by Steven Uhly
Reaching the door, Anna opens it and an icy wind blusters in, snow swirls around, another winter in Germany, it is cold, the end of November, the voyage by ship, the warmth, the bright sun, the arrival in the heat of Palestine, everything now seems like a fugitive dream, unreal, it never happened. She closes the door behind her, the people are a little further on, lots of them, the entire camp has assembled on the central square by the gate, Anna looks to the left, to the forest, bare trees, silence, but here where there are people, there is talking, a crackling comes from the tannoy, the voice speaks, it is muffled, you have to strain to understand what it is saying, it says, “Afghanistan?”
The voice waits, the people wait, Anna approaches the crowd, someone turns around, it is Sarah, she gives a start and runs over to Anna, behind her Anna can see Shimon looking at his sister uncomprehendingly. Now his eyes find his mother, who has not been on her feet for ages, he nudges the little girl standing next to him, the little girl turns to him then looks over at Anna, she opens her eyes wide and calls her name, a number of heads turn, one of them belongs to Frau Kramer, who comes over at once, Frau Kramer, the woman from the camp who, if the doctors had had it their way, ought never to have been allowed to save Anna.
Only seconds have passed, the voice speaks again, it says but a single word: “No.” Nothing more, the people hear it, some react, they talk, a murmur begins that falls silent again at a stroke because now the voice says, “Argentina? Argentina? Abstain.”
Ruth and Aaron, Mr. and Mrs. Abramowicz, Marja and Dana the doll, Ariel and old François, all of them heard. It is not cold, there is no snow on the ground, it is warm, very warm, they are sweating, the people have assembled in the camp, there is no forest around the camp, only rocky land, around the rocky land is sea, the island is called Cyprus, the camp is much bigger, thousands stand together, they are bored too, they too have gramophones, books, chess, they too plant things that will grow and change, they too stand here and wait because the crackling is once more interrupted by the voice that says, “Australia: Yes.”
A cheer, short and sparing, for there is more to come, country after country, Yes, No, Abstain, the crackling comes from the tannoy, but it also hangs in the shimmering air, many are standing in the shade, shade is scarce, others have put up umbrellas, but most do not mind, they have been through so much, escaping with their lives by a whisker, that the sun is the least of all dangers. Quite other questions hang in the air, What if the majority say No? Where will we go then? A supreme effort has gone into preventing this, Catholic South America wants an international Jerusalem, not a Jewish one, the city must form a Corpus Separatum, so David Ben-Gurion said, Yes, a whole city in return for your votes, not any old city, the city of cities, the South Americans will abstain or vote Yes, that will balance out the Arabs, who are voting No, and the British, who will abstain because of the Arabs on one side and the Americans on the other. The U.S.A. will vote Yes, no doubt about that, it is a question of votes back home, a No would be dangerous for the president, there are too many Jews in America, luckily the Americans have ensured that it will not be four hundred thousand more, the Americans are in favor of the state of Israel, Mr. Abramowicz says, his heart is full of pride about having such a powerful ally, Yes, yes, Aaron replies, one lot because they’re Jews and the others because they’re not. Aaron is sticking with the Soviet Union, which will not hesitate to say Yes, That’s an ally, he does not care that the Soviets might only be doing it to drive the British out of the Middle East finally. Mr. Abramowicz brushes aside this sophistry, at this historic moment he has no desire to debate with Aaron, he wants to savor the feeling. The women say nothing. The children say nothing. Since Emil’s death Dana the doll has not spoken again, Ariel has not read another book since the voyage, Marja stands there, listening to the adults talk, she feels like a fountain into which stones fall and sink immediately, Ariel listens to nobody, for him only the future exists, only the tannoy, Ariel is an arrow that must fly through fifty eyelets to Eretz Yisrael, What do you mean eyelets, they’re axes, No, they’re votes: Yes, No and Abstain.
Ruth looks around, Where is François? Standing over there with other old people, she misses him, he has found new companions, We’re too young for him. Since Pöppendorf, since the separation from Anna, Shimon, Sarah, no, earlier, since Peretz secretly jumped ship to plan the new escape with Ephraim Frank, Ruth has felt that her community is breaking up, How short this path has been since she became pregnant, she misses Anna’s silence at her side even more. She thinks, Where will I go with my child if Israel comes to nothing? She is yet to say anything to anybody, Now I understand you, she says silently to Anna.
At that moment the voice resounds over the tannoy. “Belgium? Yes. El Salvador? Abstain. Ethiopia? Abstain.”
“So far everything’s going to plan,” Gershom Sarfati says, acting calm. The colonel and his wife are sitting side by side on the wide sofa, in armchairs to the left and right their sons are leaning forward to hear better what the voice is announcing from the large wireless set against the wall opposite, directly below the set of antlers the colonel inherited from his father, who shot the stag in Greece, but maybe he just bought it there, nobody knows for sure, there are too many voices in this large family, Gershom Sarfati sticks to his father’s version, The truth, he once told his sons, is manufactured, it doesn’t come about by itself. Peretz eyes his father, who looks geriatric beside his wife. I never noticed that before, Peretz thinks, But you couldn’t see it before either. Twenty years only take effect over time, now they have reached the point where their joint path forks—one of them heading to death, the other to old age, this is painful, it seems as if the war did this too, even though Peretz just went away and now has come back. He and Anna are closer to one another, We can grow old together, Peretz thinks, but the thought leaves behind a strange feeling, all of a sudden Peretz feels like a naïve little boy who knows nothing of the world, and this time it is not because of Avner, his elder brother, who has come in his Palmach uniform and now sits here behaving as if he has already stepped into his father’s shoes, and this feeling is so old that Peretz long ago gave up trying to express it in words. You can’t choose your family, is what his mother once told him after a terrible argument with Avner, from which he emerged, as usual, the loser, she was trying to console him but Peretz heard her talking about herself, I didn’t choose you, I could have had other sons, sons who get on better, that is how it had sounded, Peretz recalled it now, How long was I away? he asks himself, Almost three years, but nothing has changed.
At that moment the voice over the tannoy announces, “France: Yes.”
Sarah has reached Anna, now she beams at her mother and says, “It’s so lovely you came out!” She links arms with Anna to give her support, Anna lets it happen, the realization that she has real maternal feelings toward Sarah surprises her, How did she manage that? she wonders, With persistence, if you have no mother you need to be utterly loyal to acquire one, biological children have to do the opposite, to gain their freedom, but for Sarah attachment is more important, Anna thinks all of this in a single moment, she knows it is true, they have become mother and daughter so that Sarah can begin to seek her freedom, Anna submits to this truth, which just happens to be there, it changes nothing immediately, only in the long term, now Frau Kramer arrives, concern on her face, she wants to talk of the cold but opts to keep quiet, she supports Anna on her other side and together the three women go over to Shimon and Lisa, who are watching them, standing there holding hands, and the other people look so big that tears come to Anna’s eyes, she herself does not even know why, it is this image of two children who think they belong together, but the world is so big and wild, and from there, from the midst of the world, the voice now comes over the tannoy, it belongs to a man called Trygve Halvdan Lie, the first secretary general of the United Nations and the only Norwegian Colonel Sarfati has heard of, he cannot pronounce the name properly, but for him that is unimportant, he says, I’m hap
py we’ve got him on our side, but secretly he is surprised each time goyim throw their weight behind the Jewish cause, What’s in it for them? he wonders, without being able to find an answer.
Fifty-six U.N. diplomats have assembled in Flushing Meadows, New York is cold at this time of year, but in U.N. headquarters nobody notices, Trygve Halvdan Lie has a large, oval face with a massive lower jaw, which gives the impression that he could crunch through bones if he had to, but he restricts himself to calling out each country in turn.
Avner says to his father, You know what it means if the majority say Yes, and the colonel gives the slightest of nods, he does not wish to discuss the matter to avoid unsettling his wife, but Lydia Sarfati has her own channels, she says to Peretz, “I’d like you to stay with me.”
Peretz nods, he is the younger, he will stay with his mother, he is not best pleased, but it means he has her all to himself for a while, that has not changed either. His mother smiles at him, she is nervous, from the wireless comes the stoical voice of the secretary general.
Old François says to one of his new acquaintances, a man with thick white hair and an equally white beard, Truth, justice and freedom are the pillars of human society, but can you imagine it will happen like that? The other man thinks for a while, and from the tannoy Trygve Lie says, “I am determined that nobody should be allowed to exert influence over this vote.”
François and his companions have not understood what this is about, but it is not particularly important to them, the U.S.A. has voted Yes, there is huge rejoicing, Mr. Abramowicz embraces his wife, Mrs. Abramowicz laughs so heartily her straw hat almost falls off her head, she is wearing it because of the sun, Marja and Ariel are delighted because their parents are happy, François’s acquaintance says, No, in fact I can’t imagine it will happen like that. François nods, he looks worried, he longs to be back in France, back on the train when they were all in good spirits, when the sun shone but did not burn, when they passed through an aromatic forest, when they were free for the first time in ages, free from the memory. He turns to his people, they stand there, Aaron has put his arm around Ruth, Mr. Abramowicz has lifted Marja onto his shoulders, he radiates confidence, François recalls the scrawny figure carrying his children through the house at Rykestrasse 57. Now he has turned into a large, almost massive man, with a strong neck and a beard like the Chassidim wear. François misses Anna and Shimon and Sarah, he has lost so many people, there were so many he failed to help stay alive. He sighs, They’re still on this earth, he thinks, That’s good enough.
The vote is coming to an end, someone cries out, Twenty-five Yes votes already and only seven Nos. But now comes the turn of the Arabs. The tannoy announces, “Egypt? No. Iraq? No. Iran? No. Lebanon? No.”
In cold Germany, where the people are standing in D.P. camps looking up at the tannoys, these are four Nos, then comes another Yes, an Abstain.
In Tel Aviv, at the corner of Boulevard Rothschild-Allenby, where the Sarfatis are sitting at home, there are four enemy neighbors, one hundred kilometers to Rafah on the Egyptian border, one hundred and thirty to Lebanon. Syria votes No, We’re encircled, Avner says, the colonel nods.
“That was to be expected. Problems only occur where people seek to expand.”
“Are we expanding then?” Peretz asks. The colonel does not look at his younger son, he juts his chin toward the wireless and says, “Well, that’s what the Arabs think.”
Lydia Sarfati sighs, she is troubled, she says, “There’s going to be war.” The colonel puts his arm around her, plants a kiss on her cheek, she looks small and slender beside his corpulent body, Like father and daughter, Peretz cannot help thinking. What about Anna and me? No answer comes.
“Soviet Union? Yes.”
The vote at the end of the first extraordinary General Assembly of the United Nations on November 29, 1947, lasted no more than a quarter of an hour. It was 16 Kislev, 5708, that was how long the Jews had been counting their years. The Sarfatis stood up and embraced each other, the colonel sang “The Hope,” the national anthem of the future country, Lydia Sarfati fetched champagne from the fridge, they toasted each other, drank a few sips, then Avner and his father went on their way. Outside in Boulevard Rothschild they were met by the joyful delirium of the city, laughing faces, dancing, singing. The colonel was in a hurry, the driver standing beside the dark limousine outside the house greeted him with a smile and a salute, then they embraced briefly, the love of one’s homeland can even disrupt military hierarchy for an instant. The colonel and his son got in, and they set off, the car hooting loudly as it nudged its way through the crowds at walking pace, then crossed Allenby and headed south to Levinski, where it took a left turn eastward.
Anna celebrated by forgetting the sorrow of her body for a while. She celebrated by freezing like everyone else, by singing like everyone else. She tried smiling like everyone else. She leaned on Frau Kramer, Sarah hugged her excitedly, now she had a mother, a father, a brother and a homeland, almost as it was before. Shimon trotted over, grabbed her legs and beamed, before running back to Lisa, a few young people started a snowball fight, it had been a long time since there was so much joy in Pöppendorf, in Berlin-Schlachtensee, in the Bavarian camps that were some of the largest in Germany, in the Austrian camps, on the secret routes from Czechoslovakia to Germany, in Szczecin, where even now there were Jews still hoping to make it to the West, although since the division between the victorious powers this had become increasingly difficult.
Nobody was celebrating in the house where Shimon was born, the Sweden Pavilion had been cleared out, one day luxury apartments would be for sale here, and on the estate agent’s website people would one day read the history of the house from the Vienna International Exposition of 1873 to the present day, but there would be no reference to its short period as a shelter to homeless Jews, as if this interlude had never occurred.
Nobody was celebrating in Rykestrasse 57, Germans lived there now, refugees from the East. In the synagogue a few houses down, Rabbi Martin Riesenburger was celebrating. Celebrating with him was the chairman of the Jewish Community of Berlin, Erich Nehlhans, unaware that in a few months’ time he would be taken prisoner by the Russians. The charge? It read:
Anti-Soviet agitation
and supporting the desertion
of Soviet soldiers
of the Jewish faith.
The sentence?
Twenty-
five
years
hard labor.
Erich Nehlhans celebrated, unaware that he would die in Siberia.
The French Jews celebrated, who had decided already when in the Résistance that they would be Jewish-French citizens.
The American Jews, who were always both in equal measure, celebrated, the British Jews, who did not have such an easy time of it, celebrated.
The Jews in Ethiopia celebrated, the Jews in Yemen, in Morocco, in Iran, in Iraq, the entire global diaspora celebrated, maybe even the Jews of the twelve lost tribes in India, who knows?
Ruth and Aaron celebrated with a little dance, Mr. Abramowicz lifted his shrieking, laughing wife into the air and exclaimed:
“Praised are you,
Eternal our God,
Sovereign of the Universe,
Who is good and beneficent.”
And those standing around, Ruth and Aaron, Mrs. Abramowicz in the air, the children, strangers said, Amen! Old François said, Amen, and celebrated with one eye laughing and one eye weeping. The earth was round, it turned impassively, the destiny of the world had neither improved nor deteriorated, Karl Treitz and Margarita Ejzenstain were still dead, Emil would never open his eyes again, Dana was still a doll, Ariel would never read another book, Shimon was not yet talking, Lisa still held his hand in the snow and saw her grandmother and Anna Sarfati side by side, as if they belonged together in this huge world.
Otto Kruse was still called Otto Deckert. On November 29, 1947, he smoked makhorka to combat the hunger and the freezing col
d of Siberia, wondering whether Anna was still alive and, if so, whether she had gone to Palestine.
In the immediate aftermath of the vote Haganah confronts an Arab militia on the continuation of Levinsky in Hatikva, a district of Tel Aviv. Jaffa, the ancient port virtually surrounded by Jewish Tel Aviv, is home mostly to Arabs. After the vote window panes are smashed, people gather up their possessions and flee the newly created state on donkey carts, on motorbikes, in minibuses.
Some will say later that the Arabs were just frightened.
Others will say that they were driven out.
People die on the day that Israel is reborn. Houses suddenly stand empty, fields are no longer cultivated, shops remain closed.
Nobody knows which laws have come into force. They are followed blindly.
88
Gudrun had dyed her hair black. You look like a gypsy, her grandmother said when she came to visit. The words were not accompanied by a smile. Gudrun just gave a shrug and left the apartment to go and see her best friend. The two women were on their own in the kitchen.
“That one is completely out of control,” Emma Kruse’s mother said, giving her daughter an angry look.
Emma tried to change the subject. “Otto’s finally changed department,” she said. “He’s moved to customer care, which is much more suited to him than deputy managing director.”
There was no reaction from Emma’s mother, unspoken accusations were reflected in her face.