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Cultural Migration in Autobiography Grundtvig Partnerships 2009-2011

This project has been funded with support from the European Commission. This publication reflects the views only of the author, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.

e-mail: kszia@komesnet.com.pl http://cma.internetdsl.pl

24

Special moments of our life are like a string of beads Natalia

All special moments of our life are like a string of beads carefully threaded. My autobiography began at Christmas time. My parents threaded the first bead – they gave me a name. Thus, I was born 55 years ago in a city Akmoła whose name translated from Kazakh means “white grave”; my name is Natalia Mużanowska. Elderly Kazakhs told a story about Chingis-Chan. When he set off his victorious march towards Europe, the way laid through Akmała. However, he did not stay for the night as he was

afraid of “white death” (Kazakhs called in this way uranium ore bed) Thousands of Polish families were sent to live forever to this “white grave”. Repatriating “the enemies of nation” to Kazakh steppes, Soviets well comprehended that people would not be able to survive without shelter, food, and domestic animals. In summer the temperature rose to 40*C and the land was pestered by sand storms. In winter the weather conditions were completely different, -40*C and blizzards. In my family archive there is still kept a document of my relatives’ forced displacement to Kazakhstan.

There is an absolutely cynic phrase written on the document: “transport to the destination is free” God gave man the power that is why my parents survived, I only regret I have no chance to meet my grandfather. He died shortly before my birth. My father’s parents actually gave birth to four children. Adam the eldest and of a legal age was sent to Karaganda whereas my juvenile father with his sister and parents had to go 36 km away to Akmoła, that is why the place is called “point 36” In Karaganda uncle Adam fell ill with a brain cancer. In frosty winter days my grandfather went on foot to Akmoła as he wanted to obtain a permission from KGB to see the dying son. On the permission there was only one word: “Rejected” When my grandmother Józefa found out that the request was rejected, she came to a very risky decision – she went to Karaganda without any permission. She knew well the consequences. She took the risk although she could have been sentenced with 10 years of gulag. Her meeting with the son ended with her husband’s death, Mikołaj Mużanowski, my grandpa died of heart attack. Soon, in Karaganda died also my uncle.

So called “Polish problem” touched me soon after my birthday. My father was ordered to report at the Militia Station every month to confirm that none of his family had ever crossed the border of the settlement. I was only 1,5 so I do not remember well these events. I merely started my life. When Stalin died, the situation of the oppressed people changed. They could have studied at the universities, they left settlements, visited different countries in the Soviet Union. Due to Soviet repressive policy Kazakhstan became a country of over than 140 nationalities, all equipped with the individual past, culture and language. It was a real mixture, nobody paid attention to different accents as there was no standardized language.I could divide my autobiography into parts, the first one went by in the Soviet Union, where I successfully completed secondary school, university, then got married and gave birth to my children. I will let myself spend a while on my childhood and the young years. I always remained a sturdily independent person, because of that my parents were very often surprised by my unexpected, usually strange decisions.

In fact there were not so many of them but all of them had a profound effect on my life.