Her mother said to her: Go, daughter. “I didn’t know that these were the last hours of their lives” [FRAGMENT KSI¡¯KI]

Goodbye, family. Goodbye, childhood

Early in the morning on Rosh Hashanah erev in 1942, my father recited selichot – penitential prayers recited every day for several weeks before Yom Kippur, the most important holiday in the Jewish calendar. I was getting ready to go out for begging so we’d have something to eat during Jamim Noraim. I was hoping to slip away unnoticed and avoid a sad goodbye, but my mother called me over. “Go, daughter, and may Hashem protect you,” she said with tears in her eyes, as if she sensed the impending catastrophe that would separate us forever. She wouldn’t let me leave the house on a day like this without being sure I’d be back before sunset. But we needed food for two days, and it had to be prepared in front of Jami Towi. I decided to return before dark, and secretly asked Hashem for help. I was glad it wasn’t raining. Besides, I was very hungry. With a heavy heart, I hugged everyone in turn, asking them not to worry about me. Little did I know then that they would no longer need the provisions I had brought; that these are the last hours of their lives. I left the town with Malach at my side, passing many soldiers along the way. As usual, none of them paid me the slightest attention. Walking away a bit, I noticed troops around Tarnogród. I had no idea what they were up to. Reluctantly, I moved on towards Korchow, a village I had visited several times in the past. The day turned out to be successful: I managed to collect a lot of potatoes, some bread and eggs. There was so much that I could even nip a little for myself to recharge my batteries. With a heavy sack on my back and Malach by my side, I set off on my way back, hoping my mother would have time to cook dinner before Rosh Hashanah began. Suddenly, I saw a figure in the distance. Soon I recognized her as Mr. Guźek, our nice neighbor. When we met, he revealed to me in a hushed voice that my parents, sisters and many other young people had been herded to the market square. They were told that they would be transferred to a better place, where the men would get good jobs and their families would be able to count on more food rations. My parents gave Guźek my clothes and asked him to give them to me. A neighbor gave me a flask of hot drink, which turned out to be very refreshing. Also, Guziek gave me a note from Balla, insisting that I read it. But I was too shocked and put the letter in my pocket. Later, I took my things from Guzek’s house and thanked him for his kindness. I assured him that I realized how much he was risking for me. The people I met along the way took me for his daughter. I finally got home. No one was left in it except Grandpa, who was no longer able to walk. The Nazis knew that if left alone, it would starve to death quickly. Grandpa was very confused and had no idea what had really happened. He asked when the rest of the household would be back. I gave him food and promised to find out and then I’d come and take care of him. Too old and weak to understand what was going on, he calmed down and gave me his blessing as always. I left my bundle of clothes at home and went to the market. In the middle was a large pile of personal items. Approaching cautiously, I noticed Balla signaling me not to come any closer. She was a bright girl and clearly knew the end was near. Torn, I struggled with the dictates of conscience to rejoin my loved ones, knowing I would never see them again. But in the end I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Overwhelmed with guilt, I turned and ran home to read Balla’s letter. I was afraid to do it on the street where someone might see me. I entered the house and looked around. There was a surprising order there. Apparently they believed they would come back here. Then I read the letter.

Dearest Malu, we don’t know what the future holds, but whatever happens, Mom and Dad are praying for a better fate for you. The Germans say that they will take us to Izbice, where Daddy will have a job and where we will receive a double rations of food. Although I regret that you are not with us, I feel it is better that you stay here. You are strong and smart – you stand a better chance of surviving alone. The Germans can promise what they want, but I know we’re lost. Take care of Grandpa, and when there is no other way out, try to get to Luchów, to Uncle Abram and Aunt Golda. Be brave and may Hashem bless you. Remember that we love you. ball

“I love you too,” I said aloud. No one heard me but the cat. I was devastated and lonely. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I closed my eyes and imagined that I was among my loved ones. For a long time I stood motionless, praying, “Hashem, please make them not suffer much.” I spent a few days at home trying unsuccessfully to gather energy for the trip. One day, taking a quick glance at the window, I saw that the street was completely empty. Those who were still in the ghetto were too stunned and terrified to go outside. I had a great sense of duty to my grandfather, but I knew that if I stayed with him any longer, I would inevitably face arrest. I was “wanted” after all. For what? I haven’t committed any crime. It was these barbarians, the Germans, who were guilty of the most heinous crimes. I secretly thought about what I would do with them if I were a judge, but I quickly realized that it was unwise. There was, after all, a more important Judge, and it was to be left to him.

On the left, the author of the book ‘Kot Mali’ mat. Press releases Sign/photos are provided by the family

I prepared a meal for my grandfather and kissed him goodbye. In my heart of hearts, I knew I wouldn’t see him for a long time—maybe never. “I’ll be back soon, my dearest go,” I promised. “Please don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. I was sure that soon people would move in to help him. I really didn’t want to leave him, but there was nothing I could do, and meeting other Jews was too risky. Suddenly I felt that I was no longer a child. If I’m going to survive, I need to act like an adult and fend for myself. I turned to the cat. “Come on, it’s time to go,” I said, and started off with the bundle over my shoulder, not knowing where to go. “I have time to decide,” I thought. “My only duty now is to survive in the big world that Hashem has created for all of us, not just Germans.” I decided that since I had no other choice, I would live among the fields forever. “If you can, so can I,” I told Malach. “We’ll see which one of us can handle it better, my dearest friend.” I thought I was too young to die, and set off for the forest. The beauty of the sky and greenery around strengthened my will to live. “Goodbye, childhood,” I said. And although I was short, I decided to always go with my head held high, towards freedom, towards life. “If I am to survive, I must believe that I am strong and become completely independent, like wild animals. Soon I fell asleep and felt nothing for a while. I slept for several hours, too tired to dream. I woke up refreshed and with new energy. Autumn was slowly approaching. The chill in the air made me shiver. I had no coat or umbrella and I was starting to freeze. After a few days, the rain came. It rained and rained, turning into a sudden downpour, then into a light drizzle. Deprived of care and a roof over my head, I was often numb from the cold and damp. I snapped off a branch that was still covered with leaves, big enough to keep out the rain. It served me as a camouflage – from a distance I resembled a bush among many others. Whenever the leaves on a branch began to wither and turn brown, I would cut off another one, and once again I could hide under the lovely umbrella. Since I was a child, I was able to make various things out of branches, not just counting sticks. Fortunately, I had a penknife with me, a real treasure. The air smelled of mushrooms. I was worried about the beginning of autumn. Only my determination to outlive my pursuers kept me going. Although the blueberry bushes were bent with fruit and there were many wild strawberries growing around, I couldn’t satisfy my hunger with them and I knew that if I wanted to survive, I had to take a risk. The ground turned to mud under the influence of the rain. The trees, bare of leaves, offered no protection. I knew that people who wanted to kill me were roaming around like a pack of wolves. I had to find a better place. One that will at least provide me with shelter from the increasingly cold wind. Moving in the field was getting more difficult day by day. My feet got stuck in the mud that clung to my boots. I began to fear that my appearance would make people in the villages suspicious when I went to beg for food. Fortunately, I did not see myself, and the animals were completely indifferent to what I looked like. The shoes were still wearable, but I felt they wouldn’t last long. To keep the soles longer, I tied them with rags. It slowed me down, but I had plenty of time. Despite my efforts, the shoes quickly fell apart and I had to throw them away. I knew that, unlike the animals of the forest, I wouldn’t get very far barefoot. I was afraid to step on something sharp or even a small snake. But nothing of the sort happened, and I didn’t even trip over fallen branches. Thankfully, I didn’t catch a cold. Every day I thanked Hashem for that. I found a daytime hideout in a clump of bushes just big enough to accommodate me and Malach. In front of the “entrance” I stuck a few sharpened branches. If someone tried to get into my shelter, they would stumble and cut themselves, while I would sneak out the other side. I wondered if it was just a pipe dream, but Hashem had said, “Try it and I’ll help you.” I didn’t have to think long, because soon I saw a shadow approaching. I prayed that no partisan or fugitive would fall into my barbed wire. “I wouldn’t want to hurt an innocent man for anything,” I told Malach. I began to wish I had binoculars. My eyesight was good, but it was already quite dark. However, I did not feel safe under the cover of night, because I knew that the Germans had powerful flashlights. I sat huddled, quiet as a bunny. After a while, I heard a curse word in German. Maybe it was the rustling of the branches that gave me away, because the man obviously sensed that someone was nearby. Maybe he had exceptional hearing. But he couldn’t tell if the sound was coming from an animal or a human being. Of that I was sure, and having no choice, I tried to control my nerves. The man approached, then stopped and looked at me. As strange as it seems, I felt no fear, only hatred and the desire to hurt him. I knew he was armed, and I had no chance of defeating him with a knife or a branch, but I decided that if he saw me, I would grab the branch and stab him right in the eye. After a while the tall, heavyset soldier was very close and, as I suspected, he had cut himself by falling into the barbed wire. Shaking himself, he stood up and, cursing even harder, headed straight for my hiding place. When we were only a few meters away, Malach jumped down from the tree and ran her claws across his face. – Dumme Katze! Stupid kitty! the German yelled, aiming his rifle at her. Malach scurried away and hid in the tree canopy, as only cats can. The German looked up but did not take aim. He must have run out of ammo. I smiled to myself, wishing him a meeting with a more dangerous creature or one of the partisans hiding in the forest, who were more dangerous to the Germans than wild animals. Deciding that what he thought was human turned out to be a mischievous cat, the soldier limped away and disappeared into the forest thicket. Then Malach sat next to me, her eyes glowing in the darkness. Reassured by her presence, I allowed myself to take a few hours nap. I would have slept long if my stomach hadn’t reminded me that it was time to eat, a sign that I was still healthy and very much alive. My determination was growing not to give up without a fight and, if necessary, to die a heroic death. I remembered sitting in the back of the classroom during one of my grandfather’s lessons and hearing the story of Hanukkah and the Maccabean uprising. If they could fight, so could I. “I’m ready,” I told myself. I looked around the rustling fields to which I was so accustomed. “How wonderful your world is,” I said, looking up at the heavens. – Thank you, Hashem, for allowing me to enjoy the beauty of your creation, and thank you for creating me, allowing me to enjoy freedom until now.

The book translated by Martyna Tomczak was published on January 25, 2023 by Znak Koncept.

Mali’s cat – cover mat. press