12 R E C O L L E C T I O N S
Family Histories
KWIATKOWSKI Family
6/ Iran and Malaria
The sun was red and low in the sky when a boat at last arrived and the quayside gates opened for loading. It was a small fishing vessel that stank of fish and diesel. Much too small for the soldiers and civilians waiting to board. Mum, carrying me, squeezed and pushed along the gangplank. Once aboard we were forced below decks, I began to choke, unable to breathe in that temperature and lack of air. Mum, still carrying me, managed to return to the deck. Jadwiga and Tadeusz also. It was standing room only here, we were like fish in a very hot barrel. The red sun was just above the horizon when the engine began to throb and the ship, slowly, got under way. It was still very hot, only made bearable by the breeze created by the ship's movement. I don't remember any of the crossing, I must have fallen asleep very soon afterwards.
I woke up laying on a blanket, under a rudimentary roof of a shelter which consisted of several poles and a large tarpaulin. On my left, Mum sat with Jadwiga and Tadeusz eating something that smelt delicious. Soon I was also tucking into a slice of fresh bread and runny corn beef, followed by a long drink of cool water. The shelter was one of many in a line between sand dunes and the sea which was about 150 metres away. There were a few buildings between us and the sea, it was warm, gently warm compared with the port where we boarded the ship. We were in the Persian, (now Iranian) port of Pahlevi, (now Bandar-e-Anzali) and now, free of the USSR, I could feel a comfortable security in unquestioned living conditions.
We lived there for a few weeks. The Polish authorities gave each family a small sum of local currency so apart from tinned meat and bread Mum was able to buy occasional hard boiled eggs which the Iranians sold in great numbers. They were small but tasty. Once or twice she bought sun dried melon strips and a few grapes. For us children it was a relaxing time. The sea was shallow, quiet and fun to splash in. Tadeusz used to take me there every day. Sometimes a squad of soldiers marched by, something to stare at and admire.
It was on one such occasion, late afternoon, that Mum standing with us, suddenly yelled "Janek" and ran towards a soldier in the last four of the squad. They hugged and talked excitedly for a few minutes before he ran back after his squad. He was Janek Kuriata, a young son of Mum's parents neighbours in Bronisławka. He didn't have any news of Dad but seeing him gave hope of seeing Dad again. Once again time came to move on. Open trucks were our next transport to wherever we were to go next. The trucks carried us away from Pahlevi one early morning. Very soon the road entered mountains where for hours it snaked along high above valleys on the left and steep slopes on the right. Several times we saw wrecked vehicles in the valleys, completely wrecked. It was quite scary at times when we passed traffic in the opposite direction.
Early afternoon we stopped. Here there was a small plateau, few buildings and a gushing spring of water flowing across the road. The Russian driver of our truck took me from Mum's arms, carried me to the spring and washed my face in the cold water. It felt wonderful. He went off quickly to return with an enormous bunch of grapes that we all shared. The sweetest grapes of my life. Soon we were travelling again, the road was dusty so, most of the time we huddled in the shelter of the cab as the sides of the truck were low, the top open. It was early evening before we came out of the mountains and saw the twinkling lights of Qazvin far below us; the stop for the night. I can't remember the last stage to Tehran at all. Next day saw us in low wooden barracks, visiting a communal bath with unlimited warm water, our old clothes burnt and replaced with clothes donated by the Red Cross.
In Tehran, we lived in a number of low barracks outside the city. To one side there was a deep well which supplied, for me, delicious drinking water. Food was supplied by the Army. Not plentiful but just enough not to overload stomachs which had starved for three years. Ours was an end barrack, next to a low wall. Beyond stretched grey, stony, dusty plain covered with sparse bushes. Here we lived two or three weeks before being taken by lorries to the railway station. Boarding the train we waited for the next stage of our journey and waited not knowing our final destination. The train did not move and after about two hours, we returned to the barracks.
Several days later, we were back at the station and this time off to Ahvaz. It was a slow train along the line which wound itself between hills and frequent tunnels. It was in one of these tunnels, about midday, that the train stopped. Soon our carriage filled with fumes from the engine, breathing became unpleasantly difficult. It was quite a while before another engine arrived and we continued our journey. Once again I do not remember arriving in Ahvaz.
It was morning when I woke up, laying wrapped in a blanket on the floor of a large room. There were about forty of us there. The room had a very high ceiling and was open on one side, it was sunny but with a pleasant breeze keeping the temperature low. This room was our "home" for the next few weeks. The building was part of Iranian Army barracks; cavalry as we soon found out.
Unfortunately, Mum fell ill with malaria after a week or so and was taken to hospital. Jadwiga took charge. Days later one of my eyes became infected. Bathing it did not help and on a hot afternoon we set off for the clinic in town. We knew a clinic existed but not precisely where. The road from the barracks into Ahvaz was very straight and led uphill without a scrap of shade anywhere. It took a long while to reach the clinic. Here we waited in the corridor, and waited, and waited. Eventually we realised the clinic had closed without seeing us, so we went back. At least it wasn't so hot now, and downhill.
After a few days the swelling over my eye went down, there was no more talk of returning to the clinic. I felt a lot happier, especially as we were allowed to visit Mum in hospital. After a week she returned and took charge. She was very weak and moved slowly. It was less than a week before we were packing again and heading for the train in the coolness of the evening. This time our journey only took a few hours before we left the train and walked towards a waiting ship. A short walk brought us to the gangplank in the shadow of a very early morning without sunshine. It was a steep gangplank, too steep for me, too steep for Mum carrying me and a bundle of our few possessions. A nearby soldier carried me aboard while helping Mum at the same time.