The strata of her responsibilities grew thicker.
The clock ticked ever more rapidly.
And the stifling summer heat exasperated everyone.
Around her, stress and anxiety continued to mount between the normal and the abnormal, the straightforward and the extreme, the ordinary and the extraordinary. It appeared as though most people were attempting to adjust to this new normalcy—to repair and retain their lives as best they could. Yet, in actual fact, the situation’s deterioration had accelerated like a revving engine.
Esther’s single-mindedness in laying out her path diverted her focus away from the people she had shared roof and life with these past eight years. While she made sure the children’s basic needs were met, she remained far more concerned with the future—to ensure there would be a future for her and the children—than with the day to day. This explained why nearly two weeks passed before she noticed Tova had a persistent, odd cough that would result in a strange, high-pitched sound. And a fever accompanied the cough, which made the girl’s face turn bright red and her eyes bulge. She was losing weight swiftly.
“Ach nein!” Esther shouted. “Tova’s got Keuchhusten—whooping cough.” She knew this illness well, as five of her younger siblings had contracted it when she was fourteen.
You cannot get sick, not now, and you cannot get the others sick, Esther cried out silently. It’s not possible. This cannot happen. They won’t take you on the train. You must go on the train. If there is a trace or suspicion of illness, you will not be allowed on the train. Oh, what to do? What to do?
And what about me? I have to leave. I must continue with my plans and get away from here!
There was no doctor to turn to. The two in their quarter had been taken away five months before. Neither had returned. She could ask Frau Göttlieb for help, but she was out of town with her family for a short holiday. Even if she had been reachable, Esther was not certain she could or should seek more help. Frau Göttlieb had done so much already, and all at her own risk. Asking for anything more—even for a child—was too much. Especially now, with the complicated issues finally resolved, the strategies designed, and the plan soon to be carried out.
Nein, Esther thought, I must manage on my own. She scanned the recesses of her memory for remedies Bubbe Royza would use to heal her and her siblings when they were ill. Esther had never thought about these before, favoring new medicines for the children. But options were no longer available.
“Swallow these,” she ordered, handing Tova four cloves of raw garlic.
“Nein, Mama, Neeeeiiiiiinnnnn!” Tova shrilled, her face a bright red. “Igitt! Yuck! I don’t like this! It tastes horrible!”
Tova kept her jaw clamped and shook her head fiercely. Esther had to wrestle with her to get the cloves down her throat. She then forced the girl to suck on thick pieces of salt. “This, too, will help make you better.”
“Igitt!” Tova shouted.
Esther recalled Bubbe Royza, and her own mama, had the children breathe in tar whenever they developed colds or respiratory problems. I must give that a try, she thought. The closest location under construction was at the southern edge of the Kölner Dom. Parts of the cathedral’s roof truss were under repair. Half carrying, half dragging an exhausted, tearful Tova, Esther got her to the site and sat the little girl on the ground at the corner where the stench of tar was strongest. An open vat was nearby.
“Breathe, Tovele, breathe deeply,” Esther said gently, encouraging the girl to inhale the smelly black liquid. “And please stop crying. I know it seems strange. It’s not like going to the doctor’s office, but this will help you. I’m sure this will make you feel better right away.”
At first Tova resisted, but Esther pressed her close. She tenderly held Tova’s long hair away from her face as the girl bent over to take in the tar’s healing properties.
“Ah, my Tovele,” Esther said, lightly stroking Tova’s forehead. “You will feel well very soon.”
Esther felt a pang in her chest but brushed it aside. Now is not the time for sentiment, she thought. Tova must get better quickly! There is no alternative.
Still, she was unexpectedly gentle with this child. It was one of the few genuine acts of mothering compassion Esther had expressed to any of her children.
After about one hour, Tova began to breathe more normally, and she stopped coughing. Her body relaxed. She snuggled into her mama’s chest, content to have a special moment of consolation.
Imagine that, Esther reflected, this old Polish remedy actually works.
And imagine … caring and compassion still resided within …
Two days before the girls’ scheduled departure, Esther informed Abraham about the preparations she had made. “They are going to safety. This is a good thing, and it’s all been arranged. There is nothing to discuss.”
Before Abraham could object, she repeated, “Es ist alles arrangiert. It has all been arranged.”
She didn’t elaborate on the details or reveal her contacts, but she did underscore their good fortune. “Getting on these transports is highly competitive. Not every child whose name got in the pool was selected. You must understand how extremely lucky Tova and Miriam are. How lucky we are.”
Abraham did not understand. “How can you use the word ‘luck’ when you tell me you are sending the girls away? My girls?”
Abraham shouted—it was the first time Esther had, in their eight years together, heard him raise his voice. “How can you do this to us? Unserer Familie—to our family? How can you do this to me?”
She watched impassively as he ranted on. He stomped his foot and pounded his fists on the table, on his chest, on the floor. Tears cascaded down Abraham’s face.
In the end, he did not resist. He did not have the ability or strength to resist. Esther’s will was implacable.
The night before her plan would unfold, Esther had a dream. It was the first she had dreamt since leaving Przeworsk, sixteen years ago now. Since that juncture, her nights had been as empty of emotion and heart as her days. But this night was different, for her sleep was deep and full.
Esther dreamt she was descending. One, slow, considered step after another. Each step echoing the last. The space before her was ebony but emanated warmth. She felt uneven ground beneath her feet, and the course she followed wound in a steep decline. In some areas the space narrowed or shrank, and she had to bend or twist her body in response to jutting stones. It was unlike anywhere she had ever been. She did not know where she was or what this was or why she was there. She continued to feel and breathe through the dark. There appeared to be no ending and no longer a memory of what came before. No sense or possibility of time. She had no fear. She was confined but liberated, on a path seemingly without destination or purpose. Throughout the night, in the arms of Maya, she ventured forward.
A cave …
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Life … this life … all life is fragile … so very fragile indeed …
Gossamer that melts upon touch.
Most of you … most of the time … hang on by thin threads … delicate silk … glorious strands of luminescent silk certainly … but threads nonetheless.
You are here in this place … in any place … at this time … at any time … to confront your fears … your issues … and rise up … rise above. You are here to learn … to grow … grow strong … mighty … invincible. This is your destiny. This is your karma.
This is truth for all.
But far too often … for many of you … for far too many … the difficulties to overcome are too great. Well … they appear too great. For in truth they are not … they cannot be … for you … yourself … have chosen them.
Yes … this is true … although in all likelihood you do not recall.
So many lose the path to strength …
So many lose the path to truth.
In your human incarnation … so much … so very much … sadly most … is forgotten. Numerous blocks … countless w
alls … endless barriers are erected. Thick … and high … seemingly impenetrable.
I could say this is a travesty … but it is not.
For at some point … at some place in time … you will prevail. You will overcome all adversity even … and most significantly … overcome yourself … your limitations … your fears. The things that torture you … chase you down at night.
Please … you must know … there is nothing … not one thing … that is impossible … that is insurmountable …
Truly … truly … nothing at all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Nein! Nein!
“Papa! Papaaaaaaaa! Bitte! Papa! Mama!
“Bitte! Please! Please! Papa!
“I want nach Hause gehen—to go home!
“Jetzt! Now!
“I don’t want to go on the train!
“Bringt mich wieder nach Hause! Take me home!
“Papa! Papa! Why don’t you listen to me?
“Was habe ich—What did I do? What did I do?”
Watching his little girl in such pain, Abraham’s heart strangulated; tears coursed down his face. Esther remained as stone, willing the demise of any rebel feeling.
I cannot react, she ordered herself. I must not react. I am doing this to save their lives. This is the only way. There are no other options.
She continues to smother her heart … but at times this is essential.
Miriam’s screams refused to stop. Could not stop.
Tova watched the scene unfold as if from a distance. At eight years old, she had twice traveled on a train—to go on overnight trips with her class—and although Papa and Mama had not informed them of their destination, she assumed she was going on a similar outing. And Schwestie must be old enough now to come too.
This trip seemed to be more of an adventure than those in the past because Mama had roused them before the light and dressed each in five layers of clothing. Additional clothing was stuffed in two tiny suitcases. Schwestie, of course, had to bring her bear. She was never without it—would never be without it.
When they arrived at the train station, Tova wondered if a festival was scheduled, for the platform swarmed with children—maybe hundreds. She had never seen anything like it, and while the scene fascinated her, the crowds frightened Miriam. That was when she began to beg Papa to take them home.
“Stop crying, Schwestie. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” Tova tried to quiet her little sister.
“It will be a great adventure. We’ll play lots of games. And they’ll be new games, different than what we have. Last time I went on a school trip we stayed by a large field, near woods. We went on walks and learned lots of interesting things about the forest. We’ll have a good time. I promise.”
But Miriam refused to listen. A perceptive child, she sensed a finality and with all her weight and will resisted the end to everything she knew and loved to the best of her six-year-old ability.
Esther and Abraham did not contradict what Tova said; in fact, neither uttered a word. Esther had business to attend to. She needed to ensure all the necessary forms were in order. And Abraham could not construct an adequate sentence to explain what was happening and why. Chiefly because he did not understand it himself, nor agree with Esther’s rationale that their lives were in danger.
“Müll! Rubbish! This is all rubbish!” he muttered to himself, but was in no way capable of surmounting Esther’s indomitable will.
Feigning a unified front, they led Tova and Miriam through the various check-in lines, where official papers were inspected, signed, and stamped. The girls were issued numbers on small cardboard signs they were to wear around their necks throughout the journey. To make sure they were fastened securely, Esther pulled out a calyx-eye needle and twine to stitch these to the collars of each girl’s dress. She knew this would create small holes, but more importantly, the signs would not fall off.
Tova did not recall she had been given a number to wear like this on either of her previous trips. Perhaps this is a game, she thought. How fun! Everything taking place made it seem like a special occasion.
When they were put on the train, Schwestie screamed and cried with renewed vigor. Until all she had the energy for was a slow, low whimper. This would remain her constant companion for months to come.
The train’s whistle blew, and within a few brief minutes, metal and glass, wheels and spokes dissolved away to become a nearly kilometer-long sea of thin, outstretched, imploring arms, tiny hands—and desperate tears.
Esther was the first to turn and walk away.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Plans, long conceived,
become deed …
She left two days later.
With the girls now gone, Esther turned her attention to the unfinished details that would ensure safe flight.
But what does safe in actual fact mean? she wondered. Does it exist? And I’m still not convinced I will be able to conceal myself with a toddler by my side. But I have no choice. I must take my chances with my young boy on the road. It’s clear I can’t leave Zami with Abraham. Wherever I go, wherever I end up, no matter what might occur, Zami will be more secure with me.
Esther had an inherent sense of duty coupled with protective instincts. Abraham trusted everyone and disbelieved what she knew, without question, had taken root. She was sure harm would befall him but could not muster an ounce of empathy.
“Foolish, foolish man,” Esther would mutter under her breath. She did this often. “Fortunately he is no longer my concern.”
While Esther packed and made final preparations, Abraham moved through the apartment like a ghost—a dark and brooding ethereal shadow. Engulfed by resentment and pain, he could not forgive Esther for sending his girls away.
No more words passed between them.
Abraham’s lone pleasure and only joy was Zami. To feed him. To rock him. To change him. To sing to him:
Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf.
der Vater hütet die Schaf,
die Mutter schüttelt’s Bäumelein,
da fällt herab ein Träumelein.
Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf.
………………..
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Thy father guards the sheep;
Thy mother shakes the little tree,
That pleasant dreams may fall on thee.
Sleep, little child, sleep!
Or “Rozhinkes mit Mandlen,” the one his grandmother sang most often:
In dem beys hamikdosh,
In a vinkl-kheyder,
Zitst di almone, bas tsion, aleyn
Ir ben-yochidl yidele,
Vigt zi k’seyder,
Un zingt im tzum shlofn a lidele sheyn.
Ay-lu-lu
………………..
In the Holy Temple,
In the corner of a room
Sits the widow, Zion’s Daughter, herself.
There she keeps rocking
Her only small son, little Yidele [Judah]—
And sings him to sleep with this sweet tune:
Ay, lyu, lyu
He would speak about the games they would play together when Zami grew older and bigger. Oblivious to Esther’s machinations, Abraham had no idea that soon he would be alone.
With the baby occupied, Esther arranged her most important belongings in the large woven basket. This flight was one of practicality and necessity. Nothing more. She did not own many things, and most of what she had was of no interest or personal value.
The singular possession that transcended material need was Bubbe Royza’s kiddush cup. Its connection to Esther’s history ran deep; its innate sense of calm and well-being were primal. She refused to leave it behind.
“Oh, my dear, dear Bubbe Royza,” Esther murmured as she caressed the engraving that bordered the cup’s rim, then tenderly wrapped it in a small square of black felt. She sighed. “I do miss you deeply.” But, she continued on in her head, now is not for sentiments. I must be practical. I know you,
of all people, dear bubbe, would appreciate that. This fabric will protect the cup while traveling. I am confident it will. Then, at some point in the future, it will be molded into a flower to adorn a skirt or blouse. Each item I include must have a purpose. No space can be wasted.
Esther became a master at layering. Over the past month she had brought necessary items concealed within her clothing to Frau Göttlieb’s home. A medium-sized suitcase waited for her there, holding one winter outfit each for her and Zami. Frau Göttlieb assured her warm coats and winter boots would be made available in Wuppertal.
Esther did her best to keep the basket light so she would not exert too much effort under its weight. It could not be unwieldy and draw suspicion. Sewing supplies lined the bottom. She put in as wide a selection of needles and colors and sizes of threads as space allowed, along with scissors, tracing papers, stencils, templates, and wheel. An assortment of common buttons and zippers of various sizes joined them, neatly arranged beside a variety of ribbon, pins and pincushions, thimbles, snaps, hooks, eyelets, marking pencils, and chalk. And—the essential tape measure.
Together … these materials will be her lifeline …
“In der Wohnung—In the apartment, you will find all the basic furniture and household utensils you will need,” Frau Göttlieb informed her during their most recent visit. “Eine tragbare Nähmaschine—A portable sewing machine will be there. It is small, but I am confident you will find it useful. There will also be some bobbins and thread. I was not able to locate a wide variety.”
A sewing machine would enable her to work more quickly, and Esther was appreciative. However, she knew instinctively this location would not be permanent, and the likelihood of carrying a sewing machine where next she must venture was unlikely. Esther understood that wherever this odyssey led, a needle and thread would suffice—must suffice. And, beyond question, her clarity and wits. For what Esther was to embark upon, her capacity to bury sad and sorrowful emotions was now a benefit.
Guesthouse for Ganesha Page 10