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Authors: Hanna Krall
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Marcin B. talking, undoubtedly aboutTojwełe, because he touched his hand. Here it is! That was an unknown voice, maybe belonging to the boy with the round face. He must have found something. Probably their bag of gold, because suddenly they all jumped up and ran to the kitchen. Are you alive? That was Szmul. No, Tojwełe whispered. He wanted to tell him about the hair and fingernails, but Szmul had begun crawling to the door. He got up on his knees and crawled after him. Szmul turned toward the trees. Tojwełe had the impression that he was still following him, but when he came to, he was sitting under a tree, at the edge of the woods. He got up and walked straight ahead.
8
The Wieprz River flows through that district.
The river divided the world into two parts: the good and the bad. The bad part of the world was on the right side and that’s where Przylesie was located. On the left side of the river were the good villages: Janów, Mchy, and Ostrzyca.
In the good villages, many people were saved—Staszek Szmajzner, the tailor Dawid Berend, the saddler Stefan Akerman, the meat sellers Chana and Szmul, the grain dealer Gdali from Piaski, the windmill owner Bajła Szarf, and the children of Rab, the miller, Estera and Idełe.
The miller’s children were saved by Stefan Marcyniuk.
Twenty years before, he had escaped from a Bolshevik prison in the heart of Russia; in Poland, he settled down in the attic of a Jewish-owned mill. “If I had a sack of flour,” he said, “I would bake bread, sell it, and I’d have a couple of groschen.” The miller gave him a sack of flour, and Marcyniuk baked bread. He earned his couple of groschen, and in later years he was one of the richest farmers in the entire region.
The miller and his wife died in the ghetto; their daughter, Estera, was sent to Sobibor. On the day before her planned escape, Estera’s mother appeared to her in a dream. She came into the barracks and stood over her bunk.
“Tomorrow, we’re running away from here,” Estera whispered. “Do you know about this?” Her mother nodded her head. “I’m afraid,” Estera complained. “I don’t know where to go; they’ll surely kill everyone.”
“Come with me,” her mother said, and taking her daughter by the hand, she led her to the exit. They left the barracks and passed the camp gate. No one shot at them.
“After all, this is only a dream,” Estera thought. “Tomorrow they’ll shoot and they’ll kill everyone.” They walked across the fields and through the woods and stopped in front of a large farmyard.
“Do you recognize it?” her mother asked. Estera recognized it; they were in front of Stefan Marcyniuk’s house. “Remember this,” said her mother. “This is where you must come.”
They escaped on the following day. Eleven days laterEstera and her fiancé reached the village of Janów and stood in front of the house from her dream. It was nighttime. They didn’t want to awaken the owners, so they crept into the barn and lay down on the straw.
“Who are you?”
They heard a man’s voice in the darkness and someone’s hand grasped Estera’s hand.
“It’s I, your sister,” Estera said, because that was the voice of Idełe, her older brother.
“It wasn’t your mother, it was God who sent you,” Stefan Marcyniuk said, when they told him the dream. “You’ll stay with me until the war is over.”
Tojwełe, too, reached good people in a good village, on the left bank of the Wieprz. He found a place to stay in Mchy with Franciszek Petla. Petla’s uncle was President Mościcki’s valet. He had traveled with the president to Romania, came home, and opened a porcelain booth at the Różycki bazaar. The village was informed that Tojwełe-Tomek was the valet Zięba’s own son. This impressed the children in the pasture, especially Kasia Turoń, who was the tallest girl, because she took after her father the cavalry soldier. The children looked after the cows. Their favorite game
8
The Wieprz River flows through that district.
The river divided the world into two parts: the good and the bad. The bad part of the world was on the right side and that’s where Przylesie was located. On the left side of the river were the good villages: Janów, Mchy, and Ostrzyca.
In the good villages, many people were saved—Staszek Szmajzner, the tailor Dawid Berend, the saddler Stefan Akerman, the meat sellers Chana and Szmul, the grain dealer Gdali from Piaski, the windmill owner Bajła Szarf, and the children of Rab, the miller, Estera and Idełe.
The miller’s children were saved by Stefan Marcyniuk.
Twenty years before, he had escaped from a Bolshevik prison in the heart of Russia; in Poland, he settled down in the attic of a Jewish-owned mill. “If I had a sack of flour,” he said, “I would bake bread, sell it, and I’d have a couple of groschen.” The miller gave him a sack of flour, and Marcyniuk baked bread. He earned his couple of groschen, and in later years he was one of the richest farmers in the entire region.
The miller and his wife died in the ghetto; their daughter, Estera, was sent to Sobibor. On the day before her planned escape, Estera’s mother appeared to her in a dream. She came into the barracks and stood over her bunk.
“Tomorrow, we’re running away from here,” Estera whispered. “Do you know about this?” Her mother nodded her head. “I’m afraid,” Estera complained. “I don’t know where to go; they’ll surely kill everyone.”
“Come with me,” her mother said, and taking her daughter by the hand, she led her to the exit. They left the barracks and passed the camp gate. No one shot at them.
“After all, this is only a dream,” Estera thought. “Tomorrow they’ll shoot and they’ll kill everyone.” They walked across the fields and through the woods and stopped in front of a large farmyard.
“Do you recognize it?” her mother asked. Estera recognized it; they were in front of Stefan Marcyniuk’s house. “Remember this,” said her mother. “This is where you must come.”
They escaped on the following day. Eleven days laterEstera and her fiancé reached the village of Janów and stood in front of the house from her dream. It was nighttime. They didn’t want to awaken the owners, so they crept into the barn and lay down on the straw.
“Who are you?”
They heard a man’s voice in the darkness and someone’s hand grasped Estera’s hand.
“It’s I, your sister,” Estera said, because that was the voice of Idełe, her older brother.
“It wasn’t your mother, it was God who sent you,” Stefan Marcyniuk said, when they told him the dream. “You’ll stay with me until the war is over.”
Tojwełe, too, reached good people in a good village, on the left bank of the Wieprz. He found a place to stay in Mchy with Franciszek Petla. Petla’s uncle was President Mościcki’s valet. He had traveled with the president to Romania, came home, and opened a porcelain booth at the Różycki bazaar. The village was informed that Tojwełe-Tomek was the valet Zięba’s own son. This impressed the children in the pasture, especially Kasia Turoń, who was the tallest girl, because she took after her father the cavalry soldier. The children looked after the cows. Their favorite game
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