Requiem for a Gypsy

by Michael Genelin

  Jana didn’t like what she had just done. It might have been necessary, but it was ugly. There was an inhumanity to the process. She was embarrassed for Sipo and angry with herself. It all came down to how far you could go as a police officer. There is always a point in an interrogation when a police officer can take a step too far over the line; and although they had not beaten the man or used other, more draconian, coercive techniques, Jana felt that she had taken that step. Sipo was the kind of man who wouldn’t know much more anyway, because he wouldn’t have wanted to hear it. He would know that becoming aware of the wrong kind of information would be very dangerous to him.

  And they didn’t even really need to get the information from Sipo. They already had the information. The girl had supplied it. The girl was something of a liar, so Jana had simply needed to confirm her story.

  Time to leave Sipo alone.

  “Stand him up against the counter,” Jana ordered. Grzner and Seges propped him up against it as a support and stepped back quickly, afraid the man might fall and grab for them, getting urine on them in the process.

  “Let’s go.” Jana motioned toward the front door. She trailed behind the other two officers as they left, to check out Sipo one last time. Acutely conscious about what he had done, and how he looked, he turned away, vainly hoping to conceal his urine-stained trousers.

  Feeling sorry for him, Jana decided to give Sipo a parting message.

  “Any man who leaves you this frightened isn’t one you want to hang around with, Sipo. Men like that kill folks, or worse. Who knows, Sipo? You might be next on his list. If you need help from me, call.” That possibility, given the circumstances, was very real. “Do you understand, Sipo?”

  Sipo nodded.

  Jana walked out, finding herself surprisingly discomfited.

  Jana went over the names of the men, besides Sipo, at the meeting. The Turk? Was Sipo afraid of the Turk? It wasn’t the Turk that Sipo was afraid of. Nor was it Akso or Balder. No. He’d given all their names up to get the officers off his back. Sipo was afraid of someone else.

  The other man at the meeting.

  Chapter 13

  Years ago, when Jana was a young teenager, the Young Communist League group that her mother led had gone to see the Slavin War Memorial. It was a trip that they took at least once a year, to show the world how much they appreciated the help their brother Slavs had given Slovakia when the Nazis had occupied their country. On this outing, as on the other outings that her mother led, Jana and Sofia, her best friend, stayed as far away from Jana’s mother as possible. Past experience had shown Jana that it was best to avoid her mother at events like this, because her party fanaticism always got the better of her.

  That day, Jana’s mother kept up an active verbal exchange with the Communist youths throughout the bus ride. She kept up a barrage of commentary, simultaneously questioning members of the consomol group on what she had been “teaching.” This trip had already proved hard enough for Jana. Her mother had a favorite target to focus on when she was teaching: Jana. It had been impossible, on the bus, with her mother patrolling up and down the aisle, to avoid the question-and-answer game her mother was playing.

  “And why are we glad to be allied to the Soviet Union?” Jana’s mother pointed to her. It was Jana’s signal to give the answer she had learned by rote from her mother.

  “Because they are the leaders of the progressive forces in the world. We are in conflict with the reactionary groupings that seek to subvert our homeland, and we can rely on the leadership, protection, and partnership of the Soviet Socialist Republics. We are one!” At her mother’s urging, all of the other kids on the bus would begin to chant, “We are one! We are one! We are one!” Her mother beamed at the group, the young Communists validating her own “patriotism” and her local Communist Party work, which were driving forces in her life. She was happy because she was influencing the next generation of party faithful.

  Everything was fine until Jana’s mother started on her next round of proselytizing, popping questions and prompting other young Communists, preparing to focus on Jana again. “And what happened yesterday in Prague is an example of the anti-democratic forces still at work in our country. The attempt to hold a demonstration in our capital city, a disturbance which attempted to vilify the beneficial presence of our Soviet brothers, is a forceful example of the continuing attempts to undermine our unity of purpose and collective strength. Why do you think these people would do such a thing?”

  Jana’s mother looked around, hoping to find a volunteer. Finding none, she turned to Jana. “We all know that these hooligans are troublemakers. Why were they intent on doing the damage they did in Wenceslas Square?”

  Jana had heard that there was a demonstration in Prague, but she knew nothing about the particulars. “I don’t know much about it, Mother.”

  “I am called ‘Comrade’ here, Jana,” her mother reminded her.

  “Comrade Mother,” Jana corrected herself.

  “Then let me tell you all about it,” her mother said, her voice going up a notch in volume so she could be sure it would reach all the children. “Unauthorized, non-permitted, lackey elements of the Fascists in Western Europe and America gathered and marched up Vaclavske Namesti to the great statue of Wenceslas near the National Museum. They carried signs and chanted terrible slogans. Warmongers shrieked for action against our government and our allies, even calling for us to withdraw from the Warsaw Pact, a symbol of the union between brother nations. They lit a bonfire and fought our police when they were quietly asked to leave the square in peace. Why would they do that, Jana?”

  “Fight the police?”

  “That, and everything else they did.”

  “I heard a student burned himself to death the other day.”

  The children made sounds of recognition. Everyone had heard about that.

  Jana’s mother was angry at the student who had deliberately burned himself to death to protest the Communist regime, not because he had chosen to martyr himself but because he’d attacked the government she had invested so much of her time, energy, and hope in. “And who here thinks that burning yourself to death in some bizarre and deranged protest is the way to help our country?”

  There was silence as the kids stared at each other, shaking their heads. None of them could conceive of burning themselves to death, no matter what the issue was.

  “Part of the fanatic behavior that the enemies of the state all exhibit. It shows how misguided they are and why the police have to take action against them. We cannot let our country descend into chaos or let criminal elements corrode people’s minds.”

  There was a general murmur of approval.

  “Do you agree, Jana?” her mother asked her pointedly.

  “Of course, Comrade Mother.”

  “And the police were correct in clearing the streets of that trash when they marched?”

  “I believe so, Comrade Mother.”

  Jana’s mother looked her over, thinking that she had heard a doubt in her daughter’s statement.

  “Are you sure, Jana?”

  Jana thought about her answer, aware that she had better say something that her mother would approve of. She made her voice as firm and assured as she could. “Whenever the public does an act that threatens the general well-being of the nation, then it is the responsibility of the police to discharge their duty.”

  “Good,” said her mother, satisfied.

  When the bus stopped and the Young Communist League group went outside, Jana retreated to the back of the crowd with her friend Sofia.

  “Your mother is very strong,” said Sofia.

  “She’s a caring person,” Jana affirmed, deliberately misreading Sofia’s meaning.

  “Does she always talk about Communism at home?” Sofia wanted to know.

  “She talks about the things that all mothers talk about,” Jana assured her.

  “And socialism too?” Sofia probed. “Perhaps most of the time?”


  “Of course,” Jana said, not quite liking what her friend was suggesting. “But she loves our family.”

  “Not like she acts here?”

  “She’s my mother,” Jana insisted, “and she acts like all mothers do with their families.”

  “Good,” Sofia mouthed, not quite believing it.

  They reached the monument to the Russian dead who had fallen in their assault on the Nazis defending Bratislava. The first thing the group saw was the central memorial hall, its high obelisk topped with a statue of a Soviet soldier looming over everything; then the mass graves with the six thousand Russian soldiers interred in them. Then they saw the people carrying placards marching in front of the monument.

  It was an unexpected shock. The placards read: RUSSIANS GET OUT, FREE CZECHOSLOVAKIA, and END THE OPPRESSION, and the eight or ten demonstrators were all young, enthusiastically shouting anti-Communist slogans. They were all of college age, looking like everyone’s older brother or sister, so it was easy for the group of young Communists to relate to them.

  Suddenly, a group of twenty or thirty police officers appeared. Without any provocation or any apparent order being given, they charged the group of demonstrators, clubbing them, pulling them to the ground, dragging them to waiting vans and slinging them inside, totally ignoring the demonstrators’ pleas for the police officers to stop.

  Without realizing that she was doing it, Jana began walking to the front of the Young Communist League group, her steps quickening, propelled by some inner drive to stop the beatings. She screamed at the police to stop, her pace increasing to a trot, when she was abruptly grabbed from behind. Her mother held her by the hair and then twisted her around by her arm, pushing her back toward their group.

  “What are you doing?” she half screamed in Jana’s ear. “Those are police. They are doing their job. Stay away from them.”

  “They’re hurting those people,” Jana managed to get out.

  “That’s the fault of the demonstrators,” her mother growled, her anger at Jana’s action driving her to twist her daughter’s arm even more.

  “They shouldn’t be clubbing them, Mother.” Jana began crying, not sure if she was crying because her mother was hurting her or because she was upset at what was being done to the protestors.

  When they got back to the Young Communist League group, Jana’s mother released her just as one of the protestors, attempting to escape from the police, dashed past them, only to be caught by the pursuing officers. The officers systematically began to beat him. The group of young people in Jana’s group started screaming in terror, crying and hugging each other for protection. Jana tried to pull away from her mother to help her fellow student— as she thought of the young man being pounded by the officers’ clubs—only to have her mother tighten her grip.

  The young man was beaten to the ground and two of the officers, one holding each leg, dragged him away. The young man’s head bumped along the ground from stone to stone, and Jana wondered how his skull could stay in one piece, picturing it fragmenting into shards at any moment, like a dropped egg. The youth’s eyes popped open, and for a brief second Jana thought he was conscious enough to exchange a glance with her. “Why has this happened to me?” he seemed to be asking. Jana had no answer for him.

  All she knew, despite her mother’s arguments, was that the police had savagely maltreated innocent people, particularly this one human being, and there was no excuse for it.

  Chapter 14

  Jana walked to the car where Jonas was sitting with Em. The girl got out as Jana approached. She was jumping with excitement. “What I said was the truth, wasn’t it? Next time you won’t doubt me.”

  “Yes, I will.” Jana’s voice was firm. “I doubt everything little girls tell me. I was a girl once, and I know they mix lies and facts together when it suits their purpose. And you, Em, have a purpose.”

  Em stopped dancing around and stared up at Jana. “What purpose could I possibly have in lying to you?”

  “Are you saying you would never lie to me?” Jana paused, letting the question sink in. “Never?”

  “Everybody lies sometimes,” Em reluctantly acknowledged.

  “So how would I know you were telling the whole truth unless I checked? To make both of us less uneasy, and to make sure that I don’t waste police resources, I’m informing you now that I will always check everything you tell me.”

  Em caught a hint of mockery in Jana’s tone. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “A little bit.”

  “Why?”

  “You didn’t tell me the whole truth about one of the men who talked to Sipo.”

  Em frowned, her nose and mouth wrinkling up as if she had just been placed in close proximity to something distasteful.

  “Am I right, Em?” Jana inquired, watching the girl, waiting to see how she would react.

  Em shrugged, neither afraid nor embarrassed that she’d been caught for having presented a slightly distorted version of the facts. “Okay, so he wasn’t a Jew; he was a Turk. Everybody blames the Jews, so what’s the harm?”

  “You harmed yourself. You have to understand that now, at this moment, I can’t completely trust you. To give me back that confidence that I’ve lost in you, you’ll have to tell me who the other man was as well.”

  Em looked up at the police officers now surrounding her, then waved her hand in a gesture of agreement. Then she began to nod enthusiastically as if she’d come up with an idea. “First we have to make another bargain.” She giggled. “It’s only fair.” Em pointed to one of Jana’s ears. “Besides, you’re wearing my earrings, and I need to be paid.”

  Jana had put the earrings on that morning. The three other officers stared at her as if the earrings were alien bugs that had just hopped out of nowhere to nest on her earlobes. Jana was somewhat unnerved at the scrutiny.

  “You gave me the earrings because I rescued you from the snowstorm,” Jana reminded Em.

  “I paid you back with the information I gave you.”

  “You gave me the information because you wanted to stay out of the state welfare home. That was the payment.” Both of them were raising their voices, arguing.

  “You don’t seem to be grateful at all that I gave you the information,” Em said.

  “I’ve told you I’m grateful; grateful for the correct information.”

  “You’re certainly not showing it.”

  Before she really started shouting, Jana realized that she was quarreling with a teenager. It was not an appropriate thing for a commander of police to be doing. It was also not very adult. Jana lowered her voice and made a conscious effort to take the edge off, trying to sound reasonable.

  “We have to be candid with each other, Em. Belief is based on trust. I trusted you. And you trusted me. To keep that mutual trust, you have to complete the rest of your agreement: identify the other man.”

  Em didn’t like the idea. She turned and stalked back to the police vehicle, climbed into the rear seat, and, looking straight ahead, ignored everyone. Jana waited a moment to let the girl cool down, then went over to the car, got in the front seat, and turned around to face Em. She wanted information; Em had it. A little compromise was in order.

  “You wanted to make another bargain?” Jana said. “Tell me what it is. I’ll decide if I want to accept the terms.”

  Em remained stiff in her seat, her lips tightly closed. Jana lowered her voice even more, trying to soothe whatever raw feelings the girl had suffered in their brief tiff. “I’m giving us another chance to make a bargain. Both of us lose if we don’t. If, however, you want to make a contract between the two of us, you’ll have to decide to keep all the terms. No leaving anything out. We tell each other everything. Agreed?”

  Em didn’t move for another few seconds; then she flashed a smile. “Agreed.”

  “Good.”

  “All I want is for you to take me to the clothing stores on Obchodna.”

  “Clothing stores?”

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p; “I have a list of places, up here.” She pointed to her head. “I’m not having much success selling door to door. Besides, it’s freezing at this time of year. So I’ve been scouting which places might take my earrings. The jewelry stores don’t like my kind of stuff; the ladies’ clothing stores should. Women always want the little things that go with their purchases, but nothing too expensive. The earrings I make are perfect. Cheap, but nice. Except the store owners won’t buy from me because of my age. They don’t think I’ll come through with their orders. If you come along to reassure them, they’ll buy.”

  Jana shook her head in disagreement. “Not good. I’m in uniform. I’d be using my official position to help you. I can’t do that.”

  “I didn’t ask you to help me: I only asked you to come with me. You don’t even have to stand next to me, and I’ll never mention you.”

  “They’ll know I’m with you.”

  “So what?” Em shifted impatiently in her seat. “You get what you want; I get what I want. I’m not doing anything illegal; you’re not doing anything illegal. And, at the end of it, I take you to the man you want.”

  Jana reconsidered her reluctance to go with Em. Say she went into the stores with the child. It wasn’t as if she’d be asking for graft. Besides, the greater good would be served by getting the girl to truthfully identify the fifth man included in the talk with Sipo. It was just a tradeoff. Still, it was irritating for Jana to be bargaining with a young teenager and, worse, to feel like she had in some way come out second-best in the bargaining process.

  “An agreement, then,” Jana consented.

  The two of them sealed their bargain with a handshake. They went to six locations in the Obchodna business district, the other police officers waiting in their cars as Jana and Em both went into the stores together. As soon as they entered, Jana would wander off to look at the clothes, the clerks and the managers all eyeing her, knowing she was there with Em, all of them giving the girl orders for her earrings. It was a cheap price for them to pay for the future goodwill of the police. Jana had to tell herself that the businesspeople were suffering no loss, and in fact they would eventually make a profit for themselves by reselling the earrings at retail prices.