In such families, and even in less extreme cases, it is evident that
the cash needed for the emigration of the whole family is difficult to
secure. It often happens, therefore, that the family does not emigrate
as a group, but one member--usually the man--goes ahead, and sends for
the rest as soon as he has earned enough to pay their passage. It is
then some time, usually from two to four years and occasionally
longer, before he is able to send for his family.
One Ukrainian man interviewed in this study came in 1906, leaving his
wife and four children in the old country. He had difficulty in
finding work he could do, wandered from place to place, never staying
long in one place, and it was eight years before he had saved enough
to send for his family. Another man, a Slovenian, came in 1904, and
was here seven years before he sent his wife money enough so she could
follow him.
Separations of this kind are often destructive of the old family
relationships. What they mean in suffering to the wife left behind has
been revealed by some of the letters of husbands and wives in a
collection of letters in _The Polish Peasant_,[1] especially in the
Borkowski series. These are letters written by Teofila Borkowski in
Warsaw, to her husband, Wladek Borkowski, in America, between the
years 1893 and 1912. During the early years the letters usually
thanked him for a gift of money and referred to the time when she
should join him in America. "I shall now count the days and weeks. May
our Lord God grant it to happen as soon as possible, for I am terribly
worried," she wrote in 1894.
As time goes on the intervals between the gifts grew longer, and she
writes imploring him to send money if he is able, as she is in
desperate need of it. In 1896 she had been ill and in the hospital.
"When I left the hospital I did not know what to do with myself,
without money and almost without roof ... so I begged her and promised
I would pay her when you send some money" (p. 353). And in 1897 she
wrote:
For God's sake what does it mean that you don't answer?...
For I don't think that you could have forgotten me
totally.... Answer me as soon as possible, and send me
anything you can. For if I were not in need I should never
annoy you, but our Lord God is the best witness how terribly
hard it is for me to live. Those few rubles which you sent me
a few times are only enough to pay the rent for some
months.... As to board, clothes, and shoes, they are earned
with such a difficulty that you have surely no idea. And I
must eat every day. There are mostly days in my present
situation when I have one small roll and a pot of tea for
the whole day, and I must live so. And this has lasted almost
five years since you left (p. 353).
She is pathetically grateful when money is sent. Thus in 1899 she
writes:
I received your letter, with twenty rubles and three
photographs, for which I send you a hearty "God reward!" I
bear it always in my heart and thought and I always repeat it
to everybody that you were good and generous, and you are so
up to the present (p. 358).
Her sufferings are not confined to financial worries and lack of a
place to eat and sleep. There is apparently a loss of social prestige
and a falling off of friends. The letters also show what was evidently
a real affection for her husband, and that at times his silence was
even worse than his failure to send money. Thus in 1905, when the
money and the letters were very irregular, she writes a letter (p.
362) in which no reference is made to her economic situation. After
asking if he received her last letter, she continues:
It is true, dear Wladek, that you have not so much time, but
my dear, write me sometimes a few words; you will cause me
great comfort. For I read your letter like a prayer, because
for me, dear Wladek, our Lord God is the first and you the
second. Don't be angry if I bore you with my letters, but it
is for me a great comfort to be able to speak with you at
least through this paper.
Her financial situation grows steadily worse, and in 1912 she writes
that she is "already barefooted and naked." The series closes with a
letter from a friend stating that she is ill and in the hospital, "not
so dangerously sick, but suffering very much ... and very weak from
bad nutrition and continuous sorrows." He closes: "And please write a
little more affectionately. Only do it soon, for it will be the best
medicine for your wife, at least for her heart" (p. 368).