You Don’t Have to Visit Belarus to Hear Belarusian: An Interview with Nina Barszczewska

nina_barszczewska-fot-michal_dabrowski01-s.jpg, default, Nina Barszczewska, photo: M. Dąbrowski, You Don’t Have to Visit Belarus to Hear Belarusian: An Interview with Nina Barszczewska

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Nina Barszczewska, a linguist and expert on the Polish-Belarusian borderlands, tells us about the different dialects one car hear in Poland’s Podlasie region.

Michał Dąbrowski: What language or dialect will a tourist visiting the Podlasie region hear?

Nina Barszczewska: It will differ in different parts of the region, as Eastern Slavic dialects are really diverse here.

In the north-east, around the towns of Dąbrowa Białostocka and Sokółka, you can hear a dialect that’s nearly identical to Belarusian. It’s obviously a Belarusian dialect with characteristics typical for Belarusian: akanie (literally: ‘a-ing’, type of vowel reduction), ciakanie and dziakanie (pronunciation of particular, no longer used soft consonants). People would say, for example, chadzici, rabici (instead of: chodzić, robić – to walk, to do).

There is one phonetic feature that distinguishes this dialect from literary Belarusian – the incomplete akanie, upon which pronunciation of the last open syllable remains unchanged. Speakers of literary Belarusian would say: biełaruskaha, czyrwonaha, while users of the dialect would say: czyrwonaho, biełaruskaho. The last syllable retains an etymological ‘o’.

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The village of Zbucz, Gmina Czyże, Hajnówka County, 2015, photo: Agencja Wschód / Forum

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In the area of Hajnówka and Bielsk Podlaski dialects are transitional. There are no akanie, dziakanie or ciakanie, so we hear: choditi, robiti. Further south, around the village of Czeremcha, you’ll find more Ukranian features and the pronunciation will be hard: chodyty, robyty.

It’s worth mentioning that these dialects have an influence on the Polish language.

MD: Where is this influence noticeable?

NB: People from Białystok tend to pronounce palatal s’, z’, c’, dz’, which elsewhere they’re unpalatalised, e.g. chodzic’, robic’ (rather than: chodzić, robić).

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Białystok herring, a souvenir from Białystok, photo: Anatol Chomicz / Forum

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In some parts of Podlasie, Polish dialects are present alongside the East Slavic dialects – mainly in the areas to the west of the Augustów Canal, Biebrza and Brzozówka rivers. These are Masurian and East Masovian dialects, with kurpiowskie (from the Kurpie region) and podlaskie (from Podlasie) among them. Mazurzenie (‘masuration’, the replacement of retroflex fricatives and affricates with alveolar series) is typical for these dialects. So people pronounce: safa, zaba, capka instead of: szafa, żaba, czapka (closet, frog, hat).

These dialects in turn influence the East Slavic dialects, including the Belarusian dialect. You don’t usually hear mazurzenie among speakers of the East Slavic dialects, but along the border of these regions some characteristics are shared. So, for example, where East Slavic and Masovian dialects meet, mazurzenie may be common.

Typical Belarusian conjugation is often used here: ja był, ja robił (I was, I did, instead of: byłem, robiłem, where the ‘I’ is built in).

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Lines of phonetic divisions of the Białystok region dialects, comp. Paweł Iwaniuk, photo: courtesy of Nina Barszczewska

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MD: What does the term ‘podlaska haworka’ refer to?

NB: Podlaska haworka, also known as gwara podlaska (Podlasie dialect), is often inappropriately used to describe East Slavic dialects used in the Podlasie region.

Gwara podlaska actually refers to a particular East Masovian dialect – a Polish language dialect spoken in this region. East Slavic dialects can be further divided into Belarusian, Ukrainian and transitional – between Belarusian and Ukrainian.

In 2013, the Department of Belarusian Studies at the University of Warsaw carried out research which resulted in the following finding: residents of Podlasie described their manner of speaking as prostaja mowa, prostaja haworka, mytut haworym pa prostu (simple speech, simple parlance, we simply just talk).

MD: Do they notice the phonetic differences between particular dialects?

NB: Yes, and sometimes they even give people who speak differently nicknames based on those differences. So, for instance, if someone says szczo, they become a szczokman, while if they say szto, they become a sztokman.

MD: What historical circumstances can explain these differences?

NB: Podlasie was part of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania before the Union of Lublin (Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth) was established in 1569. The territories of contemporary Hajnówka and Bielsk Podlaski then became a part of the Kingdom of Poland.

The line that stretches from the Augustów Canal through the Biebrza, Brzozówka and Supraśl rivers towards the Białowieża Forest reflects the border of spoken languages and is nearly identical to the former border between the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the Kingdom of Poland, commonly referred to as Korona (the Crown).

This division is still present in vocabulary. Those who speak languages or dialects with akanie, dziakanie and ciakanie are called Lićwiny or Litwini (Lithuanians) due to their former affiliation with the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. Those from the lands of Korona are nicknamed Korolucy.

While we conducted our research, we asked our interviewees a tricky question: ‘do the Lićwiny speak Lithuanian?’ People answered: ‘no, no, they speak Belarusian, not Lithuanian!’. So the term Lićwiny is not at all associated with Lithuania, but with the Grand Duchy of Lithuania.

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Orla, Bielsk County, photo: M. Dąbrowski

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MD: Hajnówka and Czeremcha are only 35 kilometres apart but it’s the differences in the way people speak are quickly noticeable.

NB: Professor Elżbieta Smułkowa, who has carried out a research in this area, describes these dialects as transitional, because Belarusian features are gradually replaced by Ukrainian ones. Then the further south we go, the more Ukrainian features can be noticed; conversely, Belarusian features are more prevalent in the north.

MD: What are the consequences of the fusion of these languages?

NB: In the areas where the Belarusian population exceeds 20%, the minority’s nomenclature could be officially used and Belarusian language could become a secondary language to be used in official contexts alongside Polish. So far five municipalities introduced this: Hajnówka, Czyże, Narewka, Narew and Orla.

Some residents of Orla, however, were reluctant because the name of their village now has to be written in both Polish and Belarusian. And why should they write ‘Orla’ if they actually call it ‘Wuorla’? But since some people living there identify as Belarusians, the name has to be written in literary language, not common parlance, therefore it’s… ‘Orla'. But official nomenclature doesn’t always capture the true features of a certain region. In this area, everyone speaking the East Slavic dialect will still say ‘Wuorla’, not Orla.

MD: Did language have any influence on people in terms of their nationality?

NB: It wasn’t the only factor that shaped the national identity of locals. A number of actions were taken here by different Belarusian organisations, such as the Belarusian Peasants' and Workers' Union, called Hramada (active during the Interwar period), the Belarusian Social and Cultural Association, as well as other institutions in the 1980s and 1990s.

Inhabitants of this region were aware that the East Slavic language they spoke singled them out. It also took them more time to assimilate due to religious differences, as they were Eastern Orthodox. What’s interesting, nowadays we hear about a significant community of ‘Eastern Orthodox Poles’.

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Orla, with its 17th-century synagogue visible in the background, photo: Anatol Chomicz / Forum

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MD: How did this term come to be?

NB: Perhaps it’s because some people don’t notice that there’s so much more to identity than just nationality. The term ‘Eastern Orthodox Poles’ describes people bound to these territories but brought up in Polish tradition, and who graduated from Polish schools. I have been asked: ‘You live in Poland, so what kind of a Belarusian does that make you?’. Does that mean that every person living in Poland is a Pole? No. There are minorities, ethnic groups. National identity is a very personal matter.

Further east, there are entire villages where nobody speaks Polish. On the other hand, my students were surprised to learn that you didn’t have to visit Belarus to hear Belarusian.

Borders changed often in this region, people strived to keep their customs, their rituals, their culture.

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A visit from the Patriarch of Moscow and All Rus' Kirill at the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity in Hajnówka, 2012, photo: Piotr Tumidajski / Forum

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MD: There’s a secondary school in Hajnówka where Belarusian is taught along with Polish. Why is there no school that teaches Ukrainian? Can this be attributed to the activity of Hromada and other Belarusian organisations?

NB: I believe that their activities have enhanced Belarusian awareness. But today, some people recognise dialects spoken in their hometowns as Ukrainian. Leaving nomenclature aside, some locals most certainly would like to learn Ukrainian. And there ways to do so, for example, in Bielsk Podlaski. Professor Michał Sajewicz of the Maria Skłodowska-Curie University in Lublin explains this phenomenon: he argues that the Ukrainian dialect occurs where the akanie, ciakanie and dziakanie fade.

When we were doing our research, we came across people who complained about being taught literary Belarusian, which was significantly different from how they were used to speaking it at home. One gentleman told us how his identity transitioned from Belarusian to Ukrainian. He said that after completing his studies, he realised that people living in his village spoke Ukrainian. He learnt where his ancestors had come from and even felt some sort of grief that, in the past, a Belarusian identity had been forced on him in a way. National identity can change. You can’t make anyone feel Belarusian, Ukrainian or Polish.

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General Secondary School with Additional Belarusian Language Classes in Hajnówka, photo: Leszek Jańczuk / Wikipedia

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MD: According to the general census held in Belarus, there are twice as many people speaking Russian than Belarusian. Is Belarusian a romantic notion then? Has it got any chance of survival? What factors have weakened its position?

NB: I think that Belarusian managed to survive many centuries despite turbulent times. This could be partly attributed to the fact that people kept using it, because they simply didn’t know any other language. Nowadays, russification is putting it in jeopardy. Regardless, Belarusians are aware that their language is what distinguishes them from Russians. Unlike faith, which unifies people.

At present, I think Belarusian has expanded enough to say and describe anything, including scientific nomenclature from numerous disciplines, so it should have a good chance at survival.

When I worked as a simultaneous translator, I met a group of teenagers with an excellent command of Belarusian. When they were talking to me, they used Belarusian but they used Russian when speaking to each other. I asked them why that was. ‘We just got used to it, it’s easier this way’. Belarusian isn’t in complete decline, people know how to speak it. It’s a matter of habit, language policy.

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'March of New Belarus', Independence Square, Miński 25th August 2020, photo: Tatyana Zenkovich / EAP / PAP

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There had been short periods of ‘belarusisation’, for example, in the 1920s and 1990s, after which lots of people began speaking Belarusian. And let’s not forget the meaning of national symbols – I remember when the Belarusian Embassy in Warsaw was set up and the white-red-white flag being pulled up the flagpole, the Pahonia coat of arms, all that. Let’s hope we’ll return to that one day.

MD: So not only can the Belarusian language survive but even regain its lost position and prestige?

NB: With a well-thought-through language policy, ‘belarusisation’ could be carried out quite quickly. By now people are accustomed to being Belarusian, although some make jokes that they’re just ‘passport Belarusians’, committed only on an official level.

State borders also have an influence on national identity, of course. Nowadays, when we think of our homeland, we don’t imagine they endless territory of the Soviet Union but an actual place. When you build your own statehood and culture, language is your foundation. It’s impossible to create Belarusian culture without tradition and rituals related to language.

My PhD student wrote her doctoral thesis about the Belarusian used by youth on the internet. Some big companies, in turn, try to distinguish themselves by using Belarusian in advertising. The conclusion? The language is developing. Surely, the fact that there are multiple versions of Belarusian is something of an obstacle. But I believe that a sensible language policy would result in a consensual set of standards which would reflect the character of Belarusian speech.

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Beginning of the Belarusian language matriculation (matura) exam at the Bronisław Taraszkiewicz II General Secondary School with Teaching in Belarusian in Bielsk Podlaski, photo: Jędrzej Wojnar / Agencja Gazeta

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MD: Let’s talk about the borderlands again. Was the term tutejszy (from here, of this land) created as a result of frequent border changes?

NB: I think there are fewer and fewer tutejszy people. Now, people tend to take on defined identities: Belarusian, Ukrainian, Polish. This term was used to give people a sense of security. ‘Who are you?’ ‘I’m tutejszy’. Meaning: ‘I live here, my ancestors did too’. The residents of these areas never really knew which identity was the best or the safest to opt for.

MD: Then, was land a key feature in defining one’s identity?

NB: Attachment to land was very important to people of the 19th century. But we can’t say it still matters to residents of these lands today.

During our studies in the town of Bobrowniki, we were told how a border change resulted in village dwellings being left on the Polish side of the border and fields on the Belarusian side. People strived to maintain their lands, their families. Before – people could easily socialise. Then suddenly they lived in different countries.

MD: So national identity was less significant to them?

NB: Yes, people didn’t feel the need to define their identity on that level, because they didn’t experience much ‘otherness’. Communities used to be more reclusive, cities weren’t visited often, and there wasn’t a need or even the possibility of meeting ‘different’ people.

While in Orla, we heard a lot about the Jewish community which used to live there and how different communities co-existed on the same land. People mourned the Jews who perished during World War II. This shows how strong the bonds that formed among residents of this region were. Regardless of nationality, people willingly share this territory. We live here, we work here and living together enriches us. That’s why Podlasie is a ‘small homeland’ for so many people.

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The 'Basowiszcza' Festival of Young Belarusian Music in Gródek, 2012, photo: Agencja Wschód / Forum

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MD: How do residents of the Polish borderland territories feel about their distinctiveness?

NB: During our research in Podlasie we also spoke with local youth. Some appreciate the fact that their parents spoke to them in their dialect when they were little. Nowadays, people speak Polish to their children most of the time. That includes grandparents, who try to speak Polish to their grandchildren, even though they only have a basic command of the language themselves. The people we spoke to, appreciated the tradition, being a bit different, distinctive.

When it comes to the intertwining of cultures and languages, we end up having a peculiar conglomerate. Borderlands may either be inviting or excluding – I’d say this one is open, it doesn’t repel other cultures but rather absorbs them, in a way. Synergy or adaptation are much better than assimilation on its own.

Educated people, who know the history of this region, aren’t surprised that Belarusians, Poles and Ukrainians share this land. Unfortunately, we still deal with nationalism – perhaps that’s why some people assimilate quicker. Mixed marriages are in fact another factor accelerating assimilation; in this case the Polish language and Catholicism prevail.

MD: Can you think of a single word that’s understood by all residents of the Polish-Belarusian borderlands?

NB: You mean one word that has a common meaning? That’s a good question. I know: mowa (speech). It appears in all three languages, Polish, Belarusian and Ukrainian.

Interview conducted in Polish, Dec 2020, translated by Agata Dudek-Woyke, Jan 2021

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In Our Own Way

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