The Changing World

When we

January 27 - 1945

Frigid air stings my face as the wintery gusts attack, ripping at our threadbare clothing, daring us to fight back. Tucking my face into my holey scarf provides slight relief, I mutter, "only 500 metres to go".

We combat the icy winds and treacherous snow and our starved huddle of weakened bodies gradually limps to the haven of the train, "250". Too much time was lost to this nightmarish hellhole.

"100" Weakened by hard labour and food scraps, cramped beds, we barely smile at our saviours, the Soviets. "50 metres to the fence." Khaki and scarlet giants usher us towards safety like a shepherd herding sheep.

Freedom at last, I just want to go home.

Are no longer

September 1 - 1939

The fragrant, sweet perfumes of the stalls brimming with flowers and fruit should penetrate the fog of spicy cigar smoke wafting through the bustling market. Fresh aromas usually accompany bursts of colour lining Warsaw's Market Street. But the usual hubbub of crowds and haggle of customers is missing. A gentle breeze blows a sheet of newspaper across the empty square. I trap it with my foot as I glance at today's headline. My heart stops, 'German Army advances on the Polish Border.'

Stagnant air consumes my lungs while my stomach does somersaults in its attempts to empty. Swallowing nausea, I realise that the rumours are true. Stories of fear, injustice, of war. A vicious man named Hitler. The Nazi's are taking Poland. There is no way out.

Able to change

February 5 - 1945

Destruction was complete. For miles, buildings once tall and mighty now reduced to smouldering rubble. The once lively city endured before becoming a barren ghost town. Wandering the demolished markets, blackened flowers and fruit festoon the ruined market. A sheet of paper tumbles towards me. An old poster, 'Join the Cause. Free Warsaw. The last hurrah for us all!'.

Oh, how things have changed.

My home, our home, all...gone.

Rounding the corner I spy a structure, still standing tall and solid. The untouched old town hall facade kindles a sliver of hope. Scrambling over piles of detritus I see that yes, we can do it.

We can rebuild, together.

We just have to be brave.

A situation

May 3 - 1939

Polish National Day, nine am, and the day is already filled with parties and fun. Today is something to truly celebrate The town hall has again turned into a jazz club. The beautiful stone facade replete with romantic paintings and golden tipped carvings always inspires. Despite its stoicism, upbeat jazz enlivens in cellars. No parties are bigger than our national day of fun. Crowds flood the streets sporting flags, food and smiles of national pride.

We are challenged

June 18 - 1945

Our army of toy soldiers was useless, as hopeless as the ragtag assemblage of half-starved paupers attempting to rebuild an entire city. However, we have unbroken Polish hearts and souls. Our aspirations of glorious rebuilt Warsaw see the hopelessly lost citizens return. The streets are cleaner. The rubble removed. The dead buried.

The thick stench of rot and decay slowly dissipates as we tidy and build. Our sweat and tears reconstitute the desiccated city as we work in the sweltering sun. This is our chance, our sliver of hope, our attempts to reverse the vicissitudes from Nazi horror. We can do this. It's hard as Soviet control is increasing, constricting, monitoring, restricting us and our beliefs with curfews, practices and strict laws. Are we trapped again?

To change ourselves.

August 23 - 1994

My granddaughter's hand grips tight in our dash across Grodzka St in search for Warsaw's best ice cream. The collapse of the Iron Curtain left Poland with glimpses of peace and freedom after years of repression. Despite the hardships, we persevered. My reverie is shattered by a loud yell. Ahead, the old town hall sports the ice cream stand with her favourites. The original facade still stands strong. Its highest arch proudly proclaims, Our Sliver of Hope.

Viktor Frankl

Warsaw has changed. No longer do Soviets roam the streets. No longer are we trapped in our homes by our 'liberators'. No longer are we the unlikely survivors. We who rebuilt a city, from ruins to glory.

Warsaw has changed, but for the better. We now know the mistakes of our predecessors, the causes of destruction. Adapting to the changed world, a better world, we challenged ourselves to create the best new life we could.