Audiobook — the first chapters are recorded
The book is read by the author. The first chapters are already available in the Audiobook section.
The story of a family rooted in one village for over a hundred years — from the return from America to the birth of the grandchildren. Explore the archive and join the family community that keeps on building it.
Huta Głodowska — a small village in the Dobrzyń Land, one of the thirty-six villages of the Lipno commune. For centuries children were born here, families worked, joys and sorrows were lived through. It was here that the Kępiński family spent their whole lives — and it is from here that our story comes.
The name "Huta" (ironworks) itself hides a deep history. In the 17th century, when German settlers came to the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, they set up places among the Polish forests for smelting metal and glass. The forest gave firewood, the sandy ground supplied quartz, and the ore was taken from bog iron. That is how Huta Głodowska came to be — beside a lush forest, on the edge of the Dobrzyń Land.
In 1827 the village had only 8 houses and 83 inhabitants. By 1939 — just before the outbreak of the Second World War — 241 people lived here. The village was full of life: over the decades more families arrived, more homesteads were built, and the inhabitants formed a true community.
Franciszek Kępiński, son of Józef and Franciszka née Marcinkowska, was born in 1889 in Mysłakowo. The year 1911 changed the fate of the whole family: Franciszek sailed to the United States, leaving his wife Waleria at home — pregnant at the time.
In America he came to his wife's sisters — three of them already lived across the ocean. When Waleria learned that her husband was "looking at other women", she decided to cross the ocean herself, disregarding the fact that she was a young woman with a small child. Their stay in the States together lasted ten years. In America Waleria gave birth to four children: Stasiek, Stasia, Helena and Henio.
In 1921, on the way back to Poland, tragedy did not spare the family — the youngest, Henio, fell ill and died. After returning to the country, with the dollars they had earned, they decided to buy a farm of their own.
Fearing thieves, they decided to buy the farm of their dreams as quickly as possible. They chose to buy in winter, when snow lay on the fields — and one could not really judge what the land looked like.
Family memoriesOn 16 January 1922, at the notarial office of Józef Mańkowski in Lipno, Franciszek and Waleria Kępiński bought a farm of nearly 16 hectares. The price: 3 million 150 thousand marks — the currency of a time when the Polish złoty did not yet exist.
When Germany attacked Poland, a new "owner" came to the farm of Waleria and Franciszek Kępiński. He declared that from that day everything on the farm became his property. For Franciszek it was a shock that deepened his asthma.
One of the neighbours — and about 50% of the village were Germans at that time — accused Franciszek of belonging to an armed organisation and of keeping undeclared weapons. The Germans dragged the sick man out of his bed (in December!) and led him to a meadow, where they beat him so badly that his whole body was black and blue.
Sixteen-year-old Janek saw it all. He wanted to take the rifle hidden in the old willow and kill the tormentors — he was stopped by the knowledge that it could mean the deportation of the entire family to a concentration camp.
Before his death Franciszek gave his son Janek a gold ring with the monogram K.F., which he had worn for years after returning from America. Jan wore that ring for decades.
Based on the commission's report of 9 July 1945
Running a farm in the first years after the war was not easy. The soil was poor, the meadows waterlogged, and until 1963 there was no electricity in Huta Głodowska. Even so the family managed — with fortitude and hard work.
The farm kept two or three cows. The milk was separated in a special centrifuge, and once a week butter was churned from the cream. Mother carried the butter to the market in Lipno — seven kilometres on foot, a basket on her arm.
There were always two beautiful black horses with gleaming leather harness. The old family carriage, its seats upholstered in burgundy velour, served for weddings, church fairs and trips to town. It has survived to this day.
Potatoes were dug with a hoe — about a hectare was planted, so the harvest took two weeks. In spring and autumn water flooded the fields. I remember helping to pull rotten tubers out of the mud — father and mother worked from dawn.
For the first years after the war the village had no power. Paraffin lamps gave light, water was carried from the well in buckets, laundry was boiled in a great cauldron over wood. Every machine was driven by human or horse power.
Bread was baked in our own oven — a large round loaf that lasted a whole week. For breakfast, before going out to the fields, we cooked zacierki (dough drop soup) — because there always had to be something to spread on the bread. "And of course it had to be baked first."
The coal stove was fired with wood and peat. The peat was dug from the nearby bogs — father cut it himself and I dried it in little heaps. The winters could be very harsh; we slept under a thick eiderdown in an unheated bedroom.
In the 1950s whole generations of young families lived in Huta Głodowska. Without electricity, without television — social life rested on neighbourhood, mutual visits and shared prayer.
On every Sunday of Lent the Lenten lamentations (gorzkie żale) were sung in one family's house after another. By the light of a paraffin lamp the Kępiński, Maciejewski, Zaborowski and Pokrywiński families sat together — and each housewife prepared doughnuts, pancakes or yeast cake.
For carnival, "whip-round balls" were organised — in someone's house, to an accordion and a drum, people danced into the small hours. A chocolate waltz played at midnight, orangeade in bottles, doughnuts baked by the hundred — that was the village carnival.
The way home from the New Year's Eve dance in Czarne led through the forest. I prepared a paraffin lantern for my parents. When the fire sirens sounded at midnight, I went out in front of the house — I wanted at least to hear them.
Wiesław Kępiński, memoriesEach generation left something behind — children, houses, values, memories. From Franciszek and Waleria, who crossed the ocean and bought a piece of Polish soil, to the grandchildren who today carry the names of their ancestors.
The grandchildren — this story is for them
The family story told in many ways — to read, to watch and to listen to.
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Photographs and documents from over a hundred years — from America to the present day.
Generations of the family since 1796, reconstructed from archives, registers and gravestones.
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The book is read by the author. The first chapters are already available in the Audiobook section.
In this part of Huta there is no longer a real farmer. I write about the old life because today's more and more often means empty houses.
The same carriage in which my parents rode to their wedding in 1948 stands in the barn today. The seats are still upholstered in burgundy velour.
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