It is also traditionally the most religiously diverse area in Poland. Historically, Bialystok was a Jewish city, with a large majority of the residence belonging to that faith. However, the Second World War ultimately wiped out the Jewish population. Due to its proximity to the Belorussian border, there is a very large Eastern Orthodox presence in Bialystok and in the eastern countryside, where in some villages the cerkiew (Orthodox Church) is larger and more dominant than the local Catholic church. An even more interesting phenomenon is the existence of Tatar Muslims that were granted land in these parts by King Jan Sobieski for their service in the Battle of Vienna. They have settled and lived here for centuries, celebrating their traditions and sharing them with the rest of the country.
This weekend, while visiting my family in Bialystok, we had the good fortune to make the trip to Kruszynianki, one of these Tatar villages with my Uncle Marek and Aunt Iza. It has a heritage designated mosque along with a Muslim Tatar Cemetery, a cultural centre, and a tavern serving traditional fare. We started with a tour and history lesson from Mr. Dzemil in the mosque. It does look quite strange for a Muslim place of Worship but none of the local builders knew what it was supposed to look like and that is why it turned out looking more like a mix between a church and a cerkiew with the only real indicator of its alternate religious affiliation being that of the crescent moons on the top of the spires. Next we walked to the cemetery where they bury Tatars from all over the country since this is the last place where they can be laid to rest. The headstones have the names and dates written in both Arabic and Polish on the back while a smaller rock is placed at their feet. It was interesting to hear the Polish versions of their Arabic names, with the most memorable being Moustafa= Stefan. They were also given Polish surnames that you see repeating on the tombstones throughout the cemetery.
We were really cold at this point so the warmth of the tavern was like a big hug. We all ordered soups to start while looking at the menu descriptions. B ordered a Pierekaczewnik, something like a phyllo rolled meat pie and a czeburek, a large fried pierogi. I ordered the Tatar version of a lasagna, where egg noodles were layered with turkey meat and baked with a sweet pepper sauce. For dessert we tried sweet, steamed dumplings that look super similar to what you would see when getting dimsum, but instead of meat, they were filled with a sweet white cheese and had cream and an incredible raspberry sauce poured over it. We basically rolled out of this establishment and into my grandparent's house where all we did was eat more.
It was a painful night.
The next morning we got up to a breakfast of pork knuckle for B and Cinnamon Toast Crunch for me. We celebrated the first Sunday of Advent at the Sanctuary of Divine Mercy in the company of my Aunt Krysia. The intention of the mass was for the repose of my deceased Grandma Stefania and that of my ailing little niece and her mummy. I am quite the traditionalist when it comes to churches and I most appreciate the ones built in the Renaissance or Baroque style, however this modern church had a beautiful serenity about it, despite being full to the brim with the faithful.
Mass was followed by Sunday family dinner where all my Hodun cousins and their families came together at my aunt's apartment. Smiles were exchanged, stories were told, and a lot of food was consumed. I hope that one day my sisters and I will have a chance to do Sunday dinners like this at my parents' house, where the family comes together to recollect, to debate, complain, but most of all to share in each other's lives.
With a care package filled with cake, we moved on to our last stop of the Bialystok journey, the flat belonging to Uncle Jacek and his wife Aunt Marta. Due to the fact that they are actually not that much older than us, we drop the formal titles and are just friends. Their sons, Adam and Damian, are two very vivacious boys that are well on their way to becoming excellent men.
On the bus back home, we were both suffering thanks to overeating but deemed the trip a successful one, full of great cultural insights, family time, and well…food.