Scraps of Heaven (24 page)

Josh gazes at her dishevelled hair and the damp sheen that covers her face. ‘Bring me my handbag,' she demands, as if she has intuited his thoughts. She wipes her face clean with a moist cloth, and retrieves a compact from the bag. She looks at the tiny mirror, powders her cheeks, combs her hair, adjusts the loose strands, and rejoins her tale with renewed urgency exactly where she had left off.

‘Yes, one is born and one becomes lost. I wanted to study, but I had to work. We had rent to pay.
Dirre gelt muz men tsolen.
Yes, rent must be paid. That is a true song. I left school when I was twelve. Zalmanowicz was upset. He came to our place on Isaaka Street. We lived on the third floor of an apartment block. The corridors smelt of fried carrots and cholnt. Mother served him a slice of honey cake and a cup of tea. And I said, “Mother, give him three spoons of sugar.” I knew he loved sugar.

‘He stirred the tea slowly, and as he stirred he told my mother I should go back to school. He said that something would become of me. He was looking at the tea as he stirred, and my mother told him I had to work.

‘“It would be a great shame,” he said. Then he left. The honey cake remained untouched. The tea was cold. The sugar lay at the bottom of the cup, and instead of returning to school I went to work in Goldman's workshop.

‘We sewed day and night. The workshop stood on Mlodowa Street, not far from Szeroka Square. In the square there were synagogues as old as the palace. Talmudic scholars dressed in black would rush by on their way to prayers. Their side-locks fluttered in the wind. We saw carts driven by peasants to and from the market place. We saw squabbles and fights, and Yoshke the madman wandering by. He wore a turban and said he was a descendant of Messiahs. The streets of Kazimierz were full of madmen and sages, but here it is so quiet. We saw the whole world go by while we sewed, and here I stare at the walls.'

Zofia looks up with a start. ‘Who will do the sewing? I must get out of bed. The pile is growing. There is work to do. And the rent must be paid.
Dirre gelt, ai, ai ai
.' She tries to sit up, but slips back. Josh wants to assist her, but again she waves him off. She is exhausted, but clings to her threads of thought.

‘Who knows what treasures our people possessed? What fighters we were? We were not afraid. We sought justice in the world. I joined the seamstress union. Everyone in our workshop was a member. We marched arm-in-arm on May Days, and sang. “Fathers, mothers, children, are building barricades / And in the streets are marching, worker's brigades.”

‘Zalmanowicz was a Bundist and a revolutionary, and like many Bundists he had once sat in jail. He wanted to make a better world. “You have to tear through history with your teeth,” he said. “You must create justice out of the
balagan
, the mess.” Yes, the world is a
balagan
. I have seen this with my own eyes. Even children understand this:

Balagan, balagan, di glocken klingen.
What chaos, what chaos, the bells are ringing.
Whose children are travelling
The Kaiser's! The Kaiser's!
On the oven they sit,
Under the oven, they sweat,
Matches do they tear,
Chickens do they drive away,
Oi vei, give me tea,
Tea is bitter, give me sugar,
Sugar is sweet, give me nuts,
Nuts are fat, so lie in bed,
In bed it's cool, so go to the mill,
The mill is turning,
And the witch is laughing.

‘Yes, everywhere there is a
balagan
and the witches are laughing, and the prehistoric bones are rotting, and not even Zalmanowicz could help. I had to leave school to help my family. My mother and father had a hard life, and what did they get for it? They were murdered, may Hitler's name be wiped out.'

‘What happened to them over there?' asks Josh.

Zofia is stung by his words. He has broken into her monologue. She seizes his question and hurls it back.

‘You want to know what happened? Evil people marched into the city. They took over the castle and prehistoric bones, and they descended on Kazimierz and herded us over the river. We were squashed behind brick walls. We were sealed off from the outside world, and all I had known vanished, pfff, just like that.

‘Then the bodies started piling up. You can find the corpses in many places. Perhaps one day someone will recover the remains. They should be stored in the castle alongside the whale's rib and mammoth bones. That is all that needs to be said.

‘You are coughing,' she tells Josh. ‘You must drink tea with sugar and honey, and I must get up. The sewing is becoming a mountain. There is work to be done.' She gazes around the room. ‘And there are little white souls here,' she observes. ‘They are dancing around me. What do they want from me?' She lies back. She wipes her forehead, adjusts her nightgown, and that damn pillow.

‘What more need be said? I came to Australia and that was that. We had a big family and I am the only one left. I am one of the mysteries because I stayed alive. You grew in my belly as the ship sailed on. I shook hands with King Neptune as we crossed the equator. He reached over, patted my womb and told me I would give birth to a strong boy. We were sailing away from the corpses and prehistoric bones:

I have forgotten my loved ones,
I have left my only home.
I have given myself to the sea,
Take me sea, to my mother 's lap.

‘Who knows what treasures we possessed? Zalmanowicz knew. When he saw I could not return to school he was very upset. That sort of teacher brings light into people's lives. He taught us Peretz's poem, “Two Brothers”. Peretz was a great writer, the father of Yiddish literature.

‘Ah, yes, once upon a time there lived two brothers. And they lived peacefully. By day the house was gilded by the sun, and at night it was lit up by the moon. They had everything they needed, but one day a snake came to their door and tempted them with riches. From that day their peaceful life was turned upside down. The brothers fought over their wealth. And the sun and moon looked on, and wondered why one brother laughed as the other wept.

‘And once upon a time there lived a brother and five sisters. Four sisters died, and my brother Yossel was waiting for us when we arrived. He stood on the wharf with his wife Liebe. I had not seen him since I was a girl. Even now, thirty years later, I can see his face as it was on the day he left. The carriage sprang over the cobblestones. Our bodies bounced, our suitcases leapt, and Yossel laughed. “You are my little princess,” he said, “and I am taking you for a magic ride.”

‘The driver cracked his whip and away we flew. We skirted the hill beneath the palace grounds and Yossel said, “The palace smells of corpses and rotting bones, and that is why I am leaving this black hole.”

‘I hugged him at the station, and he said, “Princess, I am going out into the world. I will make a fortune. I will build our own palace and I will bring you over. Just wait.” And he stepped onto the train, and waved as the train drew out. I saw his face getting smaller and smaller, until it was just a dot. Then it was gone. Pff. Just like that.

‘For many years I dreamt of his face, bobbing up and down. It is such a strange thing to see someone leaving. When Yossel sent his first letter, we all read it one hundred times. I read every letter he sent many times. I swallowed each word. The stamps had pictures of English kings. I thought Australia must have palaces with prehistoric bones.

‘Then one day I stepped off the boat into a land owned by a king. You were swimming inside me. I could feel your kicks. Even then you had a strong will. For years I had dreamt of the day I would see Yossel again. As the boat drew near the wharf I saw his face coming closer. First, it was a dot, then a round ball. I felt giddy. My head whirled. The sea was flowing backwards. Then he was in front of me and, in an instant, twenty years vanished. Pff. Just like that.

‘Yossel embraced me, but his body was stiff. I see things quickly. Zalmanowicz once told me perhaps I see too much. I saw that the
dybbuks
were there when I stepped off the boat. I looked around me and saw that the land was flat. There were no palaces or hills. And I saw that my brother was afraid of me. He stared at me as if I was a ghost. He no longer knew who I was.'

Zofia looks up with a start. ‘Enough. Who is doing the sewing?' She slips back onto the pillow. Adjusts it length-wise. Width-wise. It is too soft, too hard, too hot, but never quite right.

‘The world is not right,' she says. ‘Everywhere there is a
balagan
. Only they who went through
gehennim
understand. Yossel could not understand. Liebe did not understand. Their friends did not understand. How could they? They did not smell the corpses. They did not see them piling up.

‘But Zalmanowicz understood. He was a saintly man, a
lammed-vovnik
, one of the thirty-six righteous people who uphold the world. Zalmanowicz did not bring any trouble on the world, but in his life he had many troubles. And now he is lying peacefully, and my mother is lying peacefully. And my father and my sisters are lying peacefully, and their troubles are over. And the bodies are lying in the dining room cupboard, and there are
dybbuks
in this room. Can you see them? They are ready to pounce. But I am not afraid. The dentist said I was the bravest girl he had ever known. Look at my ulcer. It is burning. And it will always burn. “Send her everything,” Romek said. And I said, No. No. No. And he threw it. The wound will never heal.'

Zofia slumps back and closes her eyes. Josh leaves the room. Romek is in the kitchen, cooking a broth. He knows he must remain outside. He waits on her, but keeps out of sight. He ladles the broth into a bowl and hands it to Josh.

Josh returns and places it on the bedside table. Zofia eats quickly. She turns over and lies curled on her left side, and she awakes, two hours later, with a start.

‘Where have you been?' asks Josh.

‘On this planet.'

‘What did you see there?

‘Miracles.'

‘What miracles?'

‘Ah, such miracles. And such mysteries. I am one of the mysteries. We had a big family, and I am the only one left. My brother Yossel is alive too, but he does not know who I am. Romek pretended he knew me. When I first met him we went for walks. We left the piles of bodies behind us. He had pale green eyes, the colour of birch leaves. He said he understood me. He said he knew who I was. He spoke such beautiful words. He put me on a pedestal. Bah! Then he betrayed me, pff, just like that.'

And the afternoon is drawing to a close, and the fever is rising, and again Josh is asking her what happened ‘Over There'.

‘What does it matter?' Zofia shouts. ‘Once the ghetto walls were sealed it all ended. They were slaughtered. If I tell you, will it bring them back to life? For me there is only one day, when the British tanks entered the camp.

‘I had friends who died of happiness that night. Can you imagine such a thing? Those British soldiers were our saviours. We kissed their feet. We were skeletons, and they were healthy boys. We were dying of hunger and typhus, and we were choking from joy. But the bodies were still piling up. I saw people crawling naked in the dirt. We spoke in strange voices. We were dressed in rags. We did not know who we were.

‘The camp was a hunting ground for
dybbuks
. They knew we were weak, and they followed us wherever we went. They pursued me onto the boat and across the oceans from port to port. They pursued me even as you grew in my womb. And they are here now, in this room and throughout the house.

‘And the bodies are piling up. And the sewing is piling up. The world is a
balagan
. Sugar is sweet, give me nuts. Nuts are fat, so lie in bed. But I must get back to work. While we talk, the pile is getting higher. Work is the best medicine. Can you see the wisdom in that?'

Zofia swats the air, then falls back onto the pillow. She turns her face to the wall. Josh wants to stay, and he wants to flee. He wants to listen, and he wants to put his hands to his ears. He wants to put his arms around her, to give her comfort. And he wants to run.

‘And I was clean,' she says, turning back from the wall. ‘In all those black years I exchanged soap for my last bit of bread. It is harder for a
dybbuk
to enter a body that is clean. I must wash myself now. I must get rid of every stain. I must dry the pillow. Scrub the toilet. Wash our filthy clothes. And I must drink.' She reaches over to the bedside table, and lifts a glass of water to her lips.

‘Yes, drink,' she says. ‘This is why I survived. The British soldiers came with water carts. Do you know what it is to have fresh water? We were crawling on the ground. We were lying on straw and rotting bunks. The water cart was an angel. Everyone was burnt, and I was lucky enough to stay alive until the water arrived. I poured it over my face, and I washed and drank and washed again, but it was not enough.

‘We ran to the SS stores. We grabbed boxes of lipsticks and mirrors, and strong leather boots. We pulled the boots over our bare feet. We powdered our faces. We looked into mirrors and saw we had become ghosts. We smeared on more lipstick, thickened the powder and laughed. I wanted to fill my sunken cheeks. I wanted to restore my eyes to their sockets. I wanted our laughter to never end. We drank fresh water, rouged our faces. And laughed.

‘And when I saw Romek I thought he had kind eyes. He had been through the same
gehennim
. We were both the only ones of our families still alive. We walked between birches and pines. My head itched. I wanted to make my hair grow faster. But when we walked I forgot. We walked till my hair grew long. Only later did the truth come out. “Send her all our money,” he said. “I will build you a palace,” he told me, and I did not see he had crooked eyes. I discovered it here, in Yossel's paradise.

‘You were in my womb. A miracle was growing inside me, and Romek saw a former girlfriend's name on a Red Cross list. We had just moved into this rat hole, but the rent was cheap, and rent must be paid.
Dirre gelt muz men tzolen.
That is a true song.
Dirre gelt, ai, ai, ai.
Then he saw a letter in the Yiddish newspaper.
Ai.
Ai. Ai.
She was in Poland and looking for him. And he said, “Send her all our money, or I will hang myself.”
Ai. Ai. Ai.
You were in my womb. And I said, No. No. No. And he threw a piece of wood at me, and the wound became an ulcer. I said, No. No. No. Now it burns day and night.