December 1980
– And this patient after appendix surgery asks me if I can get her Biseptol. – Bożenka grabbed the plastic handle of the kettle, which had just started squeaking, and slowly, so as not to break the thin glass, she began to pour water into glasses with popular bags lying at the bottom. – I tell her that it is not used after surgery, that she already receives antibiotics, and she tells me that it is not for her and that she needs more.
The woman interrupted her story, put down the kettle and, wanting to create the right atmosphere, looked seriously at her colleagues gathered in the common kitchen of the nursing hotel. Only Basia knew the ending of this story, because Bożenka told her and Marylka a strange conversation with the patient in the nurses’ station. Edytka probably also guessed what would happen next, but Zbyszek Rolski, a rehabilitator from the neurosurgery department, leaning on the door frame was clearly intrigued. He was giving Bożenka urgent glances as he passed from hand to hand a new copy of “Free Trade Unionist”, the bulletin of the trade unions of Huta Katowice.
– Come on, dear child! – he said, rolling his eyes. – Why did she need these drugs? I haven’t heard of anyone trying to commit suicide while taking Biseptol.
Bożenka smiled, pleased with the effect she had achieved.
– This woman, the patient, I mean, works for the Polish State Railways and often goes to Romania. Any amount of Biseptol can be sold there. Romanian women believe that it is a contraceptive, and in their country all of them are prohibited.
– Dear God, how are they doing? – Edith sighed, clearly concerned about the fate of women from her brotherly nation, and then gently, so as not to burn her fingers, she pushed the glass with steaming tea across the table. “I’ve heard about that too,” she admitted, trying to lift her glass. – Only those who have already given birth to four children or are over forty have access to abortion and the pill.
– And our people, as I know life, confirm their belief that Biseptol works. – Zbyszek scratched his thick beard that he had grown about a year ago. He explained that it was the easiest way not to feel the lack of razor blades. – Well, you know, when you spend a fortune on Romanian travels, you want to get at least some return. This is what a system in which everyone has the same amount of money leads to, and whoever wants more has to do something.
For a moment there was silence in the cluttered hotel kitchen, disturbed only by Edytka, who was slurping loudly, burning her mouth. Basia was depressed by the thought of Romanian women being lied to and the heartless law ordering them to give birth to unwanted children. She looked at her friends. They were now sitting in front of a window covered with an openwork curtain, yellowed by cigarette smoke. Someone placed postcards with Christmas wishes on the windowsill, the only symbol of the coming Christmas.
– It’s good, my dear, that the law is different here. They can raise prices and unleash ZOMO on protesters, but they will not prohibit us from certain pleasures – Zbyszek suddenly laughed, and Basia immediately lowered her head, suddenly very interested in some dust stuck to her skirt.
Every time someone mentioned ZOMO or MO in her company, she felt as if she was being attacked. She was tensing up, waiting for more unpleasant comments to come. Even seemingly innocent jokes made her uncomfortable. Although Albert, as a forensic technician at the Provincial Headquarters of the Citizens’ Militia, most often went to work in plain clothes, there were days when he had to appear at the headquarters in full uniform. The neighbors he passed greeted him politely, but less friendly thoughts could also be seen on their faces. The militia’s reputation was getting worse every year. At the same time, people were afraid of the uniformed officers and joked with them. It was not for nothing that it was said that Poland was the happiest barracks in the camp. Everything could be mocked and ridiculed here. Gray times were embellished in every way, and newer jokes about policemen appeared like mushrooms after rain. Basia often laughed at them, especially when the company did not know what her husband did on a daily basis. After the experiences of the 1970s, she was reluctant to admit it.
These secrets tormented her. She felt that she should be proud of her husband, who very quickly, partly by accident and partly thanks to his passion for photography, became a police technician. At home, when they were out of the judgmental eyes of others, she liked him to tell her about the calls he went to, although sometimes the stories about injuries to victims of accidents or crimes were shocking. She knew that Albert had only joined the militia for good reasons, he really believed in the mission, he believed that citizens should be protected from criminals. What’s left of it? Albert stopped being an idealist a long time ago.
Rolski quickly realized that he had made a blunder and smiled apologetically at the worried Basia. For a moment he looked at her neck and shoulders, as if he saw more than just the thick brown turtleneck and the scarf that she still wrapped around her neck, because she didn’t come to Bożenka for long. In fact, she wasn’t even supposed to drink the tea. The jar of honey that was supposed to be a Christmas gift for Albert was already waiting in her purse. Marylka had long since left, and she stayed, even though there was a lot of work waiting for her at home two days before Christmas Eve. She put the barely alive carps into an enameled bowl and sat down in the kitchen, where Zbyszek also appeared and ordered honey from Bożenka. That was enough for her to change her afternoon plans.
– Poles are different – Rolski continued, taking his eyes off Uniszewska and lifting the bulletin slightly. – We do not remain silent when harm is done to us. We do not allow ourselves to be deceived and manipulated.
All three women instinctively glanced at the newspaper Rolski was holding. On the first page there was printed a reminder of the report about the tragic events of December ’70. Basia remembered those days well. The world then saw photos of Polish flags smeared with blood and a dead young boy carried on a door torn off its hinges. It was during that pre-Christmas time that Uniszewska first felt the hostile stares of her neighbors on her back. Colleagues also began to interrupt discussions as soon as she entered the office. It terrified her. She was too outgoing to be rejected. So many years have passed since those events, she changed both her place of residence and her job, but whenever the storm in the country grew stronger, she felt that in the eyes of many she was on the wrong side.
“The authorities learned a lesson then. You can’t silence Poles by force. You have to talk and negotiate, you have to activate society. And that’s exactly what Solidarity is doing. With this new energy we will change our country,” Rolski repeated many times to encourage his colleagues to join unions. and Basia, although she doubted that any visible changes were possible, liked looking into his passionate eyes.
When Basia and Zbyszek left the hotel together an hour later and, despite the net with half-dead fish and heavy jars, were walking towards the hospital parking lot, Basia thought, not for the first time, that she was in no hurry to get home. Walking next to her friend, she didn’t have to wonder whether any of the passersby would recognize him as a policeman and cast a critical glance at them. She could even ignore a passing Nysa, without fear that the police would stop next to them, not to identify themselves, but to greet them warmly.
Zbyszek, regardless of her thoughtfulness, talked with enthusiasm about the course of the hospital Solidarity meeting that had taken place a few days earlier, about the written arrangements and demands, and about his strong belief in the rightness of the cause. Uniszewska felt light, she walked alongside without any weight on her shoulders, without the sense of discomfort she often experienced while walking around the city with her husband.
– Baśka, hello?
Suddenly she realized that they were already standing next to the car and Zbyszek was asking her something, probably once. He seemed amused by her absent-mindedness.
– Are you at my place on New Year’s Eve? I hope you haven’t changed your plans.
He used the plural, but she was sure he was only asking about her, only her presence interested him.
“Yes, we will,” she replied, overwhelmed by the satisfaction she felt. “Albert got some time off,” she added too enthusiastically, and then, without looking at Rolski, she opened the door of the Trabant. She knew that even if she tried to convince Zbyszek that there was a bus coming soon, he would still insist on giving her a ride home. If it weren’t for the carp, I would have refused the ride, she told herself as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Artificial honey – cover WAB promotional materials
Source: Gazeta
Bruce is a talented author and journalist with a passion for entertainment . He currently works as a writer at the 247 News Agency, where he has established himself as a respected voice in the industry.
