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In the footsteps of Polish-Africans: a conversation with Amanda Chalupa

Community, History  |  November 2, 2016

Amanda Chalupa is a Polish-Montrealer working on her PhD in Social & Transcultural Psychiatry at McGill. She met Jonathan through the Polish-African community in Montreal in 2009, and their paths have crossed many times over the years, through her research alongside the development of Memory Is Our Homeland. We spoke in October 2016 about her personal connection to her work, why many of the Polish camps post WWII were generally positive environments, and what it felt like to trace her grandparents' steps in Tanzania.

 

How did you meet Jonathan, and how has your collaboration evolved over the years?

A Polish priest working in Tanzania, Wojciech Adam Kościelniak, was hosting an event in Montreal to meet with Poles who had been in Africa during WWII. I drove my grandmother, who had been in a camp in Tanzania, and stayed with her for the event. This is where I met Jonathan - we were the only two guests under 60, so we started talking and realized that our grandmothers had been in Tengeru together. Being in CEGEP at that time, I was just starting to explore this history more in-depth from an academic approach. Initially, it was just great to have someone from my generation to talk to about this history. We gave a couple of presentations together about the history and the early outputs of our respective work. Over the years, both Jonathan and I started asking similar questions, having similar insights, and attending the same Polish-African reunions. For the last few years, our collaboration evolved from sharing an interest in a similar family history, to greater involvement on my end in the production process of Memory Is Our Homeland and discussions with Jonathan that inform my research.

 

What’s the focus of your PhD, and how did you end up pursuing this field?

I study how child migrants rebuild their lives on individual and community levels, and what policies facilitate these processes. In particular, I meet with Polish people around the world who were sent to Soviet labour camps as children during WWII. My work underscores the role of memory in troubled times; when migrants are often negatively perceived and treated. I ended up pursuing this research through a lifetime of experiences related to my family history. As a child, I tried to understand why soldiers wanted to kill my grandparents when they were children. In high school, I started to question why no one knew about the thousands of Polish children who grew up in refugee camps around the world. Then in CEGEP, I was puzzled by discrepancies between my family’s  refugee camp experience and that of current refugees - the former being relatively positive and the latter often horrific. During my undergraduate studies, I dove into the literature and resurfaced with answers constructed from various disciplines… and with more questions. I met with survivors around the world and learned the value of oral history.

 

How would you describe the experience of Polish refugees migrating post-WWII and their connection to a sense of homeland?

The Polish government-in-exile operating out of London was largely involved in the movement of Polish people around the world. Most of the refugee camp management was done by Poles, many of whom had gone through the gulags as well. Schools and Scouts groups were established for the children. Children were also encouraged to think of themselves as the future of Poland -  there was a strong hope to return home after the war. Post-war politics and border changes, however, made this out of the question for many. The experience of the Polish refugees after WWII was varied depending on many factors such as their age, the country they moved to, whether they ended up in a big or small city. Some were resettled with family, some were young adults looking for work, and others were orphans who were adopted along with others from of the community of Polish-Africans.

 

Through anecdotes from Jonathan and in the film, it’s clear that many Poles have positive memories of their time in African refugee camps. This seems contradictory, especially given the negative reputation of most refugee camps today. Are there any successful strategies from the Polish settlements that would be relevant today?

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Three grandchildren of Polish refugees who had been in Tengeru, Tanzania, visiting the cemetery and site of their families' former refugee camp. From left to right: Jonathan Durand, Annabelle Augustyn, and Amanda Chalupa.

From my research, it appears that social supports and social activities contributed to these positive memories and preparation for later parts of their migration journey. These included schools, theatre groups, “safaris” (trips), dance groups, Scout groups… there was a sense of routine and things to look forward to. Most of the camps were self-managed, so adults felt empowered and had routine too. Of course, the scale and size of the camps were very different from today. But there is something to be said for creating such safe spaces.

What was your impression on your first trip to the former refugee camp in Tanzania where your family once lived?

Walking through the gates of the Polish cemetery in Tengeru was like stepping into an oasis. It was peaceful, tidy, and organized. It was full of life, trees, flowers, and stories. Jonathan and I also explored the surrounding area - dirt roads, crossing the river, pointing out old buildings, and sitting by Lake Duluti. The experience of this trip added colour, sound, and warmth to my grandparents' photos and stories.

For more about Amanda, check out her work in Social and Transcultural Psychiatry at McGill, or her contributions to the Polish diaspora journal Cosmopolitan Review. 

 

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In conversation with Jonathan Durand

Behind the scenes  |  October 3, 2016

We recently sat down with Memory Is Our Homeland Writer & Director Jonathan Durand to chat about how this film came to be, it's evolution over the years, and the impact that he hopes it will have once it's completed. Here is a slightly abridged version of our conversation:

You’ve been working on this project for several years. At what point did you decide that the best way to tell this story was a documentary film?

When I was a young kid, I knew two things about my grandmother: that she was Polish, and that she had grown up in Africa. At first, these facts didn’t mean much to me, but as I got older, these two ideas were less easy to reconcile. That’s when I started becoming more interested in my grandmother’s story, and her community more broadly.

From there, the project naturally evolved as a documentary. I was living in South Africa about ten years ago, and using video to tell the stories of community groups there. That's when I started asking questions about my own family history - why was it that I felt so at home in southern Africa? It was an easy transition to beginning to film my grandmother and her friends - I would set up a camera, and the sharing of stories felt natural.

How did your family and other characters respond to your filming and telling of this story?

In terms of Polish-African refugees like my grandmother, you can pretty much split them into two categories: those who don’t want to talk about it, and those who want and have a need to tell their story, because no one has believed them their entire lives. I was lucky to grow up in a family of storytellers. At the beginning, my grandmother would talk about "The Eye" filming her, but then she got used to it. Most of the characters are so accustomed to talking about their lives, that with time they didn’t notice that the camera was on.

What impact do you expect the film will have on the Polish community?

This has always been a community project - even though the characters are spread out around the world, the people at the heart of this story grew up as a tight-knit group in East Africa. There is still a strong sense of something shared even though they’re very spread out geographically. Now with the benefits of technology, they’ll be able to access it online. So in this way, the film can serve as a means of bringing people together - not only those who survived this ordeal but their children and grandchildren as well. In a real sense the film is part of the larger evolution of a shared myth, over time.

Have recent changes in media technology influenced approach to making the film?

When I started the project it was very modest, using a very simple and intimate way of filming. Since then, cameras have evolved, the filming process has changed a bit. The biggest change, however, has been in terms of sharing the story more broadly. Social media barely existed when I started researching this history, and YouTube was a new thing. Today, when I put things online, people that I’ve never met will get in touch and ask questions about the project, because often they share a similar background or curiosity. So technology hasn't massively changed how I operate in filming, but it has had a big influence on connecting with new people and getting the word out.

For those who may not be familiar with the history, what is the short version of how did this group of Poles end up here in Africa?

People usually know about main actors in WW II, but less so about the fate of Polish refugees, because it was happening behind the scenes, it didn’t fit within a straightforward narrative. From 1939-41 the Soviet Union deported somewhere between 300,000 to 1.5 million people from Poland to work camps across the Soviet Union (the numbers are still a matter of debate). They were not interested in one ethnic group in particular, but rather any Polish citizens - not only men but entire, multi-generational families, to work in mines and forestry. Then everything changed when the Soviet Union was invaded by Nazi Germany. All of a sudden, the Soviets were on the Allied side with the British, Americans, Canadians -  and with Poland. A negotiation ensued, and it was agreed that families, meaning mostly women and children, could be sent through Iran to refugee camps in Africa, India, Australia, Lebanon, and all over the world.

What does homeland mean to you?

It's not necessarily a physical place - I grew up knowing that my family was Polish, but also that they had been living in East Africa. I began trying to connect who they were, and where they were from, but the places they are from aren’t part of Poland anymore, so there isn't a physical "homeland" to go back to, strictly speaking. I've spent years trying to figure out where they’re from and concluded that your homeland is a place where you have the strongest memories. In my family's case, this is often Africa, but it's also a transient notion of home that incorporates many of the cultures and places they've lived in.

Has your personal sense of homeland shifted over the course of making the film?

I consider myself a Montrealer, a Quebecer, and a Canadian. But I've come to feel connected to all the various places that I’ve been to, and that my family has passed through, like Tehran or Sub-Saharan Africa.  It's hard not to feel a sense of connectedness to these places. I've also explored my roots in Eastern Europe, having become friends with people who worked and lived next to my family seventy-five years ago. So I feel connected to many places simultaneously.

Where does the title of the film come from?

Many years ago, I found myself on rideshare to Toronto sitting next to a spoken word artist. We were chatting the whole drive and finally discovered that our Polish ancestors could have been neighbours, having gone through the same experience of being deported to Siberia and then Iran. l was blown away by the coincidence, not having met many people like this before. That’s when it struck me that a sense of homeland and community isn’t just rooted to a particular place, but to the memories that we carry with us.

Why should people see this film?

This is a project dealing with a specific diaspora story of Polish refugees in Africa that very few people know about. At the same time, as soon as you start understanding their experiences, it's easy to make connections with all sorts of cultures. So many people have had their stories written out of the official history books, whether First Nations in Canada or African communities who were told by colonizing powers that their communal memories weren't “real history”. This film is about how history survives even when it’s erased, through grandparents telling their children, and then their grandchildren. It’s the oldest form of preserving history. I’m looking forward to connecting with audiences, showing them these images and sharing this very specific, but ultimately universal, story.