Around Kolbuszowa
The Moving Church ~ Poreby Dymarskie ~ Ancestral Farm
I would never have found grandfather’s church if I hadn’t sat beside Vitek on a flight home from Poland. He was curious and asked if I was writing a book… seeing me scribble non-stop in my journal. At that time I didn’t know I was preparing to do exactly that. We marveled at the coincidence that I had been in Kolbuszowa which was his home and visited the Cmolas church which was his parish. I lamented the loss of the old church when he quickly corrected me that it still stands and was moved to Poreby Dymarskie, and in fact, it’s the church where he was married ! The Coincidences during my search have been mind boggling.
Of course that meant there had to be another trip to Poland so that Gosia and I could find the Rzasa’s church. My mind’s eye can still conjure the image of the young priest in his long black vestment teaching a summer school class as the sun shafts slanted across the carpet. Rich gold trim on the side altar, stars painted on a field of blue ceiling and ancient paintings along the side walls were obviously precious. I couldn’t believe I was standing where my grandfather had stood as a boy and young man.
Years later I was able to attend mass at this special church. Forewarned that seats filled early, I came 15 minutes before mass was due to begin. I squeezed into the last open space at the end of a narrow wooden bench and was enchanted by the sound of the Polish parishioners reciting the rosary in unison and continuing like a chant until the start of the mass.
I imagined my grandfather may have been an altar boy like these boys in white cassocks.
I don’t have words to describe what all this felt like for me. I was so lucky to experience those people, that place, that extraordinary time.
The old 1660 church was moved from its original location by local farmers using horses, men and wagons. Wladek gives us a description of the process:
“When they were moving church, all hamlets were put into groups and the leader had to provide how many men to work, some with carts. Every farmer had a horse - some of them even two.
Every log had plate number on it and they were wrapped in paper and then foil. You were allowed to have one log in one cart/wagon. Farmers were not allowed to sit on the log during transport, they had to walk to the new place. Then wooden logs were unwrapped and as there was communism, and we had no sponges, women were cleaning logs with fresh bread as it works same as sponge. Then logs were put into bath with conservation liquid. They made special wooden baths for logs.. than drying... etc. Every log was treated individually.”
Wladek’s grandfather was one of the men who helped move the church. “ Yes, my dad's father helped moving the church and there was professional guidance. My grandfather name is Bronislaw Rzasa, but all men and women from the village helped. People from Cmolas worked at Cmolas, they were taking parts of the church down. People from Poreby were moving church and putting all bits together.” Some sections needed to be rebuilt - interiors were restored. Paintings on the wall are very early.
There was a day when I received a message from a young man in Poland who saw my Cmolas pages on the Virtual Tourist web site. He was curious about this American woman with such an interest in his church and town. He soon asked me to write my story to be translated and posted on the web site he and a friend had created for Poreby Dymarskie. Of course I agreed and Gosia did her usual expert translation. That was the start of my learning so much more about my family through this young man, Wladek, who has become very dear to me. Our research has continued over the years and we discovered we are DNA matched cousins. He has shared his family and their farm home, which was once owned by one of my ancestors. Wladek and his family have allowed me to reach a depth of understanding and familiarity with the life my grandfather lived in Poland that I would never have been able to achieve without their warm, helpful nature.
The Farm
The farm operates much the same as it did in the 1800’s. The cow is walked and milked daily to provide all the milk, cream and cheese for the household. Chickens give them eggs, pigs are grown and slaughtered for meat and kielbasa. Every part of the animal is used, cooked, frozen, smoked and stored. Vegetables come from the garden, potatoes from the field, firewood from the forest and grain is grown to feed the animals. Wladek once joked that the only thing his parents buy is salt. Well, not exactly, but when fresh bread comes out of the oven to accompany hot rye soup with a dollop of lard, you know Wladek is not too far off when he says it. The fields are plowed with an old tractor instead of the horse which his father preferred but became too difficult to maintain. I got to drive the tractor once. We all had a good laugh over me as a novice farm hand.
Wladek’s mother, Maria bakes all the bread, makes the butter, and both parents are masterful when it’s time to slaughter a pig or make the kielbasa. The time I’ve spent watching the operation of the farm, riding the hay wagon, or being fed those wonderful pure foods have been very precious in my memory. These people have chosen to live this way. Mieciu is proud of his inventions, hand made to ease repetitive labor chores and Maria’s cow is a source of great pride as she walks to and from the grazing field every morning and night.
