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27
18th April 1943
It was the first time Jan had ever celebrated the Seder.He’d seen Antoni, Nathan and Nacha’s family prepare for the celebration in years past, but he’d never participated before.Mama wasn’t sure they should, saying it was a sacred ritual.But Antoni insisted—he told her that it meant so much to him that they be part of it this year.
The rest of the family was gone.They were all each other had.And there was a significance to the tradition this time that none of them could’ve predicted.They were part of an exodus of their own.Jews were leaving a persecution all over again, although this time most were doing so unwillingly.
There was something in the atmosphere all over Warsaw—a quiet, a waiting, a tension mounting.Tomorrow was Hitler’s birthday, and the Nazis had announced various celebrations and festivities to mark the occasion.It didn’t escape Jan’s notice that theFuhrer’sbirthday would land on the first day of Passover.
It was like an omen of some kind, although Jan had never believed in omens before.This seemed too prescient to be ignored.It gave him a feeling of foreboding, which when coupled with the city’s mood, made him agitated and grouchy.
He’d already been kicked out of the kitchen several times by Mama and Nacha, who were preparing the Seder meal.But he’d grumbled and complained and then lashed out at Danuta, who teased him about having a tapeworm.Jadzia sat quietly in the corner, looking out the window.
The day was grey and chilly for spring.It made sense that the whole earth would mourn such a day, with its foreboding echoed in the low-hung clouds and the grey sky.When the time came for the Seder, Antoni prayed over a glass of wine.He called it aQiddush.
They all took turns washing their hands in a large porcelain bowl.Then Antoni handed around various things to eat from a plate in the centre of the table.A raw vegetable dipped in vinegar, some kind of meat on a bone, and a hard-boiled egg.Jan wished he could eat the entire thing.It’d been so long since he’d seen an egg.
Mama had worked hard to trade for all the things they’d need at the market.She’d apologised that the wine was a home brew made from potatoes and some kind of dark wildberry, and the herbs were a mixture of whatever she’d managed to pluck from the small communal garden in the courtyard.
Then Antoni poured another glass of wine, and Danuta asked the group a series of questions in her solemn, sweet voice.
“Why does this night differ from all other nights?For on all other nights we eat either leavened or unleavened bread; why on this night only unleavened bread?On all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs; why on this night only bitter herbs?On all other nights we need not dip our herbs even once; why on this night must we dip them twice?On all other nights we eat either sitting up or reclining; why on this night do we all recline?”She faltered on the last question, but managed to get through it.
Antoni acknowledged her success with a smile as he inclined his head.
Then the entire group spoke as one in response.Jan had practiced the answers that morning.Nacha helped him prepare by running through the questions and answers that morning while she folded laundry and he mended a hole in the toe of his right shoe.
Afterwards, they all washed their hands in the bowl again.And it was time to eat thematzaand bitter herbs dipped in crushed fruits (berries discovered on a bush by a friend at the market) and wine.This was the part Jan had been looking forward to.Thematzahad smelled delicious when Nacha baked it.
He took the piece offered him and dipped it in the mixture, then bit into it.It was far more bitter than he’d realised it would be, and he did his best not to grimace.Nacha watched him and fought back a smile.Her expression almost made him laugh.
He had to focus on something serious or he’d burst out laughing and choke on the matza and spoil the whole thing.He breathed slowly and deeply, looking out the living room window and away from Nacha’s mischievously glinting eyes.
Something in the distance caught his attention.A column of black smoke rose, curling over the ghetto.He rushed to the window, swallowing the last of the matza.
“What is it?What’s wrong?”Antoni called from the table.
“Nothing.I’m going out for a little while.I’ll be back soon.”Jan slipped on his shoes by the door.With the freshly mended toe, they were far too small and his feet cramped if he wore them too long, but they were all he had, so they’d have to do for now.
As he shut the door behind him, he could hear Mama and Antoni calling after him in frustration.They weren’t happy, but he had to go and find out what was happening at the ghetto.
The last time he met in private with the ZOB in a sewer pipe beneath the city streets, they’d told him they intended to fight any further attempts at deportation.Perhaps the deportations had begun again.If that happened, there would be a fight.
If the battle had already begun, the ZOB would need help.He worried about Walter as well.If only his friend would agree to leave the ghetto and come stay with them, he’d feel a lot better.
He jogged in the direction of the ghetto.The streets were eerily quiet.Very few people were out and about.There was a chill in the air.Overhead, the clouds whirled and churned in the sky.Leaves scattered across the street.A bicycle rushed by and almost clipped Jan when he stepped from the curb.
He ducked down an alley and climbed into the sewer system.He’d grown used to the myriad tunnels beneath the city that led into the ghetto and out of it again.
The Polish Underground used the network to smuggle goods and people into and out of the ghetto and between city districts within Warsaw, particularly the Zoliborz district and Warsaw’s Old Town, where the ghetto was located.
It was the best way to move large amounts of supplies or weapons, as well as groups of people, without being seen.The Germans suspected the resistance of using the sewer system, and occasionally lobbed grenades under the manhole covers.They lowered listening devices into the sewer wells and waited for any noise to indicate their enemy’s movements.
In general, though, they seemed wary of going near the sewers since the Polish Underground put them to use, and the resistance fighters took advantage of their fear.
Jan heard voices up ahead and slowed his pace, keeping to the side of the pipe to avoid splashing that could be heard a long way off.He snuck up on a group of three resistance fighters having a quiet but heated conversation near a manhole.
The light from the manhole shone down close by and illuminated the group.He was surprised because conversations in the sewer system were strictly forbidden, especially near manholes, in case the Germans might be listening.
