by Roxi Harms
CHAPTER THREE
On a crisp, spring afternoon in 1925, three decades after the citizens of Elek struck clean drinking water, Anna Bambach lowered her buckets down the shaft of the town well one at a time, filling them with cool, sweet water. George Baumann, 21 at the time, spied the pretty 16-year-old as he strolled home from the fields enjoying the spring sun on his tired shoulders. Much to his mother's disappointment, it wasn't long until George decided Anna was the one for him. The family of the girl that Veronica Baumann had lined up to marry her son, had a cow, and thus, the girl would bring a calf to the marriage. Anna's father on the other hand, was a lazy man, and Anna brought nothing. But George was determined.
After the wedding, George and Anna moved an extra bed into the kitchen at Anna's parents' house. Her mom appreciated Anna's help in the house and garden, and the prospect of another man to provide for his family suited Johann as well.
George landed a job for the village, driving the team of horses that pulled the mayor's carriage. The mayor's travel needs weren't great though, and most days, George stood in front of the church at dawn with all the other men and boys, each hoping the land-owning farmers would pick him when they came with their wagons looking for workers to bust their backs in the fields for the day. Each time George was picked, it put a pengoe or two in his pocket and every bit helped.
A year later, George and Anna's first child, little Theresa, was born. It wasn't long after that George heard about a landowner who was looking for a tenant to work his farm so he could move his own family into town where his children could attend school. With a roof over their heads and permission to raise a few of their own animals alongside the livestock they tended for the landlord, the young couple was set.
Relieved to be out of his in-laws' home, George worked hard. But it wasn't long before he began to resent being beholden to the rich farmer who owned the land. With dogged determination, he focused on ways to buy and fatten up one animal after another, envisioning the day he could move his little family into a house of their own.
CHAPTER FOUR
Elek, Hungary February 1929
If you were to look into the newspaper archives for Europe in the winter of 1929, you would find that February 10th of that year was the coldest night that had been recorded in Hungary in sixty years. The ground had frozen so hard that gaping cracks appeared, and Johann Bambach, being a miserly man, cursed angrily as his pocketknife fell from his frozen fingers and bounced into one of these cracks, never to be retrieved.
Inside Johann's little house, the midwife was preparing his 19-year-old daughter, Anna, for the arrival of her second child. Firewood had run out, and the meagre pile scrounged from the roadside and snapped from the frozen trees in the orchards under the cover of darkness, was the last resort to keep the little hut warm enough for Anna and the baby she was labouring to bring into the world. As the heat from the stove met the icy cold of the mud walls and ceiling, droplets formed. A blanket was draped awkwardly above the bed to catch the drops before they could land on the straining young woman.
"Thank you, Mama," Anna murmured as Maria Bambach tucked warm bricks into the bed so her daughter wouldn't catch a chill between contractions.
"Not long now, sweetheart. Stay strong," her mother replied to Anna with a kiss on her forehead. The night wore on and as the cold outside reached its sixty-year low, the pains came closer together, each worse than the last. As this child would prove time and time again throughout his life, he was not going to let the weather, or any other adverse conditions get in his way.
The cold snap began to ease the following morning. As the first weak rays of winter sun lit up the frosty windows, the midwife laid Anna's new son in her arms, just as she had done with little Theresa two years earlier in the same room. The connection between Anna and her baby boy began easily as he latched onto his mother and suckled hungrily.
By mid-week, with temperatures back to mid-winter norms, it was safe to remove the rolled-up towels from around doors and windows, and for George Baumann to collect his young wife, newborn son, and toddler daughter and take them back home to the little tenants' hut out on the farm.
Their son was baptized a few days later, on the first day of the Catholic Church Carnival, appropriate for such a happy occasion. The families of the young parents met at the church and looked on happily as the godparents strode up the aisle with the baby and placed him beside the tub of holy water. Solemnly, the priest performed the sacramental rite, giving grace to the soul of the baby boy, whose name was Adam.
CHAPTER FIVE
A son brought a sense of contentment to the little Baumann household. In six or seven years, Adam would be big enough to help around the farm, and George could begin passing on all of the things he'd learned about raising crops and livestock and providing for a family.
Little Adam's first challenge in life came at just a couple of months of age, when Anna weaned him. Planting season was coming and suckling a babe throughout the day would hinder her work. At first, she thought he just needed a day or two to adjust to cow's milk. But three days later, baby Adam was spitting up every time she fed him and he seemed to be losing weight. He even spit up the goat's milk they tried. Her own milk had dried up quickly, and Anna began to panic.
By the time a neighbour suggested sheep's milk, little Adam was gaunt. His non-stop crying had diminished to a feeble mewing sound. George raced to fetch some sheep's milk, and for the first time since drinking his own mother's milk, their baby son drank a couple of ounces and settled into a deep sleep. Within a couple of days, the colour returned to Adam's little cheeks. And so it happened that George headed off to the market to find and barter for a female sheep in its milking season.
A few short months after recovering from near starvation, Adam narrowly eluded death once more. Oblivious, he lay where Anna had placed him in the shade on the roadside while she foraged nearby, as a team of horses, spooked by the same ewe who had saved his life, careened by, the wheels of their wagon ripping across his blanket inches from his tiny body.
At two, he tumbled from the wagon bed onto the soft, freshly turned field as his unsuspecting parents continued on to the farmhouse, only to be found an hour or more later, toddling along in the right general direction.
Just as winter began to loosen her icy grip on Elek the next winter, three-year-old Adam fell ill with what the doctor called darm-katarrh. Healthy adults normally survived, the doctor explained, but with a toddler, they should be prepared for the worst. In those times, a case of gastroenteritis in rural Hungary was often a death sentence for young children and the elderly. Adam spent a week or more slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to eat or keep liquids down. Then, slowly, while his mother fed him tiny morsels of preserved fruit she'd walked miles from farm to farm to find so late in the season, he recovered.
Adam's life would be plagued by challenges much greater than those that dotted his earliest years. Some challenges he created, others history created for him.
But that first summer, they were happy, and as George and Anna toiled through the harvest, putting food by for the winter, they had no way of knowing, nor would they have cared that the great stock market of America had crashed. In Elek, things continued as usual. To the west, however, in the motherland, the economic crash brought crisis and created fertile ground for the radical ideas of a calculating man named Adolf Hitler. Just a few short years later, having saved enough for a tiny home of their own near the Gypsy neighbourhood in town, the family welcomed a second son whom they named George, unaware that Hitler, by then head of Germany's newly elected Nazi government, had just passed the Enabling Act, giving himself the powers of a dictator and in so doing, changing the course of their lives forever.
CHAPTER SIX
Christmas 1933
Adam could smell onions on his mom's hands as she leaned down and fastened the top button of his coat under his chin.
"Don't stand at the window so long this time," she said patiently. It
was December and the owners of the general store had been constructing a life-sized Christmas scene in the front window that had the children of Elek mesmerized. "When you start to feel cold, you tell Joe it's time to come home. You're almost five, and Joe's littler than you, so you need to take care of him."
The dirt floor and thick mud walls of the little kitchen held the chill of the winter air. They'd had a quick fire to warm their breakfast, but the dwindling pile of firewood on the porch together with the remaining sacks of husks and corn stalk roots they'd gathered in the fall had to last through the winter, and the stove wouldn't be stoked again until it was time to cook dinner. His dad was out shovelling snow for anyone who would pay. The best days were when someone paid with wood or a few lumps of coal.
Adam reached up impatiently and pushed at his woollen hat, which kept slipping down over his eyebrows. With a thumb sticking out of a hole in his mitten, he scratched at his itchy forehead. The hat and mittens were hand-me-downs from his cousin Uchie. His mom said he'd grow into them.
"Yes, Mama, I promise I'll bring Joe and come home," said Adam. A few days ago, they had stood in front of the display until one of the neighbours saw them and brought them home. Joe had cried when his fingers and nose warmed up enough to ache. Shoving his hat up again, Adam looked towards the door. Joe would be waiting outside. He'd make sure his friend didn't freeze this time.
"Okay, go." Anna smiled gently and stood up.
Flashing his mom a smile in return, Adam flew out the door into the sparkling winter air and leapt from the porch, landing solidly in the fresh powder. Sure enough, Joe was waiting in the snowy street, shuffling his feet. His face lit up like it always did when he saw Adam.
"C'mon!" Adam said excitedly, as Joe fell into step beside him.
The two little boys trekked hurriedly towards the train tracks, bundled in their winter layers. Across the tracks, Adam grabbed Joe's hand and led him toward the main street. Turning left, they stopped to wait as a horse drawn wagon rolled past, the rattle of the wheels muffled in the snow.
"Hurry Joe," Adam said as the sign above the door of the general store came into view. They picked up their pace. Last time, the old man who owned the store had been on his ladder inside the window case, adding to the display, and Adam couldn't wait to see it.
In front of the huge window, they stood motionless, gazing up.
"Look at the star, Adam," breathed Joe, his eyes as big as saucers.
Adam looked at the big sparkly star hanging in the pretend sky over the manger, then to the left and the right. Jesus' mom and dad were there with their donkey and the baby lying in the hay. The family's sheep were lying around them in the hay too. The best part was the three rich guys with their fancy dresses and shiny crowns full of jewels. Every time someone opened the front door of the store, the big star blew gently in the breeze. St. Nicholas stood over at one side with a sack over his shoulder. He hadn't been there last week. His coat and pants were better looking than what the real St. Nicholas had been wearing when Adam saw him at the church the other day. His real coat didn't have those nice buttons down the front, and his beard was a lot shorter in real life. Adam liked the one in the window better, with his big smile and shiny boots.
Theresa had said that St. Nicholas would bring them treats, and Adam had been excited. But when St. Nicholas came into the church, he wasn't smiling.
"Ho, Ho, Ho! Have you been good all year?" he'd demanded of Adam, then looked expectantly at Adam's mom and dad.
His mom had said yes, but his dad hadn't answered.
"You must listen to your parents and never ever disobey or deceive them. I want you to say a prayer to the Holy Father and promise that you'll be a good boy next year. Do you think you can be a good boy?"
Adam had nodded silently, not taking his eyes off the old man. Then he knelt and prayed his very best, promising God and St. Nicholas that he would be good. He'd done what they all expected apparently, since St. Nicholas didn't talk to him any further. And the little bag of nuts and dried fruit had tasted delicious.
Adam realized with a start that he was cold and looked anxiously down at Joe. His little friend was staring happily into the display, big eyes filled with wonder. His nose was running and smeared across his pudgy cheek where he'd wiped it with his sleeve.
"Come on Joe, we have to go home and warm up," he said with authority, grabbing Joe firmly by the hand.
"Okay, Adam," came Joe's ready response, as he gazed trustingly up at Adam. Adam smiled happily as they began the trek home.
He might not have quite grasped it yet, being only four years old, but Joe's trust stirred something in Adam. When Joe's mom came over to talk to him late the following summer and asked him to look after Joe on the walk to and from kindergarten, he was only too happy to help. From that point on, Adam understood that some people need a little help in life and it's the responsibility of the ones who don't, to give it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Early Summer 1935
Kindergarten was almost finished, and the streets of Elek were muddy with the spring melt. Adam and Joe laughed as they raced across the tracks and headed into their street.
"Hey, Joe!" Adam yelled as he jumped and landed in a puddle as hard as he could.
"Oh yeah?" laughed Joe as he hopped into the puddle beside Adam, soaking them both a little bit more. Giggling, Joe ran ahead towards his gate, narrowly escaping the next splash.
"See you tomorrow," said Adam as Joe opened his gate and Adam turned to head into his own yard.
Mr. Fuchs' bicycle was leaning against the porch. Adam raced to the porch and leapt up the steps, then slammed open the door and wheeled around the corner into the kitchen.
"Is Resi home?" he demanded, using his sister Theresa's nickname. He looked around excitedly.
His dad was sitting at the kitchen table, while his mom stood at the stove stirring a pan. The air smelled like onions and bacon. Both his parents turned as he burst into the room.
"No, Adam," his mom responded quickly. "Dad had to leave her at the eye hospital for a while longer. Your dad's tired after riding all that way. Why don't you take George and go out and play in the yard?"
Poor Resi! The sickness in her eyes that had started last year had gotten worse. It stopped her from going to school and from doing anything fun, and now she couldn't even come home most of the time. She'd hardly been home at all since Christmas and Adam missed her dreadfully. Dad was always working extra for Mr. Fuchs so he could borrow the bicycle to pedal to the hospital to visit her and talk to the doctors, and every time they hoped he'd bring her home. Adam had asked a couple of times if he could go along, but his mom and dad said it was 80 kilometres, too far for his dad to double him on the bike.
Heavy with disappointment, Adam turned to where George was sitting on the floor with his little fist in his mouth, spittle running down his chin and chest.
Just as he was about to pick up his little brother, Adam's dad turned and took a good look at him. "What the hell happened to you?" he demanded. "Look at you. Now your mother will have to scrub the mud from those trousers. Don't you think she has enough work? Did you crawl home or just roll in every puddle?"
Standing and striding to where Adam had stopped in his tracks, his dad reached down and grabbed him by the back of his pants and lifted him off the floor. "It's about time you learned a lesson. I'll teach you to fool around and make a goddam mess when you should be coming straight home," he sputtered as he headed out the front door and down the steps towards the wood pile, Adam swinging along in midair at his side.
Suddenly there was a loud ripping sound and Adam tumbled to the ground. He looked up at the tatters of his worn pants in his father's big hand.
"What the hell?" his dad yelled. A string of Romanian cuss words followed. Adam cowered. He'd felt the sting of his dad's temper the first time when he was three, after he'd eaten the Christmas candies and rehung the empty wrappers from the branches. But this time his dad started to laugh.
That night in bed, Adam was still thinking about his sister. He wondered for the millionth time if she was lonely at the hospital all by herself. Dad had said there were other kids there, even some as little as George, getting their eyes fixed. So maybe she wasn't lonely. He rolled over again. He didn't want to go to sleep yet. It was boring lying there. After staring around for a few more minutes, Adam slipped out from under the blanket and tiptoed into the kitchen where his mom and dad sat at the table talking quietly. His dad's back was towards him.
"I'm still thirsty," he said quietly.
"Adam, what did I tell you?" his dad's voice was menacing as he turned around and stood up. "You already had a drink." Before Adam could move, his dad had crossed the floor and swatted him across the head. "Now get back to bed and stay there!"
Back in bed, Adam rubbed his cheek. He was just thirsty. Nothing to get so mad about. After a few more tosses and turns he drifted to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The summer after kindergarten, the warden who guarded the vineyards that grew on town property died suddenly. The job came with a house. George Baumann quickly recognized the opportunity and applied for the job. A house meant they could rent out their little house and bring in a little extra money.
Adam had been a bit sad to be leaving little Joe. But Joe's mom said Joe knew the way to school well enough now, and Mama said there would be other kids to play with in the new neighbourhood. And best of all, the old warden's dog, Kave, came with the new house!