My Holocaust Story: Hanna

by Goldie Alexander

  She never took any notice. ‘Those idiots!’ she’d say and we’d walk to some place where they couldn’t bother us.

  Both Eva and I were good students. Eva was better at arithmetic, geometry and algebra, while my favourite subjects were geography, history, Polish, and of all things, German. Papa and Mama spoke German when they didn’t want me to understand, but I had picked up enough to know what they were saying.

  We both loved books. When we were young, Eva’s favourite was Alice in Wonderland, even though the book was originally written in English. I preferred Grimm’s Fairy Tales. As we got older I looked for books about history, books like Ben Hur. When war broke out, Eva was halfway through David Copperfield.

  Going to school and being with Eva again made everything feel almost normal.

  The Germans and the Russians took over Poland, dividing it between them. Our beautiful country was now occupied by not one, but two enemy armies.

  The Nazi-appointed Governor General, Hans Frank, issued a decree that all Jewish men, women and children over ten had to wear a white armband with a blue Star of David on it to identify them.

  I went looking for Zaida to ask, ‘Why? Are other people getting them too? Will Christians have to wear crosses?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, just us. We are being singled out. We’re no longer allowed to use public transport, go to cinemas and cafes, or you even to school.’ He sighed heavily and I caught a whiff of his cologne. He said, ‘They have told the Polish people to avoid Jewish-owned shops. That means our customers won’t be able to buy from us anymore.’

  I turned to Papa. ‘I don’t understand. What did we do wrong?’

  Papa shrugged. ‘Nothing, bubbala.’ This was his pet name for me. ‘You have to understand that for centuries bad governments have blamed certain groups of people for their problems. They use them as scapegoats.’

  I still couldn’t understand it. We were no different to anyone else. Why blame Jews for Germany’s financial troubles? Even I knew that losing the Great War, ten years before I was born, had made life difficult for the Germans. But it was hardly our fault.

  Papa said, ‘It’s a standard political ploy to create a common enemy. Making people afraid of others, helps keep a government in power. The government becomes the protector from the imagined threat, and that way it becomes even more powerful as people put their trust in them. That is what Herr Hitler is doing.’

  ‘I don’t mind missing school.’ Adam sounded quite cheerful. ‘But why do they want to take away our wireless? They must have lots of radios already. Why can’t we keep ours?’

  Since the invasion, I rarely saw either of my parent’s face soften into a smile. But now Papa managed a tiny one. ‘We are lucky in that we own two. That’s why I hid the smaller one at the back of the cellar.’

  Unlike Adam, I was very upset about not being allowed to go to school. ‘I was doing well,’ I wailed. ‘And now I’ll be behind in all my subjects. Other kids will still go, it’s so unfair.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure.’ Papa gave me a quick hug. ‘No children above grade four will be there. All classes will only teach counting up to five hundred, writing your name, and obedience to German honesty, industry and politeness.’ He gave me a Nazi salute, albeit a mocking one.

  I giggled.

  ‘It’s interesting,’ he mused half to himself, ‘how we have always admired everything German. We Poles have tried so very hard to be as German as possible, us Jews in particular … what a mistake that was.’

  ‘So …’ I frowned. ‘Does that mean no more study?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Hannale. You and Adam must continue your lessons. Some teachers dislike these rules as much as we do. Panna Mislowski is prepared to teach you. But in secret.’

  ‘I didn’t think Panna was Jewish.’

  ‘She’s not. She’s just a very brave woman.’

  ‘Does that mean we’ll go to her house?’

  He shook his head. ‘That would be too dangerous. Instead Panna has arranged another house for your lessons. Eva and Alex will also be going.’

  This was the best news I had heard for weeks.

  Adam and Alex were as chummy as me and Eva. Our two families had always been close. Their father, ‘Uncle’ Harry was always fun and ‘Aunty’ Zenia and Mama could have been sisters. What made me happiest was being with Eva. We had sworn that no matter what happened, we would always be best friends.

  Eva had given me a note on my birthday. She had written out the beautiful words of friendship from the Book of Ruth in the scriptures: ‘Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.’ We had also given each other good-luck charms that we carried everywhere. I gave Eva a tiny ivory elephant, and she gave me a silver rabbit with pointy ears.

  ‘Is it too much to ask about my gymnastics, Papa? Am I still allowed to enter competitions?’

  Papa shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, Bubbala. But no-one can stop you doing it for yourself.’

  Panna Mislowski’s secret school was six blocks away. Adam and I had to walk there. Not only did I have to wear the armband with the blue star, but we also had to carry identity documents.

  German soldiers patrolled the streets and they checked everyone’s papers. As we were Jewish, they could take us from the streets and send us away. We won’t even be allowed to say goodbye to our parents. We would be taken. Just like that.

  ‘If you see any soldiers, try to hide until they go past,’ were Papa’s careful instructions.

  Adam and I made our way through the streets. Many of the houses nearby had been bombed, and the roads were strewn with rubble. We climbed over fallen walls and realised how lucky we were that our house had survived the fighting.

  Elza followed me and Adam at some distance to make sure we were safe. We had walked four blocks without seeing any soldiers. But as we turned a corner, we saw two heading from the opposite direction.

  My heart leapt into my mouth. As they came closer, the taller one stared at my armband. I was sure he was about to stop us.

  Adam grabbed my hand. ‘Come on, Hanna, let’s go.’

  Elza rounded the corner behind us.

  ‘Good morning,’ she chirped at the soldiers, carefully steering their attention away from me and Adam to herself. We hurried down the road, hoping Elza wouldn’t be searched or questioned. But she wasn’t Jewish. If they checked her papers, they would probably leave her alone.

  Dear Elza. Always such a mensch.

  Panna Mislowski had got hold of a small blackboard and chalk and set up a schoolroom using a small table and a few rickety chairs. We wrote on old-fashioned slate boards, as pencils had become too valuable. Food was rationed and hard to find. We always took something for us to eat and also something for Panna. Usually a knob of bread, a scrap of cheese, a few pickled cucumbers. Sometimes a few slices of salted fish. How I longed for Elza’s chicken soup with dumplings. Saliva collected in my mouth remembering how good it was.

  Eva and I sat at the back of the room, while Alex and Adam were in front.

  Those two boys were always dreaming up some new prank. One time they snuck out to the street and banged loudly on the front door with a piece of wood. We got such a fright. We thought the Germans had found us. When we found out it was only Adam and Alex, you should have heard us yell. But I was glad of their silliness. It made the days seem brighter.

  Panna Mislowski used to teach Middle School science and mathematics so she taught us mostly those subjects. She also insisted that we improve our German. She said, ‘Knowing the language could save your life.’

  We didn’t have much of a chance to learn history or geography, but Panna urged us to read as much as we could for ourselves. She went to great efforts to find us lots of novels. ‘Books are full of inspiration,’ she said. ‘Especially in difficult times.’ She gave us copies of The Three Musketeers, Robinson Crusoe, The Swiss Family Robinson, Emil and the Detectives and The Scarlet Pimpernel.

>   Papa and Zaida stopped going to Kaminsky’s Emporium. There was no point. The shop’s windows were broken, with glass all over the pavement, horrid signs scrawled on the walls, all our stock was stolen, and, anyway, we were told we no longer owned it.

  Jews were ordered to deposit their money in blocked bank accounts. The bank could release no more than two-hundred-and-fifty zlotys per week.

  From being rich, we were now dirt poor. We could no longer afford to keep Elza as our housekeeper. She wasn’t Jewish, which meant she was no longer allowed to work for us, anyway.

  Mama suggested to Elza that she should go back to her family’s farm.

  Elza looked horrified. ‘Of course I won’t leave you,’ she said firmly. ‘You are my family. You have always been so good to me.’

  ‘But we can’t afford to pay you,’ Mama said sadly. ‘The shop is gone, and we have barely any money.’

  ‘I don’t want money. I won’t leave you just because things get hard.’

  ‘But if you’re caught working for us, you might be sent to prison or even—’ Mama tried to explain.

  Before she could continue, Elza drew herself up to her full five-foot-six. ‘No Nazi will tell me what to do.’ She seemed ready to take on the entire German army.

  Both women burst out crying and hugged each other tightly.

  The Germans kept issuing orders. We weren’t allowed to hear or play anything by the Polish composer, Chopin. We were only allowed to listen to German music and read German authors. All Communist and Jewish writers, actors and musicians were banned.

  Until the Germans invaded Poland, I had never thought much about being Jewish. Our family wasn’t religious, though we did celebrate the big Jewish holidays. As well as Chanukah and Rosh Hashanah—the Jewish New Year—we marked Passover, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. On those special days, Jewish people were not permitted to work, so Papa closed the Emporium and we spent the days together as a family. Sometimes we celebrated the end of Yom Kippur at an evening meal with the Lublinskis.

  Eva’s family were more religious than ours. Every Friday night, the eve of Shabbat, they had a special dinner and sometimes I was invited. I really enjoyed the rituals of lighting candles, blessing the sweet egg bread or challah, and tasting the kosher wine. Aunty Zenia always served a traditional meal of chopped liver, fish balls, chicken soup, roast chicken, vegetables and stewed fruit. Eva’s family kept a kosher Jewish kitchen, which meant meat and milk dishes were kept separate, they never ate pork or shellfish, and only bought meat from a Jewish butcher.

  Now Zaida and Papa spent their days visiting friends. They had a lot more time on their hands since the shop had closed. Papa often came home from these visits with news, good and bad, of what was happening in the war. So far, since Poland had surrendered, it didn’t seem much was going on. Only the German’s continual obsession with us Jews.

  More and more people were vanishing. Papa’s friend Pan Silverman and his family were among those who had disappeared. We had heard rumours that some people were being sent to labour camps where they were forced to work for the Germans in their war efforts. We heard other rumours that they were being shot.

  I tried not to think about it. But then Zaida went out one morning and never came home.

  Even though Mama and Papa were always kind and good, no-one else was able to comfort me the same way as my grandfather. Now, because he had gone, I needed comforting more than ever. But he wasn’t there.

  I cried for him every day. The lump in my throat refused to go away. For a long time I found it too hard to swallow and I barely ate. Mama got worried. She kept saying, ‘The last thing Zaida will want is for you to get sick.’

  These days there was never enough food to go round. Papa had the small amount of money he was allowed to take from his savings at the bank. But it was never enough.

  He had already traded his gold watch, cufflinks, wedding ring and some of Mama’s jewellery for bread, sausage and a few vegetables. We celebrated Adam’s eighth birthday with a cake made from one egg, some oil, a little flour and a tiny amount of sugar. Mama’s favourite pearl earrings were swapped for those ingredients.

  Life in Warsaw was getting harder. Each day I felt Zaida’s absence more strongly. He used to wait for me to come home from school to talk about what I’d learnt. Now, every time I came home, his loss hit me again and again.

  ‘Can’t we still try to find him?’ I begged Papa before I left for Panna Mislowski’s school.

  His face crumpled as he showed his loss and pain. ‘We looked everywhere. What else can we do?’

  He was right. There was nothing we could do that we hadn’t tried already. No-one knew anything.

  ‘Be careful on your way to school today, Bubbala.’ Papa hugged me and Adam goodbye. ‘Adam, you must look after your sister.’

  ‘We will look after each other, Papa. I promise.’

  ‘And I’ll look after both,’ Elza chimed in. ‘Off we go.’

  As always, Elza followed from behind, watching us until we safely arrived in Panna’s street. Then, before she continued on, she checked that we were inside the house.

  ‘Good morning, Panna,’ was our usual greeting. I went into the kitchen to leave the food we’d brought. Today, we had a large loaf of bread. It was stale, but there was even enough for Eva and Alex.

  We waited in the schoolroom for them to arrive. After an hour, they still hadn’t turned up. Panna started to worry. ‘Continue your reading,’ she said trying to calm our anxiety. ‘I’m sure they won’t be long.’

  But Eva and Alex didn’t arrive. At lunchtime, I wanted to walk to their house to see where they were.

  ‘No, Hanna,’ Panna said firmly. ‘I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. I can’t let you out on your own.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Adam cried.

  ‘No,’ Panna repeated. ‘But perhaps it’s best if you go home early today.’

  I took out the note that Eva had given me and re-read it. ‘Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay …’

  Oh where, oh where was she?

  After the Lublinskis’ disappearance, Papa decided we must leave Warsaw. ‘It’s not going to be simple,’ he said. ‘No other country is willing to accept us.’

  ‘I told you we should have gone to Paris,’ Mama kept repeating.

  ‘What makes you think the French are any different?’

  ‘They might have accepted us if we’d not left things so late,’ Mama reminded him.

  Papa didn’t answer.

  The next day he called me and Adam into the dining room. ‘Elza has suggested we go to the country. To her mother’s house.’

  I gulped. I had always thought Elza’s family had been unkind to her. I didn’t think her mother would want to help us.

  Mama said, ‘Elza has received a letter from her mother saying she has had an accident. Since Elza’s father died, her mother has been running the farm on her own. Now she needs help. Elza thinks that if we offer to help her mother with the chores, maybe she will hide us in return.’

  ‘Won’t the Germans find us there?’ Adam asked.

  ‘How will we get there?’ I wanted to know. ‘Jews aren’t allowed to catch trains.’

  Papa nodded. ‘You’re right. Jews aren’t allowed to leave Warsaw. If the Germans catch us, that will be our death sentence. But if we stay here, who knows what will happen. The Lublinkskis … Zaida …’ His voice, brittle with sorrow, trailed away.

  Mama squeezed his hand and turned to us. ‘Papa and Elza have had an idea.’ Her smile encouraged Papa to continue.

  He roused himself and said, ‘Elza met her old neighbour Andre in the market yesterday. He has a horse and cart that he uses to carry pigs and sheep into town to sell. If we give him some money, he is prepared to hide us in his cart and take us back to Elza’s mother’s farm.’

  ‘Can we trust him?’ I asked.

  ‘We have no other choice.’

  Father called Elza into the dining
room to join us.

  She smiled at us reassuringly. ‘It’s all organised,’ blue eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘After Andre leaves his pigs at the market, he will come to the alley that runs by the back door. We must be waiting for him, and ready to climb onto his wagon. He will use the animals’ straw to hide you. It won’t be very comfortable, but I’m sure you can manage.’

  ‘Elza will sit beside Andre,’ Papa added. ‘If any Germans want to inspect Andre’s cart, Elza will try to stop them. There will be manure from the animals in the cart. The smell should put them off.’

  I screwed up my nose. ‘We have to lie down on stinky manure?’

  ‘Better a bad smell than stay here, bubbala,’ Mama said. ‘I know you will be brave.’

  ‘How come Andre is prepared to help us?’ Adam asked. We all knew that if we were caught, he could also be shot.

  ‘He needs the money,’ Elza explained. ‘He wastes all his money gambling and he owes a lot to some thugs. He says they have threatened to kill him if he doesn’t pay up.’

  ‘But we don’t have any more money, do we, Papa?’

  ‘I still have some hidden for a rainy day.’ He gave a sad smile. ‘And it seems the Nazis have brought us a thunderstorm.’

  Leaving Warsaw meant loads of careful planning. We were to leave in two days.

  Mama stared around in despair. ‘What do we take?’

  ‘Only what fits in two small suitcases.’ Papa’s voice brooked no argument.

  Mama surveyed her surroundings. Our house was filled with things collected for over sixty years by generations of Kaminskys. There were paintings, sculptures and silverware—cutlery, samovars, tea and coffee sets—beautiful furniture and rugs. We knew that once the word got out that the house was empty, our doors would be smashed in and everything stolen.