Fifteen years in a childhood paradise

"Yes. It misses its mother." We left the calf standing there, giving off a pathetic bleat. Then we walked through the main gate.

"This is locked during the night, so no strangers can come in. That completes our tour through the yard. Can you see the pump there on the outside wall?"

Helmut nodded. "That is our village pump. The whole village comes here to fetch water. They don't have running water in their homes, of course. When you lift the handle it usually makes a squeaky noise, like this."

I pumped, and sure enough there was the squeak, and beautifully clear water came through the spout.

"The water from this well is the best drinking water in the whole district. Even from Strykowo they come with big milk-cans to fetch drinking water from our pump. Inside the house we have a motor pump, which pumps water about twice a day into a large water container under the roof. This gives enough pressure to have running water everywhere, but the water is not the same quality. Our girls still come here to get the drinking water. Before we had the electric pump, a man came once a day from the village to pump with a hand pump till the tank was full."

"That sure beats carting or carrying it from here." From the corner of the cowshed I showed Helmut the village street. There were about eight to ten houses which belonged to our estate, where our workers lived. They had all been built after the first World War and were in good condition, each housing at least two families. The total workforce on the farm was more than 100, counting the women who did the milking and helped with harvesting on a part-time basis. Beyond our buildings stretched the village with about twenty peasants with their modest homes and farmyards. The village school was also in that area.

"Gee, it's getting dark. Let's go home. Supper should be on soon. Tomorrow I'll show you the garden. That's also quite interesting."

"Sehr gut," said Helmut, as we washed our hands for supper. The maid brought in two steaming platters, one with mashed potatoes, one with fried eggs. After that we had bread with salami and cheese, which had been nicely arranged by the cook. To finish off we were served with stewed fruit and starch custard.

"The starch for this custard came from our starch factory, Helmut. I think that's the best way to use starch, but it is also used in the proper custard powders, starch for washing and in many other food products."

Our family loved it, but I was not too sure whether Helmut did, as it didn't taste the same as shop custard.

The next day was one of those brilliant autumn days which we were blessed to have in Poland quite frequently. After breakfast Helmut and I roamed around the park.

"You were going to show me your garden," said Helmut.

47