Some of the Polish children who arrived in New Zealand as refugees during WWII, with Red Cross nurses, in 1944. Photo: Archives-of-New-Zealand-Red-Cross
Eighty years ago, 733 shaven-headed Polish refugee children and just over 100 caregivers arrived in New Zealand by ship, facing an uncertain future.
But they were welcomed with open arms - in Pahīatua.
Now the Tararua town is getting ready to mark eight decades of friendship, by welcoming back about 20 surviving former refugees, and hundreds of descendants.
Joe Jagiello made the journey in 1944. He remembers sailing into Wellington Harbour as a 9-year-old in late October that year, after a couple of years in Persia - modern day Iran.
Józef (Joe) Jagiello anglicised his first name, as many of the Polish children did. Photo: Supplied
It was more than four years since his family were forcibly evicted by Soviets from their home in eastern Poland, in what is now Ukraine, and he arrived in New Zealand without any relatives. His father, Franciszek. remained in Persia.
"We thought, 'What a lovely country.' After being in Iran - everything was so dreary and dry in those days - there was hardly any colour. We came to New Zealand and everything's nice and green.
"The biggest thing was the colour. I remember coming into the harbour and we all looked at the beautiful little houses all stuck up on the hillside.
"It was really lovely. We thought we were in paradise."
Some of the children arriving in Wellington. Photo:
From Wellington, they were put on trains, heading north.
People lined the route to welcome the new arrivals and when the trains stopped in Palmerston North, children clambered aboard and gave the Polish children fruit and ice creams.
Some of the crowd, greeting the Polish refugees on their train journey to Pahīatua from Wellington. Photo: John Pascoe, courtesy Alexander Turnbull Library
The Manawatū Times newspaper reported deafening cheers as the trains drew into the platform.
The paper also noted the "remarkable fact" that ice creams were new to the Polish children, "some of whom had to be tempted before they would taste this strange food".
Jagiello remembers being passed an apple and feeling unsure about what to do with it. The children weren't used to plentiful supplies of food, and many hadn't even used knives or forks before.
After Palmerston North they headed to Pahīatua. A camp at the town's racecourse had recently held prisoners of war, but was now home.
"When we turned up all the adults started performing, 'What's going on? Why are we being locked up in a prison?'
"It had towers and big drains. It was a proper prison. In any case, it was explained to us that they're going to pull [the towers and fences] all down and they'll never close the gate."
They had classes for half a day, in Polish, and chores as well. Otherwise the children embraced their freedom, exploring the countryside around the camp.
Staying in New Zealand
When World War II was over, the Polish government wanted the children home, but New Zealand ruled they should stay until they were old enough to decide themselves. Jagiello said he was grateful for this.
The world was chaotic, after years of conflict. As many refugees did, Jagiello contacted the Red Cross for help finding his father and waited patiently for news, but none arrived.
Other children were reunited with their families and they gradually left the Pahīatua camp, but Jagiello remained, one of the final 15 there.
There was another big change. Lessons were now in English.
"We went to Mangatainoka School and at the school the people were lovely to us," Jagiello said.
"All the children invited us [home] for weekends. On the weekends we would have to go to different places, stay and enjoy the New Zealand hospitality. I think that improved our English a lot."
The Polish children picked up rugby, and later Jagiello played a game for Taranaki.
He headed there after leaving the camp, studying at Hawera High School while living in an orphanage, before leaving the classroom to work in a farm when he was 15.
It was the start of a varied working life that took him around the North Island. A successful business importing jewellery allowed Jagiello to invest in property, and he and wife Joy only sold their last investment flats a few years ago.
It was also thanks to Joy that Jagiello finally, a couple of decades ago, found out what happened to his father.
Joy spotted an address in a book in Auckland Museum for people to write to, seeking information about the Polish Free Army. Jagiello did this and found his dad had died in Italy. He was also reunited with a small bag of Franciszek's belongings.
The family's life had been upended when Jagiello was 4, and they, along with many compatriots, were driven from their homes.
"They loaded us up in blimmin' trains and took us out to Siberia into labour camps."
Jagiello can't remember much from the journey, but has learned it took about six weeks, in conditions impossible to imagine.
"About 2 million Poles got shifted from the eastern side of Poland. In the two years we were there, half the population died.
"I lost my mum and my grandma there."
After Germany invaded the Soviet Union and the Soviets were on the same side as Poland in the war, the refugees headed to Persia, which appealed for other countries to take them in.
Town marks special bond
Nothing remains of the Pahīatua campsite today, a couple of kilometres out of the town, although a commemorative plaque near the site is a reminder of its history.
The racecourse surrounding the camp is no more, and there's an aerodrome where hundreds of Polish children once eat, slept and played.
At the Pahīatua museum a room is dedicated to the story, and it features a model of what the camp looked like.
Museum president Gilda McKnight, one of the organisers for the 80th anniversary commemorations, said it was a special place.
"It was known as Little Poland at the time, and the children just loved their time here. It was home for them," McKnight said.
"The children had lots of freedom. They finally came to a place that was safe for them."
Gilda McKnight in the Pahīatua Museum's room that tells the story of the Polish children. Photo: RNZ/ Jimmy Ellingham
It's a tale at the heart of the town.
"The older people have passed down the story to the younger people, to the next generations. But now our younger people, our school children, are really embracing the story," she said.
"They feel very emotional about the story, about these children having suffered what they went through."
McKnight's husband Andrew said the former refugees and their families were in for quite a welcome on 1 November, ahead of two days of activities.
"We're going to meet at the railway station and then they're being escorted into town by the local police and the fire brigade.
"They're going to drive the same route that they went to the camp [in 1944], before turning down one of the streets to come back along both sides of the main street. The business owners are all decorating their shops."
Just like in 1944, local schoolchildren will line the route waving, but this time they're saying "welcome home" to the surviving Polish children of 80 years ago, in what promises to be emotional scenes.
Jagiello lives in Waiuku now. He can't make it to Pahīatua next weekend, although the town would always occupy a special place in his soul.
Józef (Joe) Jagiello wrote a book about his life in 2005. Photo: Supplied
"It's my original home. I get very nostalgic about it. We've passed through there a few times on holiday, but unfortunately, this time I can't go. My health's not good enough."
In his autobiography, One Man's Odyssey, Jagiello writes movingly about his Polish "brothers and sisters".
"The close bond that we orphans shared in those years has never weakened. We shared a strange, terrible and wonderful time together, and whenever we meet up with each other the feelings are still the same."
It will be no different in Pahīatua next weekend.
