Irena and Maria Malinowska Wacyk

Immigration Story

Maria Wacyk

Irena Wacyk – mother (deceased)

Maria Mandryk – grandmother (deceased)

Iwanna Kosarchyn – aunt (deceased)

My immigrant story is an extension of the story of my family’s flight from their homeland – Galicia in Poland – and our eventual settlement in Canada.

During WWII, when Germany invaded Poland, my grandmother’s home in Kalusz, Poland, was commandeered by German army engineers assigned to maintain and repair German army rolling stock. The family was allowed to remain in their home in exchange for accommodation and meals prepared by my grandmother. When the German army began its retreat in 1943, the German engineers offered to take our family with them – again, in exchange for my grandmother’s food preparation. The family included my grandmother, grandfather, my aunt – age 20, and my mother – age 18. My grandfather, as an accountant, was given responsibility for accounts and record keeping – purportedly to justify his presence to German authorities.

So for 2 years, my family lived in train boxcars, following the retreating German front though Europe, while ducking bombs and bullets. They foraged for food and my grandmother continued to feed the engineers and our family with whatever they found. Along the way, my mother had met and married Wolodymir Malinowksi, who became my father. On April 22, 1945, the train was abandoned and its occupants were forced to flee Berlin. Two trucks were secured to evacuate everyone – the men went in one and the women in the other. Due to a shortage of space, my grandfather joined the women. The trucks were separated – but the truck with the men was attacked by Russian soldiers and all the men – including my father – were killed. I was not yet born.

My family eventually found their way to the British zone where they were interred in a displaced persons camp in Heidenau. My mother, with her multi-lingual skills, became the camp Commandant’s Secretary. On December 11, 1945, I was born in the camp, on a door placed between 2 chairs. My mother continued her forages to the black market to obtain sustenance for us all. With the additional aid of the Salvation Army, we were, for the first time in years, fed and housed.

But further tragedy befell our family. In 1947, my mother and grandfather were struck by a train while walking near the camp – my beloved grandfather was killed and my mother suffered multiple injuries. And so we became a family group of 4 women.

Following the Treaty of Yalta many Ukrainians became victims of “resettlement” to Soviet occupied Poland. In effect, in most cases, this ultimately resulted in their banishment to hard labour in Siberia or being shot by Soviet authorities upon arrival. In desperation, my mother began to seek out family members overseas with a view to gaining sponsorship for resettlement elsewhere.

My grandmother had a distant uncle in Canada, but had no idea where he was or how to get in touch with him. Ever resourceful, my mother – having been an avid film fan – wrote to Ukrainian Hollywood actor, John Hodiak (addressed to: John Hodiak, Hollywood U.S.A.) – enlisting his help to help find our relative. Amazingly, Mr. Hodiak responded by placing ads in the Ukrainian newspapers in Canada. My uncle saw the ad and got in touch with us through the Red Cross and so sponsored our family’s passage and entry to Canada.

We arrived in Halifax on the SS Samaria on March 27, 1949. As I was 4 years old, I have only vague memories of the voyage. We were billeted low in the ship, many were very seasick, but there was an enclosed play area for small children.

When we arrived at Pier 21, we were not allowed to leave the area, and were immediately placed on a train destined for Regina. We had few belongings – but they did include grandma’s photographs from their earlier life. She wanted Canadians to know that, contrary to their bedraggled appearance, we were people who had been prosperous and well regarded in their community.

The train trip was long, very cold, uncomfortable and bleak, with miles of forests and snow covered prairie. We sat and slept on wooden benches that had been placed along the walls of the train cars. I developed a protracted nose bleed that forced a stop somewhere in northern Ontario, where I received medical treatment.

We were met in Regina by my grandmother’s cousin and lived in his modest home for about 3 years. My mother got a job washing dishes in a Chinese restaurant, but with the help of the Honourable Tommy Douglas – a friend of my uncle’s – she got a job as a cleaner at the Grey Nuns Hospital – where she was quickly promoted to a nursing aid. My uncle had borrowed money from a friend to pay for our passage and my mother was very proud when she was eventually able to repay it She had to abandon her dream of becoming a surgeon, but had a long career as an R.N. A., was instrumental in getting equal pay for women at her hospital and was honored by her colleagues when she retired. While she knew no English when she arrived, she very quickly learned enough to get by and in time, developed her own unique version of the language – which she taught herself by reading newspaper comics.

My aunt married and moved to Sudbury where she raised a son. She continued to do beautiful Ukrainian embroidery and actively contributed to Sudbury’s Ukrainian community.

My mother remarried and in 1952 gave birth to my half-sister, Tatiana, who happily, has no war memories and is an accomplished and successful lawyer.

In 1953, we moved to Prince Albert, and bought an old house across from the CN train roundhouse and a block from the Stockyards. While not in a desirable area, it had a large yard, where grandma planted a garden so that she could continue her role as household cook. Our neighbours were very wary of us and were perplexed by the kohlrabi, dill and poppies that she grew (for her poppy seed cake) – resulting in the arrival of local police advising her that growing poppies were illegal. The neighbors were completely baffled and alarmed when they began to see smoke and smell smoked meat from the garage. My stepfather had converted the garage to a smokehouse so that the family could enjoy the European style kielbasa to which they were accustomed! Over time, the local delicatessen saw the business opportunity and began to sell products familiar to our Eastern European palate. As well, grandma learned how to make Canadian staples e.g. fish and chips; burgers; hot dogs, and discovered the joy of peanut butter and other Canadian delicacies.

My grandmother, having arrived here as an older person, never mastered the English language and it was our task to translate the daily news to her. It took many years before she felt secure. The first time she saw the Northern Lights, she thought the Russians were attacking! She took Canadian politics very seriously, passionately loved this country and voted in every election.

When I began school, I did not speak any English, but quickly learned. My childhood was a blend of learning new customs and language and trying to maintain Ukrainian language and traditions, largely through the Ukrainian Catholic Church. I graduated from the University of Saskatchewan in 1967 and held senior positions with the Governments of Canada, Ontario, and Nunavut as well as at York University in Toronto.

I have travelled extensively across this country and lived in Regina, Moose Jaw, Calgary, Winnipeg, Iqaluit and for the most part, in Toronto. I continue to be filled with wonder by this land’s beauty and variety of cultures and languages - yet all Canadian.

My husband of 40 years, Frank Polan, a second generation Canadian of Irish/English descent, now likely knows more about my early beginnings than he ever wanted or needed to – having heard family stories many times over the years.

From the start, my mother instilled in me a strong patriotism for Canada, and the importance of exercising our right to vote. To this day, I view my Canadian citizenship with pride and gratitude for the opportunities that this country has provided to me and my family.

About 15 years ago, we took my mother to Halifax to Pier 21. Nothing seemed familiar to her until she saw the rail tracks and went out to the sea side of the building. Then she shouted – “This is it – this is the spot where we landed”!