30. August 1992
F
ROM A CONVERSATION ON THE FLIGHT FROM
F
RANKFURT TO
B
OSTON BETWEEN
E
WA
M
ANUKYAN AND
E
STHER
G
ANTMAN
“Ewa. Isn’t it extraordinary, Daniel had no knowledge of my existence. He did not know my mother or even that there was a pregnant woman among those who escaped from the ghetto. I told him everything I knew, and added what I did not know but had been told by Naphtali, a cheery old man from Israel who helped my mother and remembers my brother Witek. He was amazed I had survived, as you were when you heard the tale.
“While I was telling Daniel my story, he said nothing, but from time to time put his hand on my head, stroked my hair, and sighed, ‘My dear daughter …’ It was very important to him that I had adopted Catholicism. I told him that since I was young I have only glanced into the church and lit candles, but do not take communion. I told him I was at loggerheads with my mother throughout my life and was only fully reconciled after her death. He asked whether my father was alive and I said he was one of those who refused to leave the ghetto. He was an electrician and believed he would survive because of his profession. Daniel remembered him immediately. Bauch! I tried questioning him, but he said only that he had seen my father several times, the last time being the morning he, Daniel, was arrested. Daniel supposed Bauch had been shot along with all the others. I had a moment of meaningless grief, hearing about the death of a father who to all intents and purposes never existed for me.
“When I had seen you to the hotel, I went to the Catholic Church with him. He conducted the service very quickly and passionately, partly in Polish, partly in Hebrew and, I thought, very beautifully. Then he was surrounded and tugged at by people for a long time, but held me by the hand like a child and did not let go. Afterward we sat in the church on the very pew where he sat fifty years earlier and he asked me why my eyes were so sad. I would hardly have burdened him with such frank admissions if he hadn’t asked. I told him how tormenting I found the situation with Alex. I cannot accept his sexual choice. Daniel was at a loss, then said something amazing, ‘My child, I really cannot understand this! Women are so beautiful, so attractive. It is quite incomprehensible to me how anyone can turn away from this beauty and take a man instead of a woman. Poor boy!’
“That is what he said. Not one of the psychologists ever said anything like that. They tried to conduct an analysis, to deduce something and in some way link Alex’s sexuality with my family life, with some kind of problems of my own. Daniel said that, like me, he was quietly horrified when faced with this vice, and he had encountered homosexuals on more than one occasion. He said it would be better if Alex lived away from home, not involving me in his mutual relations because I should protect myself. In just the same way he asked about and was upset when he heard of my difficulties with Grisha. He closed his eyes and was silent for a long time. He said we never know what further trials may be ahead of us, illness and problems, and it would be good if I could learn to rejoice in things not associated with my family and my relationships with other people. It would be better if I directed my attention elsewhere, to trees, the sea, all the beauty that surrounds us, and then all the destroyed connections would be restored and I would be able to go to church and receive help from the Source which is always waiting for us.
“I should think less about my emotions and altogether less about myself, and be prepared for serious trials. He would like me to come some time to see him in Israel. He promised to show me all the things he knows and loves. He said I should write to him, but he would either not reply at all or only very briefly. He said he would always pray for me and told me that I should also pray, imagining that I held in my hands all the people I love and was lifting them up to the Lord. That would do it.
“I told him I had lost my faith when I was a teenager and now have no idea whether I am a Catholic. He gave me such a friendly smile, passed his hand over my hair, and said, ‘My child, do you really think God only loves Catholics? Do what your heart bids you, be compassionate, and the Lord will not abandon you. And pray.’
“When I got back to the hotel I immediately tried, and filled my hands with all those whom I love and those who are loved by those I love, and Rita, of course. I gathered them all up and said, ‘Lord do not forget my people.’ What do you think Esther?”
31. August 1992, Berkeley
L
ETTER FROM
E
WA
M
ANUKYAN TO
E
STHER
G
ANTMAN
Esther, my dear, a week has passed. Grisha is still in intensive care in a coma. The lunatic who drove out into the oncoming lane was killed instantly, along with his wife and mother-in-law who were sitting in the backseat. It is a pure fluke that Grisha is still alive. In a headlong collision like that nobody survives, not even with airbags. I waited a whole hour at the airport, then took a taxi and went home. Alex was there. Grisha was going to come to collect him and go to the airport together, but rang to say he was short of time and would drive straight there. I thank the Lord he did not take Alex with him because the passenger seat next to the driver is the most dangerous. But that was only afterward. The first thought which came into my head was that while I was in Belorussia he had not been living at home. Now that is of no consequence.
The doctors’ prognosis couldn’t have been worse, but then yesterday I was told that Grisha was a little better. They had removed his spleen and operated on his lungs, because the ribs had torn the pulmonary tissue, but all the other traumas were not dangerous. The main operation was on his spine, and they could not say whether mobility would be restored. At present his legs are paralysed. I keep remembering what Daniel said about my being prepared for serious trials. I am not prepared for them.
They don’t let me in to see Grisha, so I haven’t seen him since I came back, or rather, since I left.
I am living like a robot. Only now do I realize how dear he is to me. I even thought I would prefer it if he left me completely and went to live with his vixen, just as long as he lived. I have not phoned you yet because I’m afraid of blubbing down the line. When I write it’s quite another matter. I feel as if our trip was three years ago, but only one week has passed.
All the time I have this strange thought, not so much a thought as a feeling, that something of this kind was fated to happen, and that it was my obsession with my inner travails which did not let me avert it. Mother told me one time about her grandmother who was a complete witch and knew everything in advance. She once tore up my grandfather’s train ticket and thereby saved his life, because the train crashed and a lot of people died. Another time before a scarlet fever epidemic began she took her three children and went to stay in the country with a relative. In their street in Warsaw half the children died of scarlet fever. What nonsense I am writing to you. Forgive me, please.
With love,
Ewa
32. August 1992, Redford, England
L
ETTER FROM
B
EATA
S
EMYONOVICH TO
M
ARIA
W
ALEWICZ
Dear Marysia,
I cannot tell you how sad I was that you refused to go to Emsk. I really do not understand. If I, the wife of a deceased Nazi collaborator, decided to undertake the journey why did you not want to? I got home two days ago and am still walking around sorting out my impressions. The town has not forgotten our family. Father’s grammar school stands in the same place, our house has been remodeled and has a history museum in it now. Can you imagine, I found a portrait of father and uncle and our family photograph taken five years before the war. You are in a short dress and I am already a young woman. There is also a photograph of grandfather Adam in the museum. There are almost no Poles left in the town. First the Germans shot them, then the Russians arrived and dealt with the rest. In the whole town only Sabina Rzewska remains of the people we knew.