“In times of war our souls wander aimlessly adrift...affected by atrocity, by all its misery and vehemence, suspicion, and contradiction...”
— EMILIE SCHINDLER
Esther
It takes all my strength and the feeling of a frozen, limp hand in mine to lift my eyes from the dirt to what is in front of me, or our fate rather. My stomach drops, and I am surprised I can feel it. Two imposing metal doors stand before me, as if swallowing me, dictating our fate, imposing their will. I am helpless as the slow shuffling of the crowd pushes my feet forward. Before I am aware again, we are inside, where the freezing temperature contrasts with the warm glow emitted from dim lights. The only warmth I feel emanates from the love of my mothers hand in mine. Her face gains lines and shadows everyday and sometimes it feels as if she’s not really here, that she’s a painting with no soul, until her cracked and tired face moves to smile at me. Everyday I put my arms around her, I feel her ribs, her bones more angular each time, and a place that used to be a palace of comfort now doubles as a concern. She is all I have left. Without her there would be nothing to live for.
The man and woman before us stand still, as cold and imposing as the metal doors. We have been redirected from the Krakow ghetto to Zablocie, he says, saved from the Plaszow labour camp, to produce ammunition and metalware for the German army. His nondescript coldness allow his words to settle on me and I am unsure what this will mean for us, until he assures us that conditions at the factory subcamp are more tolerable to allow for greater productivity. I am aware it is sometime in March 1943, the month of my 14th birthday, but I am unsure whether my mother can survive the burden of work to see the spring.
Sensing her exhaustion I tighten my grip on my mother’s hand, willing her to stand just a little longer. It has been such a long, cold walk from Krakow and I try not to hope at what the more tolerable conditions might be. As my mother wavers, I sense the direct gaze of the woman. As our eyes meet, the intensity of her stare frightens me and a shiver runs through me, fear and cold combined.
Emilie
Standing before the latest group of jews, the knowledge of how many more we could not save from Plaszow, brought to the surface again the misery and vehemence of the atrocities that had set my soul to wander aimlessly adrift until I had determined on this path. As my eyes scanned the emancipated condition of the one hundred souls before me, my gaze faltered as it fell across a young girl. Unbidden, thoughts of my beloved childhood friend, dearest Rita Gross, rose as if to drown my tentative grip on composure. A gurgling breath rasped to prevent my suffocation and my eyes met those shining wide, in a timid face. A face so like Rita’s in earlier days, had it been fuller and brighter. Memories of Rita’s smile locked somewhere deep in my memory, before the Nazi occupation, and the memories entangled with sadness and pain, float untouched to the surface, pure and light. This innocence, before the pain and mistakes, steadies my composure, reminding me of my purpose. I would play my part with every ounce of strength and courage I had.
Esther
I wake suddenly. The effects of my dream linger momentarily, the scent of candle smoke snuffed out, reminding me of joyous times, Hanukkah, Shabbat. I wait a moment for the laboured breath of my mother, and the silence crushes me. In the dark I can’t make out the shape of my own hand and I don’t want to see it without my mother’s in it. I feel the pain in my lungs, making breathing difficult. I find I cannot grieve, for letting it out will be like letting her go. And when I do, I’ll have nothing left.
As the weeks passed, I’d begun to let myself feel a sense of safety and hope. The fear I first felt under Emilie’s stare, as I now knew the man and woman to be Emilie and Oskar Schindler, had dissipated like smoke in the wind. That first night she had made my mother comfortable and the sense of relief I felt shook my body. In that moment, as she tended to my mother, her face was soft and loving, and her cupid lips, curved into a careful smile, told me of her kindness. Her blonde hair was pretty, I remember thinking, just like how I wished my hair would look, back when I cared about such things. But her beauty wasn’t intimidating, it was warm, like a mother’s and I began to discover her kindness had a particular intensity and determination to it. That first day she placed her soft hand gently on mine, ‘You and your mother are safe now, along with all the others. I’ve put you on my list.’ And I trust her, perhaps I shouldn’t, but I do.
The conditions, even with the lice and dysentery, and the thin blankets which barely keep us warm, are a comfort. And Emilie is here. Emilie visited mother regularly, brought her food and medicine, and talked to her. Although mother rarely responded, she allowed her eyes to smile. When they buried her, it was a burial I recognised, and in my numbness, that was somehow a consolation.
But I am now truly alone, and I am scared.
When dawn consumes the darkness, I move as if in a waking dream, I am powerless. I can do nothing. Work is a methodical distraction and I am grateful as it helps me feel very little. I watch the constant motion of the machines, and the line of sun on the ground moving back and forth each day.
Emilie
I try not to think about where all this will end. I wasn’t sure I would have a heart left at the end of it. My father had warned me Oskar was a heart-breaker. He was right. A whirlwind six week courtship had seemed romantic and I longed for the life of excitement he promised. I gave my heart to him, but too late I understood the contradictions in him. His love, adoration and devotion were a suit he put on for an occasion, unnecessary when the occasion was over. He was an actor, his many characters changeable for any occasion. He told me he loved me, and I believed him. But they were words, there was no reciprocation in his actions.
Over time Oskar’s hedonistic lifestyle became my misery. His drinking, gambling, partying and womanising was cruel, and his lust for money at the expense of human misery disgusted me. The Jews were a commodity to him for which he paid a small fee to the SS in anticipation of a fast profit. The thought of these sick, emancipated, destroyed individuals being capable of forced labour was abhorrent to me. But as long as they were ‘working’ they were essential to the war effort and safe from worse fates. As a member of the Nazi party, he witnessed vehement atrocities, all while drinking carefree with the Nazi elite. He was part of Nazi insanity sweeping aside humanity, and I knew by now Oskar offered my soul no solid place on which to settle. Despite the brief interrogations he was subjected to, there was no real threat, he was one of them after all, incapable of empathy for Jews and above suspicion. His lifestyle was at least useful for something.
He fought me on the care of the Jews, my vehement opposition to them working, the necessity to secure as many as possible, and the economic cost of it all. Although he protested when I sold my jewellery to purchase medical supplies and food on the black market, they were mine to sell and I had little use for them now. And he was too busy pursuing pleasure, he never noticed the redirection of profits from the factory. I had found my purpose, it was not partying by his side, instead I was becoming a thorn in his side. There were now 1300 on my list.
Esther
I don’t mind the working conditions, I know they could be worse. I am young so I must work as much as possible as others cannot. Emilie knows there must be some production, and she knows the work helps me stop the thoughts and the pain. The enamel furnaces keep us warm and despite the sulfuric acid, the women are happy and strong enough with the extra food and care Emilie provides. Through the numbness of my mind I find myself watching her more often. She is tireless and it appears to me that she occupies herself to numb a pain of her own. I rarely see Emilie with Mr Schindler. I rarely see him at all, and on occasion when I have, they don’t talk, only argue. I know he stays away a lot and I think that for the best.
There are many times when Emilie is away, and I often wonder where she goes. I worry when she’s gone too long, because I know she must take many risks to bring back what she does. I don’t know how she finds the fruit and vegetables and grain she does, nor the medical supplies so desperately needed, but we are all so grateful. We help keep them hidden, make them last and savour everything.
It was just as well Mr Schindler was away when Emilie returned with so many near starving people I cried. I wondered if we had looked like that once, but I think we’d not been so near death. Many died, but even in their condition Emilie had convinced the Nazi guards taking them to Auschwitz, that they were needed to work in the factory. She added another 120 names to her list but none of them ever worked at all. We all helped to care for them and feed them and I especially liked to feed the children. Despite the fight from Mr Schindler, Emilie buried those who didn’t survive in the ground alongside my mother. I hadn’t visited her grave, nor cried yet, but when I attended these funerals, full Jewish funerals, in ground just outside a Catholic churchyard, I couldn’t stop.
Emilie
Standing before all the workers, I listen to Oskar’s words. I wish to speak but I cannot, my throat is constricted and my vision swims with tears. ‘Russian troops have reached Czechoslovakia’, he says, ‘We leave you with newfound freedom and hope you leave without feelings of rancour’.
It is May 1945, and I wonder how anyone will create a future after such atrocity. My heart is torn with feelings of hope and despair. I did what I could and they are alive, I send a silent prayer to Rosa.
Esther
She is leaving.
Without my mother and Emilie I don’t know how I’ll survive. We have our freedom, we are safe, he says. But I am not sure and cannot take my eyes off her.
Before she leaves she holds me. ‘Esther’, she says. ‘Make something of yourself, for yourself, for your mother. Find joy wherever you can. Do this and it all means something.’ It is the kindness in her eyes that subdues my panic. And it is the kindness in her smile I never forget.
Emilie
Even in Argentina, with the continued drinking, womanising and gambling I am surprised that after so many years, deep down I still yearn for something he is incapable of giving. And I hate myself for my wasted hope. I had only ever been a fuel for him, burning and being consumed until I was left blackened and smouldering, like ash. Now I am depleted, abandoned. I wonder, when he left to Germany to sort out the financial mess he’d made, did he ever intend to return or was he such a coward he couldn’t tell me the truth. Deep down I know the answer, and this betrayal hurts the most. And yes, now to see him still burning bright, forever acting the part leaves me cold. And bitter.
But in the end, in spite of the horror, the misery and the betrayal, it is these very things that allow the pure joy and meaning of compassion, love and sacrifice to lodge firmly in my heart and keep me warm.
Esther
I think of Emilie often now that I am old. I feel empty when I reflect on the life I should have had, the peaceful, contented life that was stolen from us. But I find solace, when I think of Emilie’s love for me and everyone else she helped, and I do as she asked and find the joy in what I can, even amongst my darkest memories. I hope the money I send her brings some comfort if not joy, but I know nothing but my living, my joy and my knowing the truth can even begin to repay her kindness, bravery and sacrifice. I hope the love we all still hold for her brings some joy to her darkest days.
There is talk now of Mr Schindler and his list. There is a book, I cannot read it, and a movie I know has erased Emilie, as others attempted to erase us. They say he is a hero, a great man, and the sad irony of this wedges in my heart. But some things can never be erased, because I know behind the man is the woman, and I know she was the great human being.