Poland is an emotional place. Despite what people may tell you, that people generally keep to themselves in Europe, there is no sense of an aloof attitude or one where people don’t seem to care, not in Poland. It is quite the opposite. I have found people in Poland kind and helpful. They are warm and at times funny. Yet there is an emotion that I have felt since my arrival that I have tried to ascertain. Its best name is pain. Pain is front and center in the collective memory of the people here. It enters into many conversations. Pain seems to be in the DNA of people. It is even on display in the architecture.

Warsaw is divided into three cities with three distinct facades. There is the old Russian part of the city. It is fascinating to see. Our host told us to look for the dreary-looking, high-rise apartment buildings that look like stacked boxes. It was dominated by a harsh way of living under Russian control. People were not allowed to speak out against the government. People were tortured and slaughtered indiscriminately. There was little food. The weather was harsh. People died an early death.

Then there is the part of Warsaw that was destroyed during World War II. Most of those buildings have been rebuilt, but some survived the bombings. The remains have historical markers now. They still have the scars of war. There are holes in the side of concrete from the shells and armament of the day. Some windows are still boarded up. In addition, some buildings have observable markers. In Jewish areas, we touched the lines of demarcation that Jews were not permitted to cross. We observed the buildings where Jews were required to register and of course where Jews were lined up and sent elsewhere.

Then, there are these new, magnificent buildings made of glass that we typically see in the United States. For example, the hotel, Westin Warsaw, is a gigantic, plush, 20-story building with glass elevators.

As soon as you view the architecture, you encounter the pain associated with it. It is as if the structures seem to talk on the outside and on the inside. We visited the historic Reformed Church of Poland, met the pastor, and then looked at the wall of pastors that served the church. These portraits in black and white were still in good condition. Three pastors were singled out for our review. These saints were exterminated in the ovens of Dachau during World War II. Suddenly, the pain of this place rises to the surface, and I felt some unease in this realization. One must come to terms with pain in Warsaw.

Soon we were to eat at a historic restaurant called the Red Pig. Here there were pictures on the wall of the former Russian President, Leonid Brezhnev. Fidel Castro’s portrait was next to him. This restaurant did not hold either man in high regard, hence the name of the restaurant. Russians are not highly thought of in Warsaw. The same goes for communists in general. There is still anger over the history of the past. I can feel it. It is not a suffocating pain, but pain announces its presence.

Then, there is the modern part of the city that experiences the tragedy of the war in Ukraine. These new buildings observe the arrival of 300,000 refugees into Warsaw. The refugees endured 35 hours of waiting at the border to be let into Poland. Some died on the roadside on the way. Others, particularly children, died from dehydration. The survivors, 150,000 being children, are here. They have brought their pain.

Thus, Warsaw is packed, painfully so. There isn’t any more room even though projections indicate that another 300,000 are on the way.

The refugees bring their stories, and they bring their pictures. It is all so graphic.

Below has been one of the more troubling pictures for me. It is a picture of two grave markers for a mother and her son that died as they fled Ukraine.

The signs read:

“Here is what they look like now”

Ivan Met (born December 4th, 2009)

Maria Met (born February 14, 1980)

The image of their death date is hard to determine from the picture. Our interpreters think they died a few weeks after the beginning of the war, in early March.

Once again, Warsaw is no easy place to visit. There is pain here that is viewed, felt, and held within one’s soul.

Mark Mueller
Executive Director

Pain: Ukranian Refugees in Poland