All Souls’ Day, video Full HD, 3'37''
Along the main road in Koniaczów leading toward Bełżec, until quite recently there stood an old wooden house overgrown with grapevines. My grandmother, Bronisława Maciałek (1923–2006), once lived there. The house was built by her father, Michał, in 1921. At the time of her birth, the village was inhabited predominantly by Ukrainian residents, like other neighboring localities in the Nadsiannia region. A short distance from this wooden house stood another, similar one, inhabited by a Ukrainian family, of which no trace remains today. We know that they were forcibly displaced during Operation Vistula.
The two buildings stood so close to each other that when one of them was on fire, the other was being doused with water to prevent it from catching alight. A holy image was affixed to the exterior wall of the house that was meant to survive, and prayers were recited.
My grandmother’s house was neither burned nor marked with the letter “W” [for wyjeżdża—“leaving,” author’s note], because it was inhabited by a family categorized as Polish. In the 101st year of its existence, I open the moldy door, revealing cobwebs. Above the door, chalk-written, are the letters: K+M+B 2006. This was the last time anyone lived here—the year my grandmother died.
For years, the wooden house, uninhabited and unheated, had been gradually falling into ruin, turned into a storage space. The roof was collapsing, black stains of mold appeared on the walls, and rain poured inside through leaky windows. For the last time, fresh air entered the interior. Through the act of cleaning, we pay tribute to the spirit of the house—a place that made space for love, served as shelter for people and animals, and allowed life to endure through the war.
After removing the rubbish from the house—pieces of Styrofoam, old carpets, and metal elements—we begin sweeping and vacuuming. I wash the windows, wipe down all surfaces and floors. In the kitchen, the tiles are blue; both rooms are painted in shades of yellow. Old sacred images, illuminated by colored light bulbs, hang on the walls. I take them with me, already knowing that the house is soon to be dismantled.
The sun slowly breaks through the clouds. It is November 2—All Souls’ Day. My father enters the house and tastes the ripe grapes hanging from the roof. We decide to light the old tiled stove. After a prolonged struggle with a leaky chimney, a faint plume of smoke appears above the roof for the last time. The house was dismantled in February 2025. The video All Souls’ Day documents the action of its final cleaning.
Camera: Anna i Paweł Okramus
Editing: Rafał Kruszka
