I am Strawzcynski. Once Lalka was out walking with a camera in one hand and a gun in the other. He didn’t know whether he’d rather be snapping some pictures or doing some shooting. Then he spotted Sztajer, whose back was turned to him. Sztajer was my neighbour from Czestochowa. Lalka took aim and shot Sztajer in the buttocks. Sztajer screamed and fell to the ground. Lalka came over, beaming. Get up and drop your pants, he said. The man obeyed. He was barely conscious, blood gushing from his buttocks. Lalka scowled, shrugged and said, Fuck it. I missed your balls. Then off he went looking for another target.
Rajzman, how did you manage to stay alive?
There were about eight thousand Jews in my transport, brought from Warsaw. I had already undressed and was heading towards Himmelfahrtstrasse when Galewski, a friend of mine of many years, noticed me. He whispered, Go back. Go back quickly. He said, They need a translator for Hebrew, French, Russian, Polish and German, and I convinced them to let you go. Galewski was in charge of a group of camp workers. He took part in the revolt. He was killed. I was assigned to the job of loading. Onto trains I loaded bundles of clothing belonging to people who had been killed. After two days, from a small town near Wa rsaw, they brought to Treblinka my mother, sister and two brothers. I watched them being taken to the gas chambers. Then, while I was loading clothing, I found my wife’s documents and a photograph of her with our child. That is all I have left of my family. That photograph.
On average, how many people were killed every day?
Between ten and twelve thousand.
How many gas chambers were there?
At first there were only three. Then they built another ten. They were planning twenty-five.
How do you know?
I know. There was construction material on the small square. I asked someone, What’s that for? There aren’t any Jews left. Then someone said, There will be more. We still have plenty of work to do.
Have you heard? says the woman who is now sitting very close to Haya and makes no effort to leave. Have you heard? A bedridden little old lady on Via dei Magazzini was eaten by rats? she says. Do you have a dog? A person needs a dog. Dogs protect us from rats and loneliness, says the lady sitting next to Haya. My dog died recently. Ever since my dog died I haven’t been sleeping well. I listen. I do a lot of walking. I had a nice dog, a golden retriever, she says.
They call the new Pope “Rottweiler”, Haya says. The definition of hyperbolic functions is:
, did you know that? The Panzer Pope Rottweiler.
The lady sitting next to Haya on a bench in the Parco della Rimembranza pretends not to hear what Haya has said about the new Pope, because she has heard. A little later it will become clear that the elderly woman has excellent hearing. Have you read? asks the lady sitting next to Haya, right next to her, on the same bench in the Parco della Rimembranza, their shoulders nearly touching, but not touching, for had they touched Haya would have moved away, that’s for certain, she would have slipped off the end of the bench, Do you know that postmen in Germany have recently been attending workshops on canine psychology? asks the lady next to Haya. The German post office is offering classes on canine psychology to all their staff the lady says to Haya. The heads of the post office insist, says the lady sitting next to Haya in the Parco della Rimembranza, that dogs continue to attack postmen because postmen are particularly attractive to dogs, the lady says, but ever since the German post office has been offering these workshops, the number of attacks has dropped drastically, or so says the post office spokeswoman, a certain Sylvia, says the lady sitting next to Haya. The number of attacks has dropped by half, says Sylvia, says the woman next to Haya, and that has been happening ever since the postmen were advised at the workshops not to run when they see a big dog coming at them. The spokeswoman says, says the lady next to Haya, that some eighty thousand postmen and postwomen attended the workshops on canine psychoanalysis this year, she says, and the exercises included theoretical and practical advice, and the psychologists explained to the postmen that they must not rely on their bicycles, because one cannot escape a chasing dog even on a bicycle, so says Sylvia, the spokeswoman of the German post office, says the woman next to Haya. So the postmen said, Buy us vespas, or mopeds at least, says the woman next to Haya, but Sylvia the spokeswoman tells them that is out of the question.
What is your name? Haya asks the woman sitting next to her.
Aurelia.
And just now, on Tuesday, a boy was attacked by a pack of dogs. The boy was on his way to kindergarten, the police reported, says Aurelia. Three dogs attacked the boy not far from the house where he lives, where he lived, and there wasn’t anyone on the street to help him, so the police say, says Aurelia, and the boy died. The police say it still isn’t clear why the dogs attacked the boy, says Aurelia, and now the spokesperson for the police is saying, We locked up the dogs, and we’ll speak to the owners, because, so the spokesperson says, in this region alone dogs bite at least thirteen thousand people every year. Do you have a dog? Aurelia asks Haya. One should have a dog, she says. Dogs protect us from rats and loneliness, says Aurelia. My dog died recently. I had a nice dog, a golden retriever, she says.
The dog was called Barry.
Barry was a nice dog. A black-and-white dog. A big one.
Barry belonged to Kurt Franz.
Kurt Franz was called Lalka. In Polish “Lalka” means “doll”. Kurt Franz was a handsome man, tall, big and strong. A blond man, blue-eyed.