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7
The open air on the wide street was eerie after hiding for days in the apartment without so much as looking out a window.Women with scarves pulled over the tops of their heads shuffled by, empty cloth bags hanging from their arms.Men hurried, running a few steps, then slowing their pace to glance around with furtive eyes, then hurrying again.Children hid in the shadows or clung to doorsteps, deciding between playing outside or taking refuge within.
Tata had told them to stay away from the windows and they’d kept the draperies drawn, only letting in slivers of light.They weren’t sure what might happen if they were seen.There were so many questions, so much still unknown.
Nacha inhaled a slow breath, willing her heart rate to slow to a normal pace.Adrenaline spiked, making her head light.She’d volunteered to leave the house in search of coal to burn in the fireplace.It was getting colder every day, and they’d need it for the winter ahead.But no one was sure where to look.Tata had been out every day searching for food.He was tired, his face drawn, and he worried about everything—she could see it in his eyes, though he rarely said anything about his fears.
She paced along the street, clutching a heavy saucepan to her chest, looking up each alley she came to.She tugged the blue scarf lower on her head.The cold wind pinched at her nose.Her stockinged legs ached with the pace she kept.But she couldn’t slow.The fear of what might happen if the soldiers appeared on the street kept her moving forward.
Some of the Jewish traders had continued to trade in the ghetto portion of the market after the ghetto was sealed ten days earlier.She’d try there first.If they didn’t have coal, she wasn’t sure where she should go next.But she’d deal with that problem when she came to it.As Tata always said, there was no need to worry about tomorrow when today had enough problems of its own.
Bodies lay strewn in the streets.She hadn’t seen them before now.Staying hidden in the apartment had given her a kind of separation from the events going on outside their door, but she couldn’t avoid them any longer.Why was no one in the family talking about it?
She strode past a woman lying on her side.Her clothes were old and worn, her hands blistered from hard work.The scarf on her head hid her face from Nacha’s gaze.She held her breath as she passed, her heart in her throat.Then she faced forward and hurried on.
It wasn’t long before her mind had returned to the task at hand.She had ration cards pushed deep into one of her pockets.There was also money sewn into the hem of her skirts.Babcia had hidden two- and five-zloty coins in the hems of all of their clothing after the decree came through that froze the family bank accounts.But even with the ration cards and money, there was no guarantee she’d find the food or coal they needed.The ration cards only provided for one meagre meal per day for each person.It wasn’t enough for any of them to survive on long term.Even after only a few days, Nacha’s hunger was almost all she could think about.
The Law and Order Service, a disorderly and cruel group of Jewish men who’d been appointed by the Germans to police the ghetto, conducted regular raids on the ghetto residents, confiscating valuables and food when they found it.Babcia had devised some ingenious ways to hide what little they had left so they wouldn’t starve, although Nacha could tell Tata and her grandparents were anxious about how they would manage to feed such a large family despite their few hidden supplies.
A soup kitchen had opened on the ghetto side of the markets, across from the building where Tata had traded not so long ago.It seemed like an eternity since they’d had the opulence of such freedom—to be able to go where they wanted, to trade in the marketplace like a human being.But they weren’t considered human any longer, not by the German occupiers.Or by many of their neighbours, who would gladly turn them in to the Nazis if given the chance for no reason other than hatred or fear.
Nacha couldn’t understand how people she’d known her whole life could turn on her and her family so suddenly and without provocation.How could they look her in the eye and think her inhuman?She pushed down a welling grief that threatened to climb up her throat.The line for the soup kitchen was long — It meandered along the edge of the street, around the corner and disappeared from view.Perhaps she should stand in line for soup before she went searching for coal.Her stomach clenched, and the faint scent of stewing vegetables wafted on the frigid wind to tickle her nostrils.
Soup first, she decided.She hefted the saucepan higher against her chest, her fingers now almost numb with the effort of carrying it through the cold.She stepped to the back of the queue.It was mostly women and children who formed the crooked line.The women wore shawls and scarves, and the children’s heads were covered with knit caps.Each person held a container of some kind, whether a cup or a pot, in their hands.
A girl who seemed a few years older than Nacha was ahead of her in the line.She glanced back and shot Nacha a smile.“Hi.”
Nacha smiled shyly.“Good morning.”
“This line…” The girl waved a hand in the direction of the crowd of people ahead of her.“It’s longer than yesterday.There was no soup left when it was my turn.”
“I hope the pot isn’t empty today,” Nacha said.
“I’ll have to get here earlier tomorrow.”
“I’m Nacha Wierzbicka.”
The girl pushed out a pale hand.“Leah Silverstein.Pleased to meet you.”Her brown eyes sparkled and her soft brown hair was combed back from her face and into a high peak, then secured in place with hidden hair pins.It curled around her shoulders in perfectly formed waves.
“You too.”
Her hand was cold, but her smile was warm, and Nacha couldn’t help returning it.
“Do you like to read?”Leah asked suddenly.
The line shuffled forward, and the two girls moved with it.Leah fell into step beside Nacha.
“Um…yes.”It was an odd question, given their situation.But Nacha had always loved reading and learning.
Leah’s voice dropped to a whisper and her gaze slid quickly from Nacha’s face to the building across the street, down to the first of the market stalls in the distance, and back again.“Because there’s a school, you know.”
“What?”Nacha’s brow furrowed.“A school?But that’s not allowed.”
“Shhh…” Leah waved to shush her.“Yes, a school.But there’s no need to make a loud announcement.It’s behind the soup kitchen.If you go through the side door, down the hall, and into the basement, you’ll find a teacher and some pupils studying the great poets of old.”She chuckled.“Or something like that.I would join them, but I’m hungry.And when I’m hungry, I can’t concentrate.”
“Do you think I could…?”Nacha gazed longingly in the direction of the soup kitchen doorway.
“I don’t see why not.They’re setting up schools all over the place.We can’t have too many kids in one spot—that’s the main issue.They’ve got small groups tucked away here and there.But you can’t say anything or those nasty police will hear about it, and that will be the end of it—and of us, most likely.”
