My Holocaust Story: Hanna

by Goldie Alexander

  Adam was desperate to bring his violin. Papa didn’t think it a good idea. He said, ‘You’ll want to play it, and this will attract too much attention.’

  Adam got so cross he went to his room where he kept playing the same tune over and over until we nearly went mad.

  At least I didn’t have to pack anything in order to practise gymnastics. I was sure I could find a place to swing from, or something to vault over. I could work on my floor exercises. My pockets also fitted a hankie, my charm bracelet, my gymnastic ribbon, a miniature pack of cards, and, most importantly, my silver rabbit and Eva’s note.

  I was allowed to pack one warm singlet, two pairs of underpants, two pairs of socks, one lot of warm stockings, one nightgown, and one book into one of the suitcases.

  I spent ages deciding which book to take. I had read all of the books Panna Mislowski had given me except Baroness Orczy’s The Scarlet Pimpernel. I wasn’t sure if I should take that, or bring an old favourite. I didn’t want to take something too short. Who knew how long might we be hiding on the farm?

  I looked at the jacket: ‘In 1792, the French Revolution has turned into a Reign of Terror. The streets of Paris are filled with unruly mobs, threatening the aristocracy with death by Madame Guillotine. Their only hope is the dashing Scarlet Pimpernel, a mysterious saviour who whisks the persecuted men, women and children out of danger and across the English Channel to safety. But who could the Scarlet Pimpernel be? A thorn to the French authorities, a rose to all else, no-one admires him more than Marguerite Blakeney. The Pimpernel is the exact opposite of her silly husband, the foppish Sir Percy.’

  Panna Mislowski had chosen well. I placed the book in the suitcase.

  Mama had bought a packet of bleach to dye our hair. One by one she led us to the bathroom to spread bleach over our heads. That bleach was so strong, it stung my eyes and my nostrils. But I stayed as still as I could. Mama washed my hair and called Adam in.

  I looked in the mirror. I had thought that my hair might now be the colour of sunlight like the other blonde girls I knew. It wasn’t. It was pale orange. I thought it looked strange against my olive skin. I stared at my reflection in dismay.

  ‘Strawberry blonde!’ Mama did her best to sound kind. ‘Just like Ginger Rogers!’

  Ginger Rogers was my favourite movie star. She danced like an angel. When I practised my floor routines in gymnastics class, I imagined myself twirling round just as she did with Fred Astaire, elegant and graceful.

  ‘But Ginger Rogers is a proper blonde, isn’t she Mama?’

  ‘Nonsense! Why do you think she’s called Ginger?’

  Andre was due to pick us up at sunrise. We had to get to the other side of Otwock and to Elza’s mother’s farm before dark. The Germans had placed a curfew on Warsaw and anyone found on the streets or roads at night was shot.

  It was still dark when Papa woke us. Mama had already told me what to wear. I put on my warmest frock, though I hated wearing it because the wool prickled, woollen stockings, thick sweater, knitted cap, winter coat and boots. It felt like I was setting off for the Arctic.

  Once everyone was ready, we trooped into the kitchen. Mama gave each of us a little bread and cheese, but I couldn’t eat. No-one could.

  We waited for dawn and the sound of a horse and cart.

  We heard trams and cars roar and rattle past our house. Voices told us pedestrians were passing by. Some, we knew, had to be soldiers. Footsteps came down the side alley that led into ours. We froze. The footsteps continued past us and faded away.

  Ryzia was grizzling, desperate to run around. But Papa held her tight.

  By now it was daylight.

  ‘Shhhhhhhh!’ I said to Ryzia. I was sure I could hear the clip clop of hooves over cobblestones and the rattle of cart wheels. Papa went toward the window and I followed.

  The most tired horse I’d ever seen—all skin and ribs, his mane and tail dusty and raggedy as if they’d never been brushed—was pulling a dilapidated cart. It stopped outside our back door.

  Elza hurried outside, while we hid in the kitchen in case it was a trap.

  She returned, whispering, ‘Hurry, hurry … hardly any time.’

  We stepped out into the alley. Andre said nothing but nodded at Papa. Papa handed him a package. I supposed that was the money he was promised.

  Mama climbed onto the back of the cart first, and held out her arms for Ryzia. Papa handed her to Mama as I climbed up. Papa hoisted Adam onto the cart. ‘Lie down! Quickly!’ Elza said in an urgent whisper.

  I burrowed under the hay. It stank of animal droppings, but it was dry. Papa climbed up too, and lay down on the other side of Adam, putting his arm protectively around him. Andre spread more hay over us as Elza kept watch. So far, no-one had seen us.

  I felt the weight of the hay as it was piled over me. It became hard to breathe, and with my finger I made a small tunnel through the hay to let in air. I kept my eyes closed. I couldn’t see anything anyway, and the hay and the droppings were making my eyes itch.

  The cart began to move. I lay as still as I could, comforting myself by listening to the rhythm of the horse’s hooves clopping down the laneway. And then the sound slowed as Andre manoeuvred the cart into the main street. It was a tricky turn, and as the heavy cart banged into the corner of a building, it lurched, and so did I, hitting my head against the hard wood beneath me. I felt a lump begin to form, but I bit my lip and didn’t make a sound.

  Ryzia began to wail. Adam and I were old enough to know what was going on and what was at stake. She was just a baby. We had no way of making her understand that it was important to be quiet.

  She was now crying so loudly, we thought she might wake the entire neighbourhood. Elza jumped off her seat at the front of the cart and took Ryzia from Mama’s arms. Luckily, there was no-one about to see her or hear us. Elza cradled the baby against a chest as comforting as a bolster; and with Elza’s familiar smell, Ryzia settled and then, exhausted, fell asleep.

  Very slowly the horse and cart continued along the road that led east. Papa, Mama, Adam and I continued to lie still, not making a sound. We reached the outskirts of the city. The cart came to a stop. I could hear voices, German voices, talking to Andre.

  ‘Where are you going?’ a man asked. He didn’t sound too interested in knowing the answer. It must be a question he had to ask all passing vehicles.

  ‘Home,’ answered Andre. ‘I have just delivered my stock to market.’

  ‘That explained the stench then,’ answered the first voice.

  Another man said. ‘I’ve seen you before.’

  ‘Yes,’ Andre answered. ‘I come this way with my livestock every so often.’

  ‘Don’t recognise the kid though. Yours? Doesn’t look a bit like you with that orange hair. You sure you’re not a carrot farmer?’

  The soldiers were laughing. It was awful hearing them make fun of Ryzia, but at least they didn’t sound suspicious.

  ‘She’s my niece.’ It was Elza’s voice. ‘Takes after her father. He’s just the same—a real carrot top.’

  ‘Poor kid,’ replied the first soldier. ‘Well, off you go. Take that stinking cart away from here as fast as you can.’

  Papa had been right. That smelly manure did indeed help us.

  It took the rest of the day to get to Anya’s mother’s farm. We had to pass through Otwock, go through the town and out again, to get there.

  I could hardly believe the relief when the cart finally stopped. My bones ached, my eyes and nose itched, and I was parched. But we had made it.

  I climbed out and stretched my cramped limbs. I took in gulps of clean, fresh air.

  Only then did I look around. We were at the end of a small drive leading to the farmhouse. Next to it was a barn.

  It was still autumn and the sky was filled with light fluffy clouds. Birds darted across the fields to catch insects that quivered above and around them. There were a few late-blooming flowers near the fence that led to the house. Just beyond a cl
ump of tall trees reached for the sky, their leaves already red and gold.

  Nothing here hinted of what was happening in Warsaw. Nothing here hinted of war. The countryside was beautiful.

  Andre continued up the road.

  ‘Thank you,’ Papa called after him.

  Andre didn’t call back.

  We walked quietly towards the farmhouse. Elza’s mother was not expecting us.

  Mama had said that she thought it very unlikely that an anti-Semitic old woman would be prepared to risk her life for Jews. But Elza had replied, ‘My mama is greedy for money. If Mr Kaminsky pays her enough, she will hide the devil himself. And she needs help. She is old and look around you. The farm needs work, a lot of work. She needs money and labour.’

  Elza was right. As we got closer to the farmhouse, it seemed less picturesque and more like it was about to crumble. The thatched roof of the house was high pitched so snow could slide off easily, but there were gaps in the thatching that needed repair. It looked as if it hadn’t been fixed in years. The barn door was swinging off its hinges. Everything needed a fresh coat of paint. The courtyard was thick with mud and the pond covered in slime. Two hens wandered around pecking in the mud searching for something to eat. I didn’t think they’d find much.

  Just then, the front door of the house opened. An old woman emerged. She held a fry pan over her head like she was ready to club us.

  Anya looked exactly like Elza, only the round face under the woollen scarf was more wrinkled. They both had the same blue eyes.

  ‘Mama,’ Elza said. ‘It’s me. Put down the pan. These are the Kaminskys.’

  Papa and Elza moved towards Anya. She looked small and old next to Papa. He towered over her.

  Anya was frowning. She didn’t seem the least bit pleased to see her daughter. Even less pleased to see us.

  Mama clutched Ryzia, and Adam and I stood behind her at some distance while Papa, Elza and Anya talked.

  Elza said, ‘Since Papa’s death you need my help to run the farm. You can’t do it on your own. Pan and Panna Kaminsky offer their help and they will also pay you to stay here. The loft is empty.’

  The old lady scowled at her daughter. ‘But what do I do if those Germans come looking around here? We’ll all be killed.’

  ‘The Kaminskys will stay hidden. And they can help with the farm work.’

  ‘How can they do this if they are hiding?’ Anya spat at her daughter.

  ‘Farm work can be done before dawn and at dusk. They can come out then to work. The rest of the time they can hide.’

  Anya grunted.

  ‘And I will help in the fields during the day,’ Elza quickly added. ‘No-one will suspect anything.’

  ‘How did you get here then?’

  ‘Andre brought us in his cart.’

  ‘Well, he knows, then. What if he decides to sell your secret? What’s in it for him not to?’

  ‘We have to trust him, Mama,’ Elza said. ‘We all do. We have no choice.’

  ‘Then you have given me no choice,’ Anya angrily cried.

  ‘The Nazis have given none of us any choice.’ Papa’s voice was soft.

  Adam suddenly began to sob, overcome with fear and exhaustion.

  Elza must have been able to feel something, because on seeing Adam cry, she stopped arguing and told Mama to take us inside.

  The house had only one large room, which served as kitchen, living room and bedroom. A large cast-iron stove down the far wall was used to cook on and warm the room. There was a table, a few chairs and a wooden sofa covered in homespun rugs and shawls. The bed was close to the stove.

  The fire in the stove was almost out. As we stood near it hoping to warm ourselves, we watched Elza heap twigs, coal and dried animal droppings inside it. Using bellows, she sent in more air to feed the flames.

  Anya had retreated to the bed. She sat there watching us in silence.

  Elza took no notice and went off to find water. She came back with two full buckets, two glasses and some very hard mouldy bread and cheese.

  As soon as Adam had something to drink and eat, he seemed to recover.

  Next, Elza led us up a small flight of rickety steps at the back of the room. She pushed open a door in the roof that led to the loft. The roof was low but pitched. Papa could stand up only in the centre. Mama also had to crouch most of the time. But for me, Adam and Ryzia it wasn’t so bad.

  ‘This is where you can live,’ Elza said. ‘It’s not much, but we’ll see what we can do.’

  There was no furniture, only a bunch of rags in one corner and some straw strewn around the floor.

  ‘We can do something with the things we’ve brought,’ Mama’s voice was hopeful. ‘Thank you, Elza.’

  If the attic was to be our home until the war was over, we knew we had to make the best of it.

  Mama took out the clothes we had brought, and we removed all our top layers. Elza and Mama fashioned some bedding out of straw, laying any extra clothes on top as blankets. Mama had brought her beautiful fur coat that her mother had bought for her in Paris. It was long and soft and had ruffles around the neck that kept out the coldest winds. She laid it on top and settled Ryzia into the comforting folds.

  ‘Get some rest,’ Elza said. ‘I will go talk to Mother.’

  We were so tired, we lay down on our makeshift beds. Adam and Ryzia fell asleep straight away. I dozed off listening to my parents whisper to each other. ‘We will be all right,’ Papa kept assuring Mama. ‘We will be all right, Miriam.’

  A rooster’s crow woke me just before dawn.

  I lay there, watching slants of light creep into a tiny space between the cottage wall and thatched roof beside my makeshift bed. I got up to look through it into the courtyard and even further towards the fields. I could also see light coming through smaller cracks at the other end of the loft. Crawling as quiet as a spider or an ant, I went to the widest crack and peered outside. From there I glimpsed trees, their leaves rustling and changing colour.

  Suddenly there was a tremendous clatter.

  My heart leapt into my mouth. Someone was coming upstairs!

  Had the Germans found us already? Had Elza’s mother reported us?

  Elza came in carrying two buckets.

  ‘Good morning,’ she sang. Seeing my startled look, and Papa and Mama rousing themselves, she explained, ‘We must start early on the farm, as I said. Mother will allow you to stay if you do all the morning and evening chores. You must do them before the sun rises too high.’

  Papa rubbed his eyes.

  Elza set the buckets down, saying to Mama, ‘One bucket is full of fresh water and the other is your lavatory.’

  Adam winced. ‘Do you mean we have to go to the toilet in a bucket?’

  ‘It’s the best we can do, for now,’ she said. ‘Never get the buckets confused. Does everyone realise how important this is?’

  We all nodded. Even Ryzia who was too little to understand.

  Elza turned to Papa. ‘Mr Kaminsky, I will use some of the money you gave me to buy livestock, a cow, perhaps a few pigs, and some poultry. We need to stack the hay and to collect what is left in the field to feed these new animals.’

  I sat up. ‘Can me and Adam help?’

  Elza looked doubtful. ‘Hanna, I’m not sure. Not today. Let’s first work out a safe routine. It is very dangerous for you to be seen.’

  ‘People might see Papa.’

  ‘Perhaps. So we make him look more like us,’ she suggested. ‘Mr Kaminsky, before you come downstairs, please shave your head and your moustache. I will give you my father’s old clothes.’

  Shaved, I hardly recognised him, he looked so strange. Papa’s new jacket and pants were threadbare and didn’t fit him well. But I think he was happy to be able to help in any way he could. Without Papa having had the foresight to hide cash and Mama’s jewellery before the Germans marched into Warsaw, we might never be here.

  The next few mornings and evenings Papa helped Elza store what was left of
the hay. He left the loft before sunrise and came back just after first light. At sunset he left again, returning later in the evening exhausted, his face and hands covered in grime, his fingernails rimmed with dirt.

  Other than Papa doing the chores, Elza had warned the rest of us not to go downstairs, not yet. We didn’t see or speak to Anya. Part of the bargain Elza and Papa had made with Anya was that we never bother her and that we remain hidden.

  After three days Elza allowed me and Adam to go downstairs.

  ‘If you are very quiet, you may sit by the stove.’

  Anya was already there. She didn’t look up. Her dog, Spotty, sat by her side. He had a black coat spotted with white freckles. He was old and half blind, but he seemed friendly enough. I put out my hand so he could sniff it. He licked my fingers, and I scratched behind his ears.

  Anya grunted at Spotty, so I sat down by the stove. I had brought my cards, and I began to play Patience. Adam watched for a while, and then we played together without speaking, balancing the cards against each other to build a house. It was the quietest thing we could think to do.

  The next morning Elza went to the market to get the animals she had mentioned. Papa’s money would be used to buy a cow, two pigs, four hens and three ducks. They were to live and sleep in the barn next to the house. Watching out for her return, I peered through the gap down to the courtyard.

  As soon as I glimpsed the animals, I couldn’t suppress a shriek of joy. Adam was nervous about having to be so near a cow, but I knew how placid they were.

  ‘I hope I don’t have to milk it,’ he whispered.

  ‘I hope I do!’ I cried.

  Even Mama, who doesn’t usually like being in close contact with animals, smiled. ‘Perhaps that could be your morning chore, Hanna.’

  I watched Elza take the animals into the barn. She came to the loft a few minutes later. ‘Mr Kaminsky, I wanted to buy a horse, but the Germans have taken every single one.’

  Papa blinked. ‘Why do we need a horse?’

  ‘Next spring,’ she explained. ‘A horse will help with the ploughing.’

  Mama’s smile disappeared. ‘Do you think we will still be here next spring?’