A letter from Over There

The Lonely Tree

Sample Passage

Dear Mr. Josef Shulman, I write to you believing you to be the
son of Sonia (Kaplinsky) and Berl Shulman of Kolo. This letter is
from Fania Brodsky, born in Babiak –

– born in Babiak, August 25, 1875 to Isaac and Freda (Solchek)
Ginsburg and married to Henryk Brodsky, also of Babiak. Your
letter miraculously followed your parents here to the ghetto in
Bugaj, so maybe a second miracle will bring mine back to you.
A man here named Yaschke Hafetz (of Kowak) works outside of
the ghetto and one of his German guards says he knows a businessman
who travels to Switzerland and promises to take letters
and mail them. Of course, this Nazi saint wants much money, but
I can buy nothing better with my last worthless zlotys than the
hope that my message reaches you. It is a terrible letter, and I beg
your forgiveness for each word I must write, but I believe one of
the few comforts left to us is to know the truth. In October 1940,
your parents and your brother Daniel and his wife were driven
from their homes in Kolo to this ghetto in Bugaj. The same happened
to Henryk and me and every other Jew left in Babiak and to
those in many other towns. We were the lucky ones. Before this,
many hundreds of Jews were taken away and disappeared. No one
knows what happened to them. In the ghetto, me and my Henryk
shared a two-room flat with your parents. Your father of blessed
memory was beaten to death by an S.S. devil while on a work
detail. Yaschke was working next to him and saw this with his
own eyes. The reason for his murder was that he coughed. Dear
Berl suffered terribly with pneumonia. Yaschke said the first blow
was very hard, so your father’s death was quick. Your mother of
pure soul succumbed to typhus within weeks. I believe she left
this life with desire for nothing but to be reunited with your father.
After this, your brother Daniel told me that he and his wife
had decided to leave the ghetto. I don’t know how they planned
to do this. He said they were going to escape with six friends.
I heard rumors that a group of young Jews trying to escape were
all shot, but I know of no eyewitness to this. Your parents were
wonderful people and spoke proudly of you every day. It was their
one consolation, knowing that you and your family are safe in
Palestine. We were not blessed with children and I beg you to
preserve the memory of my beloved husband (the son of Otto and
Ida Brodsky). My dear Henryk suffered from a heart condition. In
this place there is no medicine and he died in the night. I could not
bury him, only ask the neighbors to take him down to the street
where I sat with him until the men with the pushcart came to
collect bodies. There are always bodies. They shoot people every
day. I don’t know why. In this place there is no why. They kill us
as you swat a fly. My prayer is to join my Henryk quickly. I believe
it was a mercy that your parents left this world when they
did. It becomes worse here every day. You will live and tell the
truth of this place. God bless you.

 

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