Left behind by the world

by Maria Wilczek (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Poland

We meet at the tinned food aisle at the local supermarket in Warsaw. Mrs Hala leans over the shelf, clutching her warm burgundy coat and beige beret. She needs help reading the fine print on a can of tomatoes. Mrs Hala embodies something universal: that many people wait anxiously to be one day asked about their story. And when no one asks, they grow impatient. Eventually they begin to offer it up themselves. She takes a step closer, breathes in... - So tell me, are you working already? In her prime, Mrs Hala says she was a mohair hat maker in socialist Poland. Her beret designs were considered to be the best in the city. They were flown out all the way to Australia for trade shows. Even during searing antipodal summers, stylish Australian ladies would marvel at how well the woollen hats compliment their faces, and end up wearing them all year round. - Young lady, are you religious? Today, she feeds pigeons by the nearby library. She is buying a pack of groats for them just now. One of the pigeons is ginger, and she likes it best. She has also picked up something for herself. A leafy head of salad, good for her diabetes. But! - she adds suddenly alarmed - she can also afford oranges, which many shoppers skimp on. She simply prefers not to buy them. Shopping trolleys continue squeezing past us, as she takes another deep breath. - And is your partner good to you? Hers was not. She says he was demonic, and to this day she does not understand how it was possible for someone like her to be married to someone like him. Every question is an opening to share more about her own life with me. As I become more impatient, she becomes hungrier to speak. The creamy whites of her eyes become larger, more intense. - Young lady, do you live around here? Mrs Hala lives in the Powiśle neighbourhood. The riverside location was once one of Warsaw’s dodgiest spots. Its uninviting tenement facades, scarred by wartime shrapnel, looked lonely. It stank of swamp and stories went around of criminal gangs disposing of bodies in the weeds on the Vistula's banks. That has all changed now. Outside students shuffle past the modernist copper facade of the Warsaw University Library. The neighbourhood is littered with vegan eateries, Belgian chip shops and taco bars. A gallery of designer shops has filled the previously abandoned building of the riverside power station, Elektrownia Powiśle. Scattered electric scooters obstruct the pavement. Mrs Hala tries to catch up with students. For three years now, she has “been carrying out an opinion poll” of her own. She likes to ask students a single question. - What do you think is the most important thing in life? But she already has knows the right answer, and when one of her respondents utters it, she squeezes their arms in silent agreement. She believes it is love: the Christian kind, for her fellow men, and for her eagerly waiting pigeons.