After a very long trip from Kansas City to Toronto to
Frankfurt, I finally arrived in Warsaw, Poland, in the mid-afternoon on June
14. I felt increasingly out of place
during the final leg of the trip from Frankfurt to Warsaw-Chopin, aboard
Lufthansa, and I felt like I was finally entering a place different to western
European cultures I was used to.
The cab driver who took me to the Polonia Palace Hotel in
downtown Warsaw was friendly enough – to me.
As soon as we pulled away from the taxi stand at the airport, however,
another automobile cut us off – in a very minor way in my opinion – and my taxi
driver actually forced the car to the side of the road, got out of our car, and
loudly berated the driver in angry, machine-gun, Polish. That was different. But then he got back in and was friendly as
can be to me. “How do you like our
city?”, he asked.
We passed a large cemetery with a vast array of monuments
and I asked him what it was. He replied
that it was a Russian monument with graves of Russian soldiers and that we
don’t care about that (it was actually the Soviet Military Cemetery
commemorating Soviet soldiers who died in World War II). He also pointed out the large Palace of
Culture looming in the distance and said that he’d like to see it torn
down. All along the way I noticed that
the Poles obviously don’t value green grass and landscaping the way we do in
USA. The median in the wide boulevard we
were cruising along was overgrown with weeds and none of the bushes or trees
were well-trimmed. The taxi driver
pointed out how pretty was the city’s landscaping. To my American eyes it all looked unkempt but
that’s just me. As we passed one
restaurant the driver pointed out that it was the best American-style sports
bar in the city – best hamburgers around.
Actually, that’s not what I was looking for.
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| Polonia Palace Hotel, Warsaw |
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| Palace of Culture and Science, Warsaw |
The cab driver’s attitude toward the Russian and Soviet
monuments belied a general attitude that I’d see a lot of later on. Poland and Russia have historically been the
two major Slavic cultures in northeastern Europe and they’ve continuously
challenged one another for hegemony over the area. In the very early Medieval period, Poland had
the upper hand and even as late as the times of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth, Poland was the largest country in Europe, geographically
speaking. But Russia in the 17th
Century was growing in strength and by the time of the Partitions (last quarter
of the 18th Century) completely overshadowed and dominated Poland. In fact, Poland even ceased to exist during
the 19th Century as a separate political entity. After World War I, Poland briefly re-surfaced
as the Second Republic was set up by the victors of the greater war, and Russia
was hobbled by its own civil war (after the Bolshevik Revolution of October,
1917). During World War II, when Poland
was invaded from the west by the Nazis, Stalin little by little took over from
the east, setting up total Soviet domination in the post-war era. Finally, in the 1980s, Poland was able to
shake off its communist chains (as well as Russian domination) and by 1999 had
even joined NATO (a spectacular turnaround for the country that provided the
namesake for the Warsaw Pact).
After arriving at the Polonia Palace, I got settled in my
room and tried to turn the air conditioner down as far as it could go. I’d learn quickly that air conditioning in
Poland is not what I’m used to in the USA.
Granted, it was unusually hot in Warsaw at the time – over 90 degrees
Fahrenheit – but none of the air conditioners seemed to be able to cope with
that kind of summer heat.
Out on the street, the afternoon sun was brutal as it beat
down on the sidewalks. I struggled to
find a place to cross wide Jerozolimskie (Jerusalem) Street. I finally used the underground tunnel system
and was able to navigate my way to the Palace of Culture, directly across the
street from the hotel. This building was
Stalin’s final gift to the Polish people.
He built it as a monument to communism, a gift to the Poles, but they
were taxed heavily to fund building the huge structure, still the tallest
building in the city. Thanks Uncle Joe. The building is sometimes referred to as the
“Eighth Sister”, the only one of a series of buildings known as the Seven
Sisters that stands outside of the City of Moscow.
Dinner that night was an introduction to the rest of the
trip – introduction to the other folks on the tour, to our tour guide, and to
Polish food (which means lots of soup).
Tonight, it was pea soup and afterwards I had a good time getting to
know some of my travel companions. Our
Polish tour leader had actually been a companion of Peter J. Klassen, the
recently-deceased California history professor who kind of “started” Mennonite
touring in Poland after the fall of the communist regime. We would come to learn that our guide, among
many other Polish folks, was a very kind man who had a great appreciation for
Mennonite culture and the contributions our ancestors made to the history of
his homeland.
The next day began with a tour of Warsaw. Beginning with the Łazienki Park, we also saw
Chopin monuments (Frédéric Chopin, number 1 citizen of Poland), and a newly
constructed Jewish history museum. The
guide’s main focus throughout all this was the events of World War II and how
the Polish people, including the local Jewish population, suffered. While this is indeed true and while I agree
that the people suffered horribly, I wished there would have been a little more
about the history of earlier time periods.
Mennonites lived in Poland beginning in the period known as the
Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, or the First Republic (the Commonwealth was
established in 1569 while Mennonites also began coming to this land in the
mid-16th Century), and Warsaw was a major city in that time period. I wished we could have seen some sights or talked
a bit more about the 16th – 19th Centuries instead of delving
so deeply into WWII.
Poland has a long and very colorful history and the
Mennonites contributed to the culture starting in the 16th
Century. Poland proper is the area south
and west of Warsaw, itself in a region historically known as Masovia. The areas north of Poland proper are
Pomerania (Kashubia), Kuyavia, and Prussia.
The place-name of Prussia is one that is very familiar to Low German
Mennonites even through it’s probably often misunderstood.
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| Historical Regions of Poland |
The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, or the First Republic,
was the joint-Polish and -Lithuanian kingdom that rose after the heights of the
domination of the Teutonic Knights.
These Germanic knights focused their attentions, when they were done in
the Holy Land, on the Prussian tribes that lived in Pomerania, Warmia, and
Lithuania along the coasts of the Baltic Sea.
The Prussians were not Christians and the Knights received a commission
from the Pope himself to convert the Baltic tribe.
In time, the Knights set up a large kingdom with the western
edge bordering the Holy Roman Empire (German States), then extending all along
the Baltic, controlling areas as far north and east as Estonia. During these times they did a lot of work
bringing in German and Dutch farmers to convert the river lowlands in these
areas (Oder, Vistula, Neman, etc.) into productive farmland. However, by the mid-16th Century,
the Knights were in decline and after the Battle of Grunwald (Tannenberg), were
defeated by united Polish and Lithuanian forces and lost the upper hand in the
area. The lands bordering the Baltic Sea
on the west side of the Vistula (centered at Danzig) became known as Royal
Prussia (later termed West Prussia after the 1770s). The term “Royal” was a nod to the fact that
this area was directly held by the King of Poland. Ducal Prussia (later known as East Prussia),
on the east side of the Vistula, was the remnant of the kingdom of the Teutonic
Knights which survived after Grunwald even though these Dukes afterwards owed
allegiance to the king in Poland.
Generally speaking, after Grunwald, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
was ruled by the King of Poland who usually set up his court in Warsaw.
The old city of Warsaw is a fascinating place even though all
the buildings have been rebuilt after being leveled during in WWII. The highpoint, for me, was the first view of
the Vistula River. This is the river
that my ancestors would have known. This
is the mother-river to me. This is the
river that caused the Mennonites to come to Poland, that sustained and tortured
them. This river would have been
absolutely central to their lives and here it was before me. “[T]he river is in all places at once, at its
source and where it flows into the sea, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the
rapids, in the ocean, in the mountains, everywhere at once, so for the river
there is only the present moment. This [river]
flowed and flowed, it was constantly flowing, and yet it was always there; it
was always eternally the same and yet new at every moment” (Herman Hesse,
Siddhartha).
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| Vistula River outside Warsaw, Poland |
The river was the reason the Mennonites were invited to come
to Royal Prussia. Its frequent flooding
caused the low-lying surrounding areas to be border-line uninhabitable. The Mennonites, through the employment of
dikes, ditches, and dams, as well as pumps and windmills, turned the whole
delta/valley area into productive farmland.
The Vistula sometimes flooded annually upon the Spring thaw. Upriver areas would thaw before downriver
areas. Therefore, water would rush
northwards where the river was still icebound.
With nowhere to go, the water would exceed the limits of the banks and
flood. Mennonites were able to manage
this in ways the locals couldn’t seem to do.
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| Vistula Delta region before and after the Mennonites. Note how much flooded land has been reclaimed. |
Lunch in Old Warsaw was at a pierogi restaurant at the north
corner of the Old City Market and then we took in a grueling Chopin
recital. I was already suffering from
jetlag and a hot and stuffy hotel room.
After walking most of the morning we then ate a large, heavy lunch. Without much time to digest, we were ushered
into a very intimate recital room and served champagne. As I sat, with a little touch of alcohol on
my tongue, I struggled mightily to stay awake.
Simultaneously, the Polish air conditioner struggled (fairly unsuccessfully)
to move a little of thick air. I could
actually feel the beads of sweat running down my back as I tried to keep my
eyes open. The uber-talented pianist
played beautifully and the pieces were absolutely sublime but the performance
would have been better served, for me, after a good nap somewhere in a cool
breeze. Chopin was brilliant but he’s no
match for a warm room and a poor night sleep!
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| Old City, Warsaw |
We were given a short break at
the hotel and then we again loaded up in the bus and went to a choral
performance by a Mennonite group in a beautiful old white, Lutheran
church. Again, the music and setting
were fantastic but the timing just unfortunate since I was so sleepy.
The next morning, I was up early and super-excited to leave
Warsaw and finally start seeing some historical Mennonite sites. We hit the road north out of Warsaw and soon
were approaching the former Masovian Mennonite settlement of Deutsch Kazun.
Kazun and neighboring Wymysle were two of the latest
Mennonite settlements in Poland. The
greater Mennonite settlements in Poland were begun in the mid-16th
Century while these two weren’t established until the 18th
Century. Generally speaking, the
ancestors of the Low German Mennonites in Poland came from the Lowlands on the
northwest coast of Europe beginning in the mid-16th Century. After the Reformation came the Radical
Reformation and a lot of Anabaptist activity began in the low countries,
including the regions known as Flanders, Friesland, Holland, Utrecht, Brabant, etc.
(regions where the Dutch language was widely spoken), as well as in
Switzerland, Moravia, and Bohemia. The
Low German-speaking Anabaptists of the Low Countries (in both these terms, the “Low”
here is an expression of elevation. The
Low countries were low lying areas in northwest Europe and many of the
residents spoke dialects of Low German – as opposed to the High German spoken
by those of the areas of higher elevation inland) very soon began to have
issues with the Catholic overlords and after wars broke out in the Lowlands around
1526, these Low German Anabaptists began to look for a safe place to move.
The lands in the northern areas of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth – namely Royal Prussia – were a perfect fit. First of all, the Commonwealth government had
adopted an early form of religious Liberty and this was very appealing to the Anabaptists
(who, during this time began to take the name Mennist or Mennonite, after their
leader Menno Simons) who were currently being heavily persecuted for their
religious beliefs by their Catholic overlords in the low countries. Furthermore, Royal Prussia was in
shambles. In earlier times under the
Teutonic Knights, the flooded areas of the Vistula delta and valley had been
converted into farmland. However,
following the wars between the Knights and the Poles in the 15th
Century, the area fell into neglect and much land was lost to the floods of the
river. The Poles by the 16th
Century realized that the farmers of the Lowlands, including the Mennonites,
held unique skills that could be put to work in Prussia. These people had already drained the
low-lying areas in Friesland and the Hollands, could they not do that in
Prussia too?
Further, there were economic and cultural ties which made a
move from the Lowlands to Royal Prussia feasible. Some West Prussian cities, such as Gdańsk (Danzig) and Elbląg (Elbing), already were close
trading partners with Dutch cities such as Amsterdam and Rotterdam. These partnerships had been developed in
centuries past during the period of the Hanseatic League, an alliance of
trading partners including many cities along the North and Baltic Seas. The Hansa Cities used as their practical
language a dialect of Low German and therefore Low German Mennonites coming
from, for instance, Harlem or Groningen or Dordrecht or Leyden, could move to Gdańsk
or Elbląg and be comfortable with the language.
Ships very commonly sailed back and forth from Rotterdam or Antwerp to Gdańsk
and Elbląg, themselves cities very much with a Dutch
flavor to their art and culture. (I
should point out here that the notion that Low German is only a spoken language
and not written, is simply myth. In
fact, to the contrary, Low German was written just as much as any other. There were many different dialects of Low
German. In the Lowlands, Dutch, as well
as dialects of Low German, were commonly spoken languages.
)
Mennonites started coming into Danzig during the first half
of the 16th Century and soon established themselves as able farmers. These Mennonites leased lands in the flooded
areas in the Vistula delta and valley.
After they were drained, these silt-covered areas proved to be extremely
productive farmland and some Mennonites did quite well farming here. Other Mennonites established themselves in
the larger towns as distillers or weavers or artisans or craftsmen. They were never altogether accepted in Polish
or Prussian society, since their religion was outside the norm of the local
Catholics or Lutherans, but they were tolerated since they added so much to the
economy. The almighty dollar – or złoty
– was in reality calling the shots.
In Gdańsk, Mennonites seemed to always be on the
defensive. Gdańsk was controlled by the
merchant guilds, themselves controlled by Lutherans. These guilds saw the Mennonites as economic
threats. However, the king and other
nobles (Catholics), who simply benefitted from strong economy, welcomed the
Mennonites. In the king’s eyes, the
Mennonites equated to more money in the royal coffers. The City of Elbląg was slightly different in
that it was not controlled by Lutheran guilds.
Mennonites generally had an easier go in Elbląg but this city wasn’t as
economically vibrant as was Gdańsk.
Deutsch Kazun was established in mid-18th Century
by Mennonites from further north up the Vistula valley. The building which formerly served as the
church in Deutsch Kazun is located on the south side
of the highway near Kazuń Nowy, the name by which the village is known
today. People are now using the building
as a house and I marveled at how they were actually living in the dilapidated
structure. After looking at the
building, we continued west from Kazuń and stopped at a resort in the middle of
the beautiful forest for a bathroom break.
The resort, the Hotel Kawallo (Leonów 7a, 09-533 Leonów, Poland), is a
fantastic new facility in the middle of the woods adjoining the historic Black Forest
(Czarna Woda) region. They offer
amenities such as bicycling or horse-back riding through the woods as well as
carriage rides and general activities aimed at wellness and good health. The surrounding forest was breathtaking as
the pines reached for the sky. The hotel
seemed to even have several aurochs in a pen behind the buildings which I found
very curious.
Early on during the morning of driving, I started noticing
the large stork nests on the peaks of houses and on telephone poles or street
lights. These were the same storks that
my ancestors wrote about in Volyn. They
were good luck in Volyn and I assumed they were likewise here in Poland. The huge storks sat in the nests and
occasionally one would stand at the crest of a roof just like a little man
(Over the next days we would see storks all over the areas where we
traveled.). I also noticed crews of
harvesters in strawberry fields along the highway. The tour guide indicated that these workers
were traveling crews coming from Ukraine to make a little extra money in the wealthier
country of Poland.
Soon we arrived in Deutsch Wymysle, today known as Nowe
Wymyśle, and I was excited to see the church building where Ratzlaffs from
Przechowka worshipped as late as the inter-war period. A Mennonite house also stood nearby and it
was really meaningful to see our first Mennonite architectural structures. I took special note of the metal fixtures on
the windows which were skillfully made so long ago by Mennonite craftsmen.
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| Wymysle Mennonite church building |
Wymysle, similar to Kazun, had been founded in the 18th
Century by Mennonites coming from farther north up the valley. The Mennonites, very early centered at Gdańsk
and Elbląg, began moving up the Vistula valley even by the mid-16th
Century. I should also point out that
there were, in the 16th Century, also Mennonites arriving in the
valley from the Swiss/Moravian communities of Anabaptists. By the late 16th Century,
Mennonites had established themselves all along the delta and valley, from Gdańsk
all the way south to Toruń (Thorn).
This whole area, along the banks of the river, was covered
with Mennonite farms; Mennonites who established 14 gemeinden
(communities, brotherhoods, or congregations).
The delta-area gemeinden included Danzig, Elbing, Barwalde,
Heubuden, Ladekop, Orlofferfelde, Rosenort, Tiegenhagen, and Thiensdorf, while
the valley-area gemeinden included Tragheimerweide, Montau, Schonsee, Przechowka,
and Obernessau. In typical Mennonite
fashion, there were theological and cultural issues upon which these gemeinden
could not agree and factions soon developed.
Actually, the factions originated in the Lowlands and carried over into Polish
Prussia and the factions actually carried names from their original locations:
the Flemish and the Frisians. It wasn’t
quite as simple a division as this but very generally speaking those two terms
cover it. The Flemish gemeinden
included Danzig, Elbing, Heubuden, Barwalde, Ladekop, Rosenort, Tiegenhagen,
and Przechowka. The Frisians included
Thiensdorf, Tragheimerweide, Montau, Schonsee, and Obernessau (that’s way too
oversimplified, but there it is). It
should be pointed out that, among all these, Przechowka was really an
outlier. Not to get caught in the weeds
with all the details but Przechowka was the only Grongingen Old Flemish gemeinde
in Polish Prussia AND it was probably the only one that had significant roots
with the Swiss/Moravian group (the other Flemish gemeinden were Flemish,
Old Flemish, or Danziger Old Flemish, but not Grongingen Old Flemish). I should also point out that two gemeinden
probably existed in Danzig from a very early time – one Flemish and one
Frisian. Also, before they were
separated, Barwalde, Ladekop, Rosenort, and Tiegenhagen all formed one
congregation: the Gross Werder Gemeinde.
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| Mennonite Gemeinden in 18th Century Poland |
The Flemish and Frisians differed in several important ways
but it’s also good to remember that these divisions became less and less
pronounced over time. The Flemish tended
to be more urban, more democratic, and stricter (in respect to theology). The Frisians were more rural, more
authoritarian, and more liberal (in respect to theology). Flemish tended to live closer to one another
so, for instance, all were involved in
gemeinde business. Frisians, living more spread out in the
countryside, their
gemeinden sometimes had to take action without
involving all the congregants. The
scriptures had never been translated into Low German so the Mennonites needed
to use versions of the Bible from other languages. The Flemish opted for Dutch while the
Frisians used High German. Generally
speaking, the Frisians were more prone to assimilation with local culture while
the Flemish, with their stricter theology, really tried to stick to their old
ways.
So, after all that explanation, I can finally say that
Wymysle was basically a daughter community to Przechowka – that is to say that
the congregants here aligned themselves with the faction of Mennonites known as
Groningen Old Flemish. And in
Low-German-Mennonite speak – all Grongingen Old Flemish in Prussia originate at
Przechowka. After Wymysle, we stopped
along the Vistula at an outdoor restaurant for lunch, the Gościniec Pod Żaglami
(87-815 Smólnik, Skoki Duże, Poland).
Another fantastic bowl of soup was had alongside a wonderful view of the
river. I called my Dad from here, along
the banks of the Vistula, to wish him a happy Father’s Day.
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| The Vistula River |
After lunch we were bound for the Toruń area where we’d stop
on the south side of the Vistula for a tour at the Olenderski Park
Etnograficzny at Mała Nieszawka. The
museum is actually located on Mennonite Street (Mennonitow Ulica) in the
small town and is directly adjacent to the Obernessau cemetery. Obernessau was the farthest south of the
original Mennonite valley gemeinden, having been established already as
early as perhaps even the first quarter of the 16th Century. Among others, the museum has reconstructions
of a Mennonite house from Niedźwiedź (Niedwitz, a village of the Przechowka Gemeinde)
and a servant’s house from Mątowskie Pastwiska (Montauerweide, a village of the
Tragheimerweide Gemeinde). I was
pleased to meet my friend Michał and he gave us a tour of the grounds. It’s an absolutely fantastic facility
including at least 6 Olędrzy structures (3 houses, 1 servant house, 1
barn, 1 granary) all salvaged from the surrounding countryside. Really top-notch stuff. It appeared that very little expense had been
spared in building these reconstructions and Michał was proud to point out that
everything had been rebuilt in the correct manner. Even craftsmen from the south of Poland were
brought in to build the thatch on the roofs correctly, as my ancestors would
have done it so long ago.
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| Obernessau Mennonite cemetery |
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| Mennonite Longhouse from Niedźwiedź |
Mennonites built their houses in the valley and delta (a
common German word for delta in old Mennonite and German records in Werder. In Polish, Werder is Żuławy. And no, that’s not pronounced “Zoo-La-Vee”
but rather “Zhoo-Wa-Vee”. The Polish
letter “Ł” or “ł”, looking similar to an English “L” or “l”, is actually
pronounced as an English “W”.) in the Dutch style, that is, the living
quarters, stable, and barn, were all under one roof. In Dutch this is known as a longhouse (Langhof). This is different to how the native Poles did
it. The Poles would have built three
different buildings for house, stable, and barn.
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| Wattle fencing with crane-type water well |
The typical Mennonite house in the early days would include
the house, with the big and small rooms (grosser und kleine Stube) and
kitchen (küche) on the ground floor. A
middle passageway, paved with bricks, separated the house from the stable
which, with a lower ceiling than the house, had stalls for horses and
cattle. At the end opposite the house
there was a barn used for storage of farm implements, etc. The second story of the house was maybe
bedroom living space and storage, with hay storage above the stable. The upper areas of the barn might be open but
above the house portion of the structure even a third story rose for additional
storage. An oven stood in the kitchen and
the chimney then rose through the upper levels of the home, providing heat
throughout. In the upper reaches of the
oven a meat-smoking compartment was commonly found (In fact, Mennonite smoked
hams were so desirable that they were oftentimes included in the taxes the
Mennonites were required to pay). This
entire structure was situated on top of a small, man-made berm. In the event of flooding, the house in this
way was kept above the level of the water.
The yard was commonly fenced off with wattle fencing. Mennonites commonly incorporated willow trees
into their water-management programs (willows require a lot of water) so there
was an abundance of pliable willow branches with which to make wattle fences.
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| Inside of thatched roof |
As time went on, the Mennonites became more and more
prosperous along the Vistula and large arcades began to be added to these
houses. The room above the arcade was a
nice, cool area on summer afternoons.
Mennonites typically stained the exterior of the houses; it was
desirable for the living quarters to be wooden while stables and barns were
brick. Red color was not allowed (as
this was for Polish nobility only) but Mennonites typically used blues and
greens. Indeed, a particular shade of
blue was even commonly known as “Mennonite Blue”. White was avoided as this drew flies. Several examples of these huge arcaded homes
from the late 17th Century still stand here and there throughout the
Vistula Valley and Delta. All during the
Mennonite period in Poland (roughly from 1550), many Mennonites were as rich as
Polish nobility and they lived very different lives to the average work-a-day
Polish peasants who were oftentimes tied to the land as serfs.
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| Drawing to show how Arcade was added to typical Mennonite Longhouse |
While the Mennonites generally prospered, a considerable
chunk of their wealth had to go towards 1) maintenance of dikes and other
anti-flood related measures, and 2) bribes to local officials who didn’t like
Mennonite presence in the area. Let’s
face it, Mennonites were second-class citizens in this area and were simply
tolerated by the locals. Oftentimes, local
authorities would get it into their heads that the Mennonites needed to go
away. As a result, Mennonites were
constantly fighting for their rights all along the delta and valley and many
times they needed to “persuade” authorities of these rights. We could use any number of different terms
but what it oftentimes came down to, in the end, was that the Mennonites simply
bribed authorities and were able to retain their rights. If they wouldn’t have had to do this again
and again, they probably would have been able to amass a lot more wealth.
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| Mennonite arcaded house at the Olenderski Park |
It was at the Olenderski Park facility where I began to form
an understanding of how much the current Polish regime, as well as the Polish
people in general, appear to value the contributions made to their culture by
the Mennonites (as well as other Olędrzy). For instance, this new, large, very nice
facility was all funded by the government.
And honestly, I didn’t understand how it was staying in business since
there were very few patrons there. The
museum is located on Ulica Mennonitow (Mennonite Street) and just
several blocks away to the east is another big, new facility called Olender Sports
and Recreation Center, a sports and hotel complex, its name a nod to Mennonite
culture.
And now we have to take another detour to define the term
that’s popping up quite a lot –
Olender (also expressed as
Olędrzy
or in English, Hollander). Generally
speaking, this was/is the Polish term for people who originated in the Lowlands
(and the Lowlands always collectively seem to be lumped together as Holland
even though that’s really a misleading way to term it). The
Olędrzy in Poland were people who
came from the Lowlands and were settled upon farmlands by their landlords
according to Dutch Law (as opposed to German Law or Chełmno [Kulm] Law). The characteristics of Dutch Law included
that the lease was executed involving a group of villagers instead of just an
individual (all-for-one-and-one-for-all style), the villagers were usually farmers
and a stipulation of the contract was that they were allowed to establish their
own churches, schools, and village government.
Almost exclusively, Dutch Law villages (
Olędrzy villages) were
protestant. In the very early days,
Olędrzy
villages were also probably filled with ethnic Dutch folks but that ethnic part
of the definition fell away in time (said another way, in time, people in a
Hollander village were not necessarily from Holland). To make it more confusing, we have to say
that Mennonites were considered
Olędrzy but not all
Olędrzy were
Mennonite (for instance, there were also Lutheran
Olędrzy). To sum up the confusion then, not all
Olędrzy
were Dutch, and all Mennonites were also not Dutch, but all Mennonites (in
Prussian Poland) were
Olędrzy.
Got it?
After the museum, we had a short stop at the surviving Obernessau
Mennonite church (built 1890; Toruńska 184, 87-103 Mała Nieszawka, Poland) and
it was actually a very touching moment as we all came inside the church (today
the building hosts a Catholic congregation) and sat in the old pews. Finally, after this church visit, we boarded
the bus and headed towards our hotel in Toruń; the Gotyk Hotel on Piekary Street. After installing ourselves in our hotel, I
had maybe 30 minutes to walk around the beautiful old city, and then we met for
dinner, walking to the restaurant at the Spichrz Hotel.
 |
| Obernessau Mennonite Church |
More fantastic soup and good conversation
was had with Michał who came to join us.
Afterwards I had just a little time to walk in the old city and then off
to bed. Tomorrow (Monday, 17 June) would
be a huge day for me.
