Polska w żałobie

Five days ago, the Polish President and First Lady, along with many members of the cabinet and top administration, were killed in a plane crash in Smolensk. Sadly enough, they were on their way to Katyn to pay tribute to Polish officers massacred there in WWII. I’ve observed a city and nation in mourning all week, but oddly enough, it’s just sunk in tonight.

I left home a little after 19:30 on the way to a class. I noticed a huge group of people on the bridge at Plac Na Rozdrożu. Curious, I walked over to see what was going on. I noticed several police cars on the road below, a TV crew at each side of the bridge, and more people standing at the bus stop below. Over the next 15 minutes, even more people arrived until all the bridges, the sidewalks leading to Zamek Ujazdowskie, the hillsides, and the sidewalks were packed.

It had been a crazy day full of errands and meetings, so I hadn’t had a chance to check the news today. I had no idea what I’d see, I only knew it was something huge. I saw several priests and nuns, gave directions to one, and saw a TV Religia car.

Around 19:45, all traffic ceased and a group of police cars drove down the road, lights flashing, followed by a couple other cars and motorcycles. Then it began.

The long, seemingly neverending stream of hearses. One after another. Wide, sleek black cars lined inside with white satin, each carrying a single white coffin. Polish flags with narrow black strips of cloth attached flew from the cars. The crowd watched intently, sadly, in disbelief; I saw camera flashes and heard sniffles all around. There were so many hearses, heading toward the river in a single line which ended with more police vehicles.

The atmosphere in Warsaw this week has felt thick and muted, a tangible gloom tainted with uncertainty. The white and red national flag and the yellow and red Warsaw flag hang everywhere, small but constant symbols of solidarity. But even after five days of walking through a town weighed down with a funereal air, seeing throngs of mourners in the streets, candles in jars, piles of flowers, newspapers with dire headlines and black ribbons... I still hadn’t quite internalized it all, until tonight. A nation should *not* have to bury its entire leadership all at once. It’s just too much.

I really don’t know what to say; I’m not Polish by heritage, so I have no personal connection to the tragedy. But I’ve lived here for over a year now, and despite frequent arguments with the washer and the challenges presented by the language, I’ve grown attached to this country and the people I’ve met here. I can only express to them my deepest and sincerest condolences in this unbelievable time of upheaval. I know things like this happen all across the world, all the time. But this year, what I wish for most, is for Poland to know peace and comfort- it has more than earned it.