Elżbieta Wrzosek

"It was 1945. The Polish school in Baranowicze was opened. We lived ten kilometers away in Stołowicze but I attended school in Baranowicze. I remember the 1st of May and I remember everybody speaking Polish. There were some old Polish teachers: Mrs. Chmielewska, Mrs. Zaręba, Mr. Dąbrowski. I can’t remember all of the names... There was a lady who we laughed at a lot – we called her silly Katiusza – she used to teach us Russian language. The headmaster Mr. Gutto taught History. The rest of the teachers we had were good and old Polish teachers. On the 1st of May we were told to meet and glorify the Bolsheviks. Nobody went. On the 3rd of May all of the teachers and the school children organised a huge manifestation. We brought the Polish flags and that kind of stuff… The local government closed the school on the 10th of May and we were banned signing up to any other school. That’s how it was. My family and I were from Stołowicze and we had to leave the village because of me. We moved to Mołczadzi with my aunt Zosia. Finally, I managed to complete the school unofficially, here".

"I really learned my lesson. I had to work as a teacher in a camp. The Soviets called me, they frightened me at the beginning but after that they asked politely. They told me I could be very helpful teaching the prisoners in the camp school. They said “ For sure very few student will come. They will come just to look at you” ( people used to say I was quite pretty). “They will stay with you for a day at school so they will stop wandering around and committing stupid crimes around the camp”. People were ready to kill themselves, they were drinking and doing terrifying things in the camp so the Soviets forced me to work here. I was in the camp three times a week. About fifty prisoners used to take part in my lessons. I got friendly with them and they turned out to be really nice prisoners. I helped them as much as I could. The most important thing I could do for them was taking and bringing letters. According to the camp regulations, the prisoners were allowed to send letters once every three months or once every six. I took the letters always when they asked me. I often carried about twenty or thirty letters. Every time passing the guards, I had this silly smile on my face. Naturally, nobody never inspected me. To make it more exciting, I must say that it wasn’t a kind of camp for political prisoners but for sexual ones. My superior was a headmaster of the school".