Somewhere in Germany Page 3

  MONDAY, JUNE 16

  A day of tears. When Papa and Mama went to the new apartment this morning, it was occupied. By a Mr. Hitzeroth. He had already moved in on Thursday. The superintendent whispered to Papa that H. is a paper merchant and has bribed the people at the housing authority. Papa does not believe him and says that the whole thing must have been a mistake. German officials cannot be bribed. At any rate, Mr. H. has more than enough paper to give away. I now have five new notebooks (in case I am ever allowed to go to school), but they do not bring me any happiness. After all of us had calmed down somewhat, the cook came by and told us that he could not keep us here much longer.

  FRIDAY, JUNE 20

  Mama’s 39th birthday. Papa painted a cigar box (from Dr. Goldschmidt) and put a gift certificate in it for a maid (to be redeemed when we get an apartment). I gave her a small bowl of raspberries that I picked in the Ostpark. Mrs. L. (she is from Breslau, and she walked from there to Frankfurt) took me there yesterday as a special treat. I think that was really decent because she has a child of her own. Max said “Mama” again for the first time since the boat ride. I taught him.

  THURSDAY, JULY 3

  When we were standing in line in front of Spannheimer’s store, a woman said, out of the blue, “We have to stand here forever while everything is thrown at the Jews.” Mama shouted, “Do you think I am standing next to such a damned Nazi shrew out of my own free will? I am Jewish. And if you want to know what has happened to us—our entire family perished.” Everyone looked at us but nobody said a word. One woman ran away even though she was far ahead in line. I admire Mama a lot.

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 9

  Now we really do have an apartment. On David Stempel Street on the other bank of the Main in Sachsenhausen. Again, three rooms, a kitchen, and a bath. At the moment, a former Nazi is still living there with his wife, but he will have to move out by August 1.

  FRIDAY, JULY 11

  Today Spannheimer first attended to everyone else who came into the store after me. I was starting to get annoyed but then, all of a sudden, he took my bag and put oatmeal, sugar, and a piece of cheese into it. I was so startled that I could hardly thank him. Mr. Spannheimer said that he respects Mama and finds her very courageous. He has only one leg and hates the Nazis. He saw how people were taken from the Jewish hospital. Papa was very happy about this story.

  SUNDAY, JULY 13

  I finally share a secret with Papa again. When I came into the room today (Mama was having a conversation in the yard), he sat on the balcony with Max on his lap and sang “Kwenda Safari.” I said “Jambo bwana” and we talked for a while without words and then about Kimani and Owuor and the farm. Later Papa sang “Kwenda Safari” once more and said, “Your mother does not have to know about this.” I felt the way I used to feel as a child again. Only then I did not know that love could even get rid of hunger.

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 16

  Papa brought the address of a woman from Upper Silesia home from court; she lives in the East Zone, wants to come to the West, and is looking for a position as a maid. Mama instantly wrote to her.

  THURSDAY, JULY 17

  I got enrolled in the Schiller School. Like our new apartment, it is in Sachsenhausen. I am afraid. After all, I am almost fifteen and hardly know how to read, at least not in German.

  FRIDAY, JULY 18

  A few days ago, Papa told a policeman that in Africa he had always raved to me about cherries and that I still did not know how they tasted. There is no fruit for sale anywhere. Yesterday the policeman brought him a bag of cherries from his garden. When Papa told us this story, he had tears in his eyes and said that nobody had ever been this nice to him in ten years in Africa. Of course, I did not tell him that I thought that cherries were sour and I would rather eat mangoes.

  MONDAY, JULY 28

  We are not getting the new apartment. The Nazi displayed a certificate saying he had not been a Nazi after all, and he can stay. He is a butcher. Now even Papa is starting to believe in bribery.

  MONDAY, AUGUST 4

  I was sick all week. Stomach cramps and nausea. Acute appendicitis. But this is not enough to go to the hospital because there are not enough beds. I was glad. Mama applied compresses, and Dr. Goldschmidt came every day. Once he had to treat Papa, too. He had collapsed in the courthouse. Malnutrition. He has lost fifteen pounds. Mama and I have only lost ten. We always go to the train station on Sunday. There is a scale there.

  TUESDAY, AUGUST 12

  Great excitement. The maid has arrived. Her name is Else Schrell and she suddenly appeared in front of the door with her suitcase. She used a good opportunity to cross the border. Mama was happy. Papa was not. Else will sleep in his bed and he on the balcony. Luckily it is very hot. Now we have to divide the food that is intended for three among five people. But Else has brought along onions. She is from Hochkretscham. That is very close to Leobschütz. The three of them talked far into the night.

  SATURDAY, AUGUST 16

  Yesterday was the first day of school for me. I do not know where to start. I was terribly scared. It is a miracle that I even found the school. The Schiller School does not exist at all. It is a pile of rubble. The pupils of the Schiller School have to go to the Holbein School. Classes start at two o’clock. I was half an hour early and asked the first girl I saw about the eleventh grade. Luckily, she was in the same class. Her name is Gisela and she instantly wanted to know if I was Catholic or Protestant. I became quite alarmed and said, “I am Jewish.” She became even more embarrassed than I was and murmured, “Oh. Excuse me. I only asked because we have religion now.” I did not understand her and she said, “Religion class.” She was a Protestant and I went with her.

  The teacher was very nice to me. Quite different from the English ones, who could not stand new students—especially when they were different from the others. She asked about my last school. I said, “Kenya Girls’ High School, Nairobi.” It took forever until she understood that I am from Kenya. Then she asked if I had gone to boarding school there. She used the German term “Internat,” and I said, “No, only my father was interned.” Everyone laughed really hard. I was mortified and am still not quite sure what was supposed to be so funny.

  In the second class a rather old teacher came up to me. Her name is Dr. Jauer and she said, “I am very happy to meet you, child.” I said the same to her because I thought that this was the German equivalent of “How do you do?” Obviously I was wrong since the girls laughed again. Dr. Jauer did not laugh. She teaches English and read something to the class. I almost giggled. Not even the refugees spoke such poor English at home.

  During the other classes I did not understand a word. The German teacher’s name is Dr. Dilscher. He was particularly friendly. He asked me about my favorite authors. It seemed that he had never heard of Charles Dickens, William Wordsworth, and Robert Browning.

  The girls are incredibly inquisitive. During the break they gathered around me and asked me one question after another. They are all very friendly. And very elegant. Many are wearing skirts made of two different materials and wonderful white knee-high stockings. Most of them have long braids and look like Heidi.

  TUESDAY, AUGUST 19

  Else is like Aya. She only has to take Max on her lap and he stops crying. She has a big bosom and stays with Max in the evening when we want to go for a walk. Yesterday we even went to the movies. We had to stand in line for the tickets longer than at the bakery, but it was worth it. The movie was called In Those Days and was very sad. Mama and I tried to outdo each other crying. I realized once again how good our life had been in Africa.

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 21

  The girl I like best at school is named Hannelore. Everyone calls her Puck, though, because she once played the role in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She wears beautiful clothes because she has a grandmother, a mother, and two aunts, all of whom can sew. They make blouses and skirts from old curtains and even shoes from uniform jackets. Puck always tells me what the teachers previo
usly used to say.

  Yesterday, for instance, the headmistress had me called into her office and said, “You will have to let me know if any girl is rude to you. I am not going to tolerate that. The Jews have suffered enough.” I only stared at her silently. No teacher would have thought of anything like that in an English school. I was quite impressed and immediately told Puck the whole story. She started laughing uncontrollably and reported that previously the headmistress had firmly punished anyone who said “Good morning” instead of “Heil Hitler.” I think I will never be able to fully understand life here. Everything is so terribly complicated. I did not talk about any of this at home. Papa does not want to hear this kind of thing and Mama would only have called him a fool again.

  FRIDAY, AUGUST 22

  Else came home crying. When standing in line at the butcher’s a man had said to her, “You gypsies from the East are just what we have been waiting for here. You had nothing to eat at home and here you want to steal the little bit that we have left.” Mama, who likes Else very much because she always addresses her with Papa’s title, was furious and consoled her very nicely. Else’s father had been one of the richest farmers in Hochkretscham. Else, therefore, knows a lot about plants. She often goes to the Ostpark very early in the morning and picks stinging nettles that she uses in a salad. They do not taste too bad and even take away the hunger. Only Papa always says, “It is a good thing that Owuor cannot see that his bwana has turned into an ox that eats grass.”

  SATURDAY, AUGUST 23

  Trouble again. Else hung the diapers out to dry on the balcony. She did not know that one is not supposed to do that here on a Shabbat and, of course, we did not think of it either. The superintendent’s wife was enraged. Papa became furious as well and shouted, “My son also poops on a Shabbat.” The entire nursing home is talking about it.

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 1

  During the break, we get school lunches from the Americans. Mainly noodles in chocolate sauce or tomato paste. I do not eat much of it and always take the leftovers home for Max. Papa does not like me doing that because I am weighing less and less while Max is gaining more and more. The long way to school is partly to blame for that—one and a half hours there, and one and a half hours back. There is only one bridge leading to Sachsenhausen and you have to walk across it. My fellow students are lucky because they all live in Sachsenhausen. I would be there, too, if the Nazi had left the apartment.

  FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 5

  Papa’s 43rd birthday. Only Else had a present for him (blackberries from the Ostpark). I was sad that I had nothing, but he said, “You do not know how much you give me every day.” I think he means that I never complain about our life here. That makes me happy. We still have our secret and sing songs to Max in Swahili when we are alone with him. I never would have thought that Papa knows so many songs.

  FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 19

  My 15th birthday. Mama gave me an elephant-hair bracelet for good luck. She bought it in Nairobi especially for me and had been hiding it all this time. Papa gave me The Old Curiosity Shop. In English! I had no idea that he knows how much Dickens means to me, especially this book. He did not want to tell me how he got a hold of this treasure, but when he went to court, Mama told me. He got the book from a judge in exchange for his tobacco ration for the next month. I will never forget this birthday and my parents’ love. It is too bad that we cannot all live together (just the four of us) on an island. In Lake Naivasha!

  Everybody wished me a happy birthday at school. I could not really enjoy it all that much though, because Puck, unfortunately, has made sure that I now know exactly which girls were previously enamored with the Nazis. It makes me feel awkward. This time last year it never would have occurred to me that I would have such thoughts some day. We were still in Nairobi then. Owuor had baked the little rolls that he was so proud of and I did not know what hunger was. It all seems to be years ago now.

  SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20

  The people in the nursing home constantly ask Papa to come to prayers. They need ten men before they can begin the service and there are never enough men. Papa considers it an obligation of honor and always goes even though he complains.

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 24

  This week we can get only 900 calories on the food ration cards, but luckily there is a special addition from the Jewish community. A quarter pound of fat, one pound processed foodstuffs, 200 grams milk powder or one can of milk, and 200 grams egg powder. All of a sudden, people who were never Jewish claim to have been persecuted by the Nazis. They are called milk-can Jews. The K.C. in America (Papa’s old fraternity) wrote that they would send us a CARE package even though this is against the regulations because Papa voluntarily returned to Germany. They are going to make an exception because of Max and me. Papa has not been this furious in a long time. He immediately wrote that he was not about to accept any charity. Mama tore up the letter. A huge fight ensued. I think Mama is right. Pride does not fill your stomach.

  THURSDAY, OCTOBER 2

  Even though it is still warm, everyone is starting to talk about winter. Papa is afraid that he is not going to be able to sleep on the balcony much longer.

  MONDAY, OCTOBER 6

  There is a Jewish camp in Zeilsheim. Puck told me about it. Groceries are sold on the black market there. I think she goes there with her mother. When I asked Papa why we could not do the same, he got really angry. A German judge cannot do anything like that. Unfortunately, a German judge cannot do anything but be proud of being called “Your Honor.” Last week a man wanted to give Papa a pound of bacon, but a German judge has to have integrity. The flint stones, which we had brought from London and could exchange for groceries, are still in the suitcase. A German judge does not make deals. I am the only one in my grade whose father is a German judge and who has no relatives who live in the country. This is worse than being a Jewish girl in an English school.

  THURSDAY, OCTOBER 16

  Three days ago some German Jews who have returned from Shanghai came to live here. They were already as thin and pale as we are now when they arrived, but they are much more courageous than we are and constantly complain about everything. Mama admires them a lot and says, “At least they have elbows and do not say yes to everything.” They immediately received clothing from the community and told everyone that they were not going to live in the nursing home for any length of time. The cook threatened us once again. He is not going to keep us any longer. But Dr. Alschoff says we can stay until we get an apartment. Else suggested that we slaughter one of the cook’s sheep. She knows how to do that because she comes from a farm; of course, Papa was against it (German judge).

  THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23

  In spite of thirty-three spelling errors, the German teacher marked my essay with “You are making remarkable progress.” I was very happy because German is the only subject I really enjoy. Dr. Dilscher is also the only one who understands that English schools are quite different from German ones. He was not surprised that I had never heard of Schiller and Goethe before I came here. The French teacher acts as if her ears are hurting when I read aloud. The French we spoke in Nairobi was pronounced very differently from here. The same is true for Latin. And we did not even study physics, chemistry, and biology. In addition to German, I like history. The teacher was actually quite interested when I said that the Seven Years’ War had taken place in India and Canada. All my life, I worried because I used to be the best student in my grade and attracted unpleasant attention for being overambitious among my English classmates. That will never happen here, but I am not happy, often even quite depressed. I am also sad because the girls consider the blue cardboard case, which I use to carry my school utensils and the glass jar for the school lunch, incredibly funny and will not stop talking about it. We did not have schoolbags in Kenya, but I am tired of explaining this over and over again.

  WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 29

  We have been assigned another apartment. For November 15, in the Höhenstraße. Three r
ooms, a kitchen, a half-bath, and furniture. The proprietor lives there. He was a Nazi and is supposed to leave. We do not believe it. At least we will not be disappointed this time. Mama said, “I hear the words, but lack the faith.” That is supposed to be by Goethe.

  MONDAY, NOVEMBER 3

  The most beautiful day since we arrived in Frankfurt. When I came back from school, Mama had picked up a parcel from America at the customs office. Her friend from Breslau, Ilse Schottländer, sent it. A pound of coffee, ten packages of pudding mix, two chocolate bars, two pounds of flour, a tin of cocoa, four cans of corned beef, a pound of sugar, a package of oatmeal, three tins of sardines, a can of cheese, a can of pineapple, three pairs of pants for Max, and two blouses for me. We put everything on the table, sat in front of it, and cried (even Papa).