about ready to grab meat from the plate. Breakfast and dinner were made at home. Thanks to my mother's forethought, there was always enough food.
Contacts with the local population were not encouraged by the British. Those employed in the camps were tolerated but in general, natives were not allowed to stay overnight. Probably those (especially boys) who, despite warnings, wandered deeper into the bush, had more contact with them. I only saw a large number when they brought the dead lion, and when the bush was burning and the fire approached the camp. They were probably ordered to gather and smother the fire with branches. After extinguishing the fire, they lined up in columns and left singing. Sometimes we bought something from them, like local bananas, apricots or blueberries, which mother used to make delicious jam. You had to pay with small change (I think it was in pennies), because the coins had a hole in the middle. They could be threaded on a string or a thong and worn around the neck. Whoever had a longer necklace was richer and more important.
Finally, May 1945 arrived and the longed-for end of the war in Europe. Some of the refugees, although small in number, decided to return to Poland for various reasons, and in 1947 the first transports to England started. It was decided to liquidate the shrinking camps. Kidugala was transferred to Ifunda. My mother remained until the liquidation of the camp and after about 6 months we left for Tengeru.
We left Kidugala in a sad mood. We spent over five years here - if not in luxury, then certainly in good conditions. In addition, we had to leave the dog, which we inherited from friends who had left earlier, whom we liked very much and he liked us. An Italian priest from the Catholic mission was supposed to pick him up, but he was late. On our way out, we locked the dog in the house, but when he heard the truck move, he jumped out, breaking the window, and started running after us. I don't remember how long the chase lasted, but I know long enough for me to have a swollen face from crying. Finally, he ran out of strength and stopped. On return, he lay down in front of our door. He refused to drink or eat, tears flowed from his eyes. The neighbour was so pleased when the priest finally arrived and took him away.
After the dog was gone and my tears had dried, I noticed that we had left the bush behind. We had driven into a savannah. An endless plain covered with grass, sparsely scattered large trees, bushes and finally animals - majestic giraffes but mostly smaller game. We saw neither elephants nor lions.
On the way, we stopped at a place where we saw a group of strange-looking people. Physically similar to black people, but they had white hair, pinkish-white skin and red eyes. They were albinos who suffer from a complete lack of pigment in the body. I think it's not easy for them to live in an area where dark skin colour is so important.