Homeland they can never forget

Poland may not have had a decent World Cup team since 1974, but in the past 25 years the country wedged between Germany and the former USSR has exercised tremendous influence on events in Europe.

In 1978 Karol Wojtyla, Archbishop of Cracow, was elected Pope and took the name John Paul II.

The Baltic ship-building town of Gdansk made world headlines with the formation of the trades union movement Solidarity, with its charismatic leader, shipyard electrician Lech Walesa, who rose to become Poland's President.

It was Solidarity's refusal to capitulate to martial law and the Pope's stand on human rights and religious worship which rattled the Iron Curtain from Warsaw to Sofia, and helped bring it down in 1989.

These events were mirrored in the movie Danton, made by the great Polish director Andrzej Wajda ostensibly to mark the bi-centenary of the French Revolution. Subsequently the movies of another Polish director, the late Kryzstof Kieslowski - Decalogue, A Short Film About Love and particularly the trilogy Three Colours: Blue, White and Red - have been acclaimed the world over.

All these subjects and events cropped up during the couple of hours I spent with four of Bradford's Poles in the Polish Parish Club, in Edmund Street. Like most expatriate peoples, they are passionately interested in the history, language and culture of their homeland. They consider themselves political exiles, not economic refugees.

The Pope's historic visit to Cuba didn't get much coverage here, so many of Bradford's 2,500 Poles tuned in to one of Polish TV's five satellite channels where it was big news.

Pope John Paul's pastoral mission has caused him to roam much of the world in the past 20 years; but historical circumstances obliged many of his fellow countrymen and women to seek a new life in the cities of North America, Argentina, Australia, and Britain.

My observation that the Poles were the Irish of Eastern Europe prompted Ryszard Wolny, chairman of the Polish Roman Catholic Community, to recount a joke. "What is the second biggest city of Poland?" he asked, his grey-blue eyes twinkling. "Chicago," he said when I gave in.

Revolt and war have many times altered Poland's historic borders, causing Poles to flee westwards. But it was the 1939 Nazi-Soviet Pact which carved up the territory between Hitler and Stalin and removed Poland from the map of Europe, which sparked off World War II and led to the dispersal of millions of Poles (and the systematic massacre of millions of Jews).

Mr Wolny and his parents were forcibly removed from their village in Eastern Poland by Soviet soldiers and transported to Siberia. He belongs to the longest-established generation of Bradford's post-war Poles, who tune in to Polish TV.

Polish priest the Rev Bronislaw Gostomski explained why. "It's only Polish TV which shows programmes about towns like Lvov, that used to belong to Poland. Nostalgia is very big among Poles."

Poles fought in the Battle of Britain and at Arnhem. After the war about 250,000 of them were in Britain, many in resettlement camps in Yorkshire. Thousands emigrated to other parts of the world; those who stayed gravitated to the industrial towns and cities of the North and the Midlands.

"There were 5,000 in Bradford in 1950, because of the textile trade," said Jan Niczyperowicz, chairman of the Federation of Poles in Bradford. He was born in Leeds, where he is a social worker, but has lived in Bradford with his wife since 1987.

"Polish culture is basically Western culture. There is a strong affiliation to the Roman Catholic Church which has kept them going for years," he added.

"The only discomfort we felt in 1948 was the language," said Ryszard Wolny. "Also, I could not change my job without notifying the boss or move my address without telling the police."

Mr Niczyperowicz, who switched rapidly from English to Polish to make certain words and ideas clearer, said these restrictions were for everybody, not just Poles, but things changed in 1961 with the removal of the Alien Registration Act.

Roman Haluszczak, an official of the Polish Parish Club, who works in local government, believes that younger people of Polish extraction do not suffer an identity crisis, as some young Muslims seem to, because they are bi-cultural and willing to adapt.

"I don't think there is any conflict," he said. The others agreed.

"Of the 100 years of Bradford's history as a city Poles have been here for 50 years," said Mr Gostomski. Mr Niczyperowicz immediately added a post-script to this statement.

"It's been a quiet presence. We have our own way of doing things. We are self-sufficient. We recognise that the Polish community is getting smaller, but it has not lost its vibrancy," he said.

I asked if the Polish community had adapted to Bradford by shutting itself off from indigenous people and the other Eastern European ethnic groups here.

"I would say 85 per cent of marriages are mixed now. We try to make the non-Polish person welcome," Mr Niczyperowicz added, describing the annual International Mass held in Bradford for all Eastern European Catholics.

Far from nurturing a ghetto mentality, the Poles are eager to embrace native Bradfordians. They want as many as possible to attend the mass of thanksgiving at St Joseph's Church, Pakington Street, on Sunday, which will be celebrated by the Bishop of Leeds, the Right Reverend David Konstant, and the buffet lunch afterwards in the parish hall. It's the Polish community's way of saying thank you for the past 50 years.

But the celebrations do not stop there. In August the Polish Ex-Servicemen's Association marks its 50th anniversary with a mass and a dinner. Then, from November 13 to 15, Archbishop Szczepan Wesoly, the Polish Archbishop in Rome, will spend three days in Bradford. He may have his own memories of the area, for he used to live and work in Halifax.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.