My first glimpse of Jews from foreign lands was in the winter of 1938 – 39, when a pair of twins from Berlin — a sister and brother — were brought in to our classroom as new students. The twins, my own age, were intelligent, charming, attractive and always well dressed. They learned eagerly and fast, and soon became my good friends. When they invited me to their home, they showed me fascinating photographs of their comfortable, wealthy home in their native land. They often spoke about their school, playmates and relatives in Germany. At times, they would tell us the story of having watched their house being consumed by flames after German hoodlums had lit it on fire; how they had been “escorted” to a special train that brought them to the German-Polish border; and how they were then forced, at gunpoint, to run across the border to Zbaszyn. We were fascinated by their stories and deeply touched by their sickening experiences at the hands of the Nazis. The fact that they, and other members of their family, were treated as if they were a lower species and ultimately misplaced from their home, being allowed to bring along only a few of their belongings, was mindboggling to us.
We welcomed them with open arms and they seemed to quickly assimilate into our culture. They visited our homes and we visited theirs. Within several months, they spoke Yiddish fluently and became excellent students in most of the subjects.
Those who were brought to Lodz from Zbaszyn in October of 1938-39 (German citizens of Polish descent and their offspring), were still able to establish homes for their families. But it was a different situation for the lot of those who were brought to us after the Litzmannstadt Ghetto was established. The plight of these “foreigners” was even worse than that of the Polish Jews who were suffering in the ghetto. Most of the native Jews had dwelt in that land for hundreds of years, and if it wasn’t for the Star of David sewn onto their clothes, and the hunger and fear expressed in their eyes, they could hardly be distinguished from the rest of the populace.
The new foreigners were brought to this strange place after being uprooted from a life of economic, social and financial luxuries. Their lives in their homeland — even during the Nazi era — seemed to have been much better than ours ever was in Poland. Their new life quickly became one of poverty and deprivation of basic necessities. When they were brought to Litzmannstadt, they did not seem to be malnourished as we were inside this cage. They managed to bring a small amount of money and other possessions with them, but with their German marks, they could purchase very little in the ghetto. Some of the goods that they had brought with them were actually completely worthless in this place. While the rest of the ghetto populace was struggling in congested living spaces, they had at least some housing and a bed to sleep in. Most of the foreigners — from Germany, Czechoslovakia and Austria ended up homeless, sleeping on floors in tempora y shelters (in cinemas, schools ard other public places). They had no beds, no wardrobes, no stoves, no dishes nor any other necessities. With very few exceptions, they had few social connections within this new country.
The foreigners experienced a big culture shock. To some extent they brought with them the German attitude of superior and inferior nationalities, and at least for a while, they put on such airs. They considered themselves of better stock than the “inferior” Eastern European Jews. They spoke German, looked down on us and demeaned the spoken Yiddish (as if it were a “corrupted German dialect”). Some natives of Lodz claimed that they overheard the foreigners say that “Hitler was horrible,” but they were still hoping that the “Germans would not lose the war to the allied forces.” I never personally heard them say that.
While we were concerned about filling up our empty, convulsing stomachs, they spoke about vitamins, minerals and spices. Though the hunger and cold were unbearable to everyone, they were completely unable to cope with the situation. On a daily basis, the “foreigners” would be dying — from hunger, disease and cold — in huge numbers. One could see their dead by the dozens — in the streets, in homes, piled up at the cemeteries waiting for burial — in much greater numbers than the local ghetto dwellers. They were also the easiest targets for ridicule and deportation from the ghetto.
As early as the latter part of 1940, at a time when the ghetto area was again decreased in actual size, transports of Foreigners were brought to Lodz from various countries west and south of Poland. My mother had pity on an old Czech lady and invited her to be our guest in our one-room apartment — which was occupied by our family of five people at the time. My mother thought that although the woman would not find the comfort and privacy in our room that she was accustomed to in her native land, she would be better off than in the congested cinema across the street on the bare floor. We were forced to squeeze together, and made room for the old lady to sleep. We were flabbergasted that this woman — for whom we had sacrificed our own sleeping comfort, our bread, soup and other essentials — sneered at everything that we shared with her. I was rather annoyed when she made negative comments about our delicious beet borsht: “Beets? — That’s feed for horses!”
Approximately every fourteen days, posters appeared on the ghetto walls regarding our forthcoming food allocation. We all waited anxiously to find out about the new scarce bread, groceries and special rations. We, the Jewish children from Lodz, who considered these semi-monthly rations to be starvation diet foods, were annoyed by the remarks of the “superior foreigners” with regard to the nutritional value of these forthcoming “goodies”. So, we would at times stand beside them and mockingly emulate their form of speech, as they were engaged in deep discourse regarding how tasty and beneficial certain food rations might be. s, including spices might be. One of us might exclaim with alleged excitement:
“Mein Got, Paprika ist auch da? Und Kumel auch? Danken Got! Das hat Vitaminen A und B und inmitten C(tse) – ‘Tsureshen.” — “My God, Paprika is also available? And Kumel, too? Thank God! That’s Vitamin A and B with C in the middle.” (C was short for Cureshen, a German diminutive meaning misery)
The Foreigners as well as the deportees from other surrounding towns and townships were the most vulnerable targets for deportation. The majority of them were labeled as homeless, unproductive and defiant welfare recipients, unnecessary businessmen and intellectuals.
©2001 Fela Infeld Glaser and Marty Capsuto
©2009 First Look Marketing All Rights Reserved
Leave a comment