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A memoir of the Holocaust
By Jacob Zylberman
The online version
© Copyright 1995, 2000, Jack Zylberman
A symphony
The hopes and dreams of a Jewish teenager were seldom fulfilled, chasing rainbows, striving toward distant stars, escaping reality. That’s where the movies came in. The cinema became a retreat, an escape into fantasy, a trip into make believe, a journey into dreamland, forgetting the present.
There was a film showing in the "Fama" theater that Jacob was anxious to see, expecting a line of patrons, but to his surprise there were none; the ticket booth was dark, only a dim light visible at the entrance to the theater.
Curiosity took the better of him. He tried the door and it opened. … At the front men and women casually dressed, pages in one hand, musical instruments in the other, took their seats on the lit stage. Violins, violas, cellos facing big clumsy basses; woodwind instruments and kettle drums. The fiddlers bowing, reeders blowing, and the trumpeters’ cheeks puffing created a discordant sound, a cacophony.
Presently, a medium-sized man in a white, open-collared shirt ascended the podium. He had a baton in his right hand, with his left hand turning the pages of the score.
At last all sound stopped, the faint clearing of throats subsided, and the music began, barely audible, gradually the violins’ bows in unison dancing in perfect rhythm. The woodwind, brass not far behind, adding depth and color, the drums, singularly and together asserting their presence, shaping an unseen statue, murals of beauty; sadness, giving way to smiles, and happiness. In glory and brotherhood, and awe, thankful for being a part of Him.
That was his unofficial introduction to great music, a world of beauty, enchanted dreams.
When Jacob returned home, Laibl looked suspiciously at him, and asked: "Where were you? Your face is red, your eyes sparkle. Are you drunk?"
"No, I am not drunk. I went to see a movie, big brother."
"But today is Good Friday, no movies, Dummy."
"Okay, Laibl. Thank you for reminding me. I admit that I was not aware of it, but I had the most wonderful time. I’ll remember this evening forever."
Passover – festival of freedom, welcomed in every Jewish household – was one of Jacob’s favorite holidays. His father, like a patriarch at the head of the table in a white gown, a pillow at his back, his eyes aglow. David’l asked the four questions, followed by the reciting of the Hagada, slavery in Egypt, and the "Exodus."
Scrupulously observing the tradition, eating the bitter herbs, hiding of the "aphikomen," drinking the sweet wine, a special cup deferred for Elijah the Prophet, the little ones fighting sleep waiting for Him, longing to take them out of bondage. … "Next year in Jerusalem."
Saturday again. Srulik, Moniek and Jacob sat on the steps under a pale half-moon, stars twinkling from afar.
"How about an ice cream cone?" suggested Srulik. "It has been a long day. The walk will do us good."
"It’s okay with me," Jacob said, "but sorry, I spent all my allowance last night on ‘Tarzan and Jane.’"
"How about you, Moniek? Do you have any money?"
"Yes! I have five groschen, enough for a small cone."
"I’ll treat you, if you’ll tell us the story of the movie, to the last detail," Srulik said, turning to Jacob.
"I’ll be glad to," he said.
They walked along the Twarda all the way to the end, Jacob relating the heroics of the ape man in advance, when the familiar ice cream parlor "Madera" came into view.
"Let’s go to the park," Jacob suggested, enjoying the last of the cone. "The night is still young."
"That’s a splendid idea. Maybe we’ll find girls and seduce them," Moniek said, poking Srulik.
Accompanied by the pealing of the nearby cathedral, they left the Grzybowsky plaza, wholesale businesses of home appliances ending at the Graniczna, famous for its watches and diamond center, then turned into the Krolewska and the "Sasky Park,"a boulevard cutting through the middle forming an appendage to the Marshalkowska, the most eminent street in Warsaw, ending at the Zabia.
At one end of the park were the famous twelve gates facing a huge square plaza; in the center the grave of the unknown soldier, and the eternal lights (Znicz).
And there on the Nowy Swiat (New World) Boulevard were the elegant government offices and the luxurious Polonia Hotel adorned with red and white flags … a place to visit but not to play, especially for Jewish children.
But at the other end of the park, where the Zielazna Brama (iron gate) and the biggest market of the city was located, was quite different.
Teenagers from the Krochmalna’s dingy, overcrowded, stuffy quarters escaped the noise, fumes from trucks serving the market … a welcome retreat of sunshine, fresh air, and fun.
At the entrance to the park stood Shloimo, his hands in his pockets, the visor of his cap turned up.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, a foxy smile on his face. "Are you looking for girls? Yes?" his eyes were deceitfully shifty, and before long he shouted, "Here they are!"
Three girls approached the park exposing shapely legs, their hips like a metronome swaying. The tallest one, her chestnut hair purposely arranged in disarray, her swanlike neck adorned with a string of pearls, her blouse exposing a trace to a deep valley, round mounds.
Another was carrying a small purse and book, her eyes on a slightly squinting, flushed face, dragging along.
But the last one attracted Jacob’s attention, her ebony hair tied with a red ribbon at the back of her neck, exposing a lovely forehead, thin eyebrows around brown eyes, a quaint, small nose, her lower chin protruding slightly but daringly, a mixture of boldness and coquetry.
One moment she was like a young gazelle romping around, bursting with happiness. The next instant, a cheetah on the alert.
It took a poke in the ribs to bring him back to reality.
"Hey, you, Yakub! Where are you?" said Srulik. "You look so funny staring at Esther. Wake up!"
It was Shloimo trying to impress them. "Sorry, fellows, I have important business to attend. You’ll have to excuse me. I must go."
"So go already," said Moniek. "Don’t worry." He with the tall one in front, Srulik with the other behind, Esther and Jacob at the rear, laughing.
"I was surprised the way you behaved," Esther said after a while. "At first you seemed tongue-tied, not a charmer," and Jacob in a trance listening to her melodic voice.
"Tell me about yourself," she said.
"Sure, but first tell me your name."
"All right," she said, smiling, her white teeth sparkling. "I’ll be glad to repeat it. I am Esther. I have a mother, two brothers, no father. … Anything else?"
"No! That is more than I expected. I just wanted to know your name, and I like it! A long time ago I was in love with a girl named Esther, and now I am deeply enamored with one, her name is Esther also."
"Yes?" she said, laughing heartily. "You don’t look old, and already you are a great lover. Is your heart big enough for another Esther? Tell me about your great love."
"All right. She is a beautiful, most adorable, fourteen-month old creature. … She’s my little sister."
"I am so relieved," Esther said, giggling. "My jealous heart is at peace. You are a good talker, a lot of fun, and I hope a gentleman. For that I’ll let you walk me up to my apartment."
They crossed the squalid streets and obscure yards, climbed the dark steps of a five-story house, and with a quick good-night she disappeared inside the attic.
When he returned his friends were already waiting.
"Don’t tell me you scored," said the tall one. "You had time enough for a quickie. Did you?"
"No, my handsome pretender – my big Casanova. We only held hands, that’s all."
"Is that so! Why is it you always talk? Let your fingers do the talking for a change. My pretty Regina and I did little talking but a lot of everything else. She also held my hand, but the other one was sliding down her blouse caressing her breasts. If I would have been alone, I could have taken my sweet time and gone farther. Next time I’ll be ready.
"Don’t you see, those girls are from the Krochmalna, in the midst of bordellos and thieves. They are the riff-raff, scum, in the midst of a jungle, and I am their hunter – it’s a lake full of fish, what one needs is the right bait."
"I don’t like your analogy," Jacob said. "Don’t be too hasty to judge others by my big pretender, especially those you know so little about. It is a sin to even think like that. There is always an exception to the rule.
"True, we live in a jungle, where men like beasts jump their victims – vultures, sensing blood from afar. Like a horse with blinders seeing only in one direction, sneering at the law, its codes, their success achieved at any cost. Their only law is survival, survival of the fittest.
"Moniek – honorable people live here also, orphans in cold basements, dark attics, not only wrongdoers. At least give them the benefit of the doubt. They are not necessarily criminals. Their only crime is poverty. So put yourself in their shoes, don’t prejudge anybody, you could be proven wrong. It could be a mistake you might live to regret. Yes, my friend, you may never know. Never!"
Summer came. Young bodies toiled in the sweatshops, looking forward to the weekend, Saturday night and the girls. There she was, the one standing before him, her hands, long fingers reaching in consecrated communion, embraced in one blessed experience, her limpid eyes, thumping of hearts disturbing the silence.
Her kisses, pulsating breasts, gentle touches prolonging the sweet agony, her nakedness inviting a never-ending desire, her fingers pulling inside her restless hips, a soft, subdued scream affirming her purity.
Like a young stallion mounting her again, exploring every corner, where all mankind aspires, cling to, come from.
Two lovers, unwilling to part, melting into one another – their bodies spent.
But it was only an unfulfilled dream, a figment of his imagination, befuddled, leaving the cot, his underwear and sheets wet.
"Yakub, you are nervous, irritable, jumpy," said Yudel the presser. "Something is definitely wrong with you, and I know what it is. Nature is catching up to you. Spring is here. What you need is a girl," the 22-year-old Yudel said, smiling mischievously.
"I have the right medicine, for only one zloty you can get relief. There is a pretty one I know, I’ll take you to her, but you’ll have to wait, okay?"
Long moments passed without an answer. Jacob felt naked, his face like an open book, full of desire and lust.
"Okay," he blurted out. "Pick me up after payday."
"Good. Then it’s settled."
Four days later, Jacob walked the familiar streets, past Edelstein’s bakery, Yudel at his side, then continued on the Ciepla, Grzybowska, past the police station’s stables.
Like a criminal, about to commit a sin, perspiring, his heart pounding, with each step regretting but not enough to change his mind, and before long he was there – a gray old unobtrusive two-story dwelling, five steps down into a long, dimly lit hall. Yudel nearing a door, knocking three times. There was a peek through the peephole, he was let in, Jacob dragging behind.
It took Jacob a while to adjust to the surroundings. The heavy air of the cigarette smoke settled, revealing a long bulb sparsely illuminating the big rectangular basement.
On each of three sides dark curtains hung almost to the floor, a chair, and an iron bed screened in. The remaining wall consisted of a sink, a stove, a steaming kettle and a half-dozen chairs for the waiting clientele.
A heavy-set woman with red earrings matching her painted corpulent face regulated the traffic, counting money – the squeaking of the beds, groans and moans most discomforting. Frequently a female emerged from behind a curtain, her nude body exposed. Men hastily adjusted their zippers, and left in a hurry.
Suddenly Jacob felt sick, his expectations shattered. What happened to the mystery, its intimate longing, privacy? Instead, there was a procession of men, of all ages and sizes, having one thing in common, buying love, using a woman like a rag, and then uncaringly discarding her. … He felt dirty, his expectation gone. Even his erection hiding inside him. Overcome with the dire reality, he wanted to run from the uncleanliness, unholiness – but it was too late.
A handsome man in his late thirties emerged, adjusting his shirt and tie, followed by a girl complaining of the heat, fanning herself with her short pink negligee, baring small breasts, slim, long legs, pubic hair.
"That’s her," said Yudel, poking Jacob. "That’s her." He walked toward her and whispered in her ear, the girl a smiling on her pretty face, her slippers clicking as she approached Jacob.
"Come, my little boy, my little virgin, come to mama. Let me make you happy," she uttered, closing the curtains, and Jacob wanting no part of her, not responding.
But she would not give up – determined to awaken, take him out of his deep lethargy, caressing, massaging, pearls of perspiration forming on her face. A challenge she decided to meet – win – and did.
Her incessant, gentle touches revived him, her nimble fingers slowly brought him back to life, the blood in his veins flowing faster.
"That was good, wasn’t it?" she whispered. "It took us a long time but it was worth it. My madam will be mad at me, she lost money, but who cares? I loved it."
This was Jacob’s introduction to sex, that he so passionately longed for – the pure maiden he had so yearned for.
But it was an imitation, a fake.
A substitute, a prostitute.
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