Silesia.
Śląsk.
Slezsko.
Schlesien.
I have been called all of these names in my lifetime.
I was there when everything happened.
My earliest memory traced me back to his face. That face that I almost had mistaken for a girl's face. Eccentric, feminine and quirky was Poland, my original guardian. Sometimes he forgot my meals and talked in a funny and usually incomprehensible way. But he was kind and I could see through my then-blue eyes that he cared for me.
Then there was Bohemia. Poland handed me to her and I was taken under her wing. Considered an important region, I lived a happy life. As a young region, who could not match up to the importance of a whole nation, I was excluded from meetings, but had to sit through conferences that involved me. But Bohemia was always there to mentor me, to help me. If anything happened to me, she was responsible. She was kind, and her gentle smile reassured me. She was like a mother to that young me.
Then I was brought to Austria. He was kind, polite and well-mannered. I sat at the doorway listening to him playing the piano, producing elegant sounds through his skilled fingers. He lectured me often and I tried not to fall asleep. I was taught everything about etiquette and proper manners. But there were times Austria showed his soft side. When I was sick, he took the time to help Hungary look after me. Just that gesture was enough to warm my heart.
Then, at the infamous War of Austrian Succession, I was taken, snatched and seized from my comfortable life in Austria by Prussia. Time with Prussia wasn't considered a holiday for me. He was constantly yelling and bragging. I worked as his servant, dragging myself here and there and coming and going at his whim. Sometimes, the other soldiers mistook me for his relative as I had white hair akin to his. But Prussia sometimes looked at me with disgust. Then one day, he came up to me and told me he hated my eyes. "Those filthy blue eyes make me sick," he had said. In a sudden spark of rage, I lashed back that those eyes were my pride, a reflection of the wonderful times I had with my previous guardians. Prussia was of course quite stunned that I dared to talk back. He threatened to gorge out my eyeballs and blind me. We got into a fight and although he was hurt, I suffered more injuries. The person treating me said that there was something wrong with my eyes. When I looked into the mirror, I was shocked that my sky blue eyes had turned bloodshot. I prayed that they would heal and return to their original colour. But in the next few days, my blue eyes had turned entirely red, a shade of burgundy that somehow pleased Prussia.
Over a century in Prussia's rule had ruined me. Although he helped me, he sometimes mistreated me. I had developed a bad temper and tend to fight people who angered me. By the time I was returned to Poland, I was no longer that cheerful, blue-eyed, healthy boy, but was now a short-tempered teenager bearing eyes of crimson and bearing an uncanny resemblance to Prussia. Poland immediately took pity on me. He got my long hair trimmed, and with his kindness I managed to revert back to that person I was before Prussia, but with a fiery temper and brute strength. But I was still Silesia.
Śląsk.
Slezsko.
Schlesien.
I may be called any one of those names, but deep down I didn't need to be told by anyone who I really was. I closed my eyes and in my head and my heart I knew who I was.
Silesia.