A man holds a Polish scarf in Budapest Saturday during a candlelight commemoration for the victims of an air crash in Russia, which killed the Polish president along with numerous other political leaders of the country.(Karoly Arvai/Reuters)

In the house of the broken-hearted the Polish ambassador is standing in the foyer waiting for the prime minister of Canada to arrive and sign the book of condolence.

The book is in a room off the foyer and all through the raw, grey April afternoon they’ve been coming, young and old, with flowers and wreaths and candles, and they go into the room and they write in the book using, most of them, their first language, and then they leave, not knowing the prime minister of Canada is on his way.

“With deepest sorrow to the families of the victims of the tragic crash near Katyn,” someone wrote in English. “May Poland remember these people and the transformation effect they had on the nation.”

Also in English: “My heartfelt condolences to the people of Poland on this tragic day. May you find the courage and resilience to overcome this tragedy as you had so overcome many times throughout your remarkable history.”

The ambassador’s name is Zenon Kosiniak-Kamysz. He was posted to Ottawa in January. “Mr. Ambassador,” I say, “do you like hockey?”

Pair of skates

Even the worst of tragedies can find room for a small smile. “Yes. My first purchase when I came to Canada was a pair of skates. I skate on the canal. I’ve always felt that when diplomats go to a new country they should take up what is important to that country. When I went to Slovakia, I took up biking.”

I offer him my condolences over the tragedy. “It’s a curse,” he says. “It has to be a curse. It happened when they were going for the Katyn ceremony.”

Katyn. The Poles will never forget Katyn. Or forgive. April of 1940 when Russian troops took 22,000 captured Polish soldiers, civilians, and police officers to the Katyn Forest in Russia and slaughtered them in cold blood.

I ask the ambassador about Russian reports that the Polish pilot three times rejected orders not to land from air traffic controllers because of the dense fog.

He pauses. “I will not speculate. But, I knew those pilots personally. They were very experienced and qualified.”

I express my own doubts that pilots, especially ones bestowed with the honour of flying the political and military elite of the country because of the pilots’ superior experience and qualifications, would defy orders not to land.

“There will be separate investigations by Russia and Poland,” is how he answers. And then: “It was a shock because we lost our president, our first lady, our own best people, and so many other important people. And a double shock because of where they were going. Katyn.”

Witold Szalankiewicz does not have to be diplomatic. And isn’t. He’s 54, a massage therapist. He came to Ottawa from Poland in 1989. Standing on the steps of the embassy, he says: “I am very suspicious. You talk to a lot of people coming here today, they will tell you the same thing. You can’t trust the Russians. Polish people hate the Russians. They suppressed us for over 200 years. There isn’t a person in Poland who hasn’t had a victim in their family of Russian suppression.”

Why, I ask, would Russia want to engineer the crash.

“To destroy the elite of the country that believes in the democracy we’ve become. Here was a way to get everybody in one place at once. It’s interesting that a plane full of 200 journalists landed with no problem shortly before the plane crash.

“The Russians hate us. Poland stands up to Russia. They can’t control us anymore. Russia was furious with Poland when it became the only European country to take in Chechen refugees. Poland blocks Russian EU proposals. Russia was furious when Poland joined NATO in 1999.

“No one knows the mind of Russians like the Polish people. Did you know that Putin’s grandfather was once Stalin’s chef? Putin himself was head of the KGB branch in East Germany.”

Witold Szalankiewicz says he’s begun a seven-day fast for the dead of his former homeland.

A small, elderly woman carrying a bouquet of flowers stops me on the steps of the embassy as I head back inside. In a thick accent, she says: “That man right. Russians not to be trust. Russians good at covering up. Putin?” She makes a spitting sound. She touches her breast. “Cold, cold. Never change.”

The prime minister of Canada has arrived. He shakes the hands of embassy staff in the foyer, and goes into the room where the book awaits.

“I knew President Kaczynski,” he writes. “This is a terrible tragedy, obviously more than just the death of the president, truly without precedent. The Polish people and Polish government know they have the eternal support of the Canadian people. God bless Poland.”

And he leaves the house of the broken-hearted.

earl.mcrae@sunmedia.ca