A TIME TO BE BORN
A tale of survival and recovery.
Written by Yehiel Grenimann
1. Yanosh and Eva:
The old oak tree in Pilsudski square, Warsaw, provided them with privacy. It stood there in the square, house-like in its immensity, its thick branches crowned with a safe canopy of leaves . Agile ones would climb up into their haven, whispering secrets, telling jokes, teasing those below. Brave boys hung from them shouting, imitating Tarzan. As evening approached it grew colder and became a quiet spot.
It was there that Yanosh and Eva would meet after school. He was learning in a Polish state high school, she in the Peretz Yiddish school. His parents did not approve of the relationship, neither did hers. They were "too young". She was too politically radical and too "Jewish" for them; he from too assimilated a family, lacking Jewish loyalty, or pride.
He inscribed their initials into the bark, etching in the date in Roman numerals. He translated it for her. June 7th. 1933.
She laughed watching him. He worked away at the tough material with his Swiss pocket knife. It glinted in the afternoon sun.
Yanosh loved this handy red knife. Marek had given it to him as a birthday gift when his father last returned from overseas. Marek's father, a diplomat, would enchant the boys with stories of exotic far-away places, like Jamaica or Australia. He often brought gifts for his son from these travels. Marek already had a pocket knife just like this one.
Yanosh promised Eva that when they were old enough he would marry her and they too would travel far away to one of those distant lands. There no one would stop them seeing each other, and no one would attack or spit at Jews or Communists any more, like they did in Warsaw.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Warsaw, October 1944:
It had been a long night. The sounds of explosions and shooting outside had terrified them. A strange, eerie silence now reigned.
Eva looked pale. She was curled up in the corner, wrapped in her blanket, staring at nothing.
Yanosh crawled over to the window to look outside. He lifted the curtain, and glimpsed out. He looked up at the sky. Night was receding before the first rays of the morning sun.
Down below he could see human silhouettes moving between the darkened ruins of once elegant buildings, which were still smoldering.
The tanks were gone. So were the German soldiers.
יום ראשון, 18 באוקטובר 2009
הירשם ל-
תגובות לפרסום (Atom)
אין תגובות:
הוסף רשומת תגובה